Page 24 of Passed Ball

Vivienne

This is not my first gala. It is, however, the first time I'm arriving on the arm of a player, and I'm trying not to think too hard about the fact that I've dropped my professional wall enough tonight to allow it.

For one night, the glitz and glamor of Hollywood is set against the majestic backdrop of the Rocky mountains.

Xavier eases up to the curb, putting the car in park, and when I reach for my door handle he tsks. "Don't move."

"That's not really--"

"I'm working my way up to a ten and you're not about to ruin it by refusing to let me open your door like a gentleman."

Before I can answer, he's out of the car and rounding it, and I use the seconds alone to pull myself together.

Confidence looks good on Xavier. Seeing him playful and demanding does something to me I didn't expect. The cocky catcher who's always grated on my nerves is stirring something else entirely tonight.

It's too bad Xavier's not the kind of guy I can hook up with and forget. Our lives are too tangled. And like I keep telling Tenley, I'm not interested in dating. Dating leads to serious relationships, the kind that take over your life, and I need more time to live life on my terms.

In a perfect world, I'd find the consistency of someone who cares about my experience, without the obligation of more. I've had enough of frustrating one-night stands. Still, I can't help but think that ifmorewere on the table, Xavier doesn't strike me as a man who leaves the job unfinished.

He opens the door and holds out his hand to help me out of the car. Warmth floods me, turning my insides to mush. I can almost feel his hand gripping my hip, guiding me down the red carpet. The rough scrape of his calluses against my skin, the firm, claiming hold . . . it's too easy to imagine.

"Are you just gonna stare at it?" His low chuckle pulls me from my spiral. I glance down at his hand, then back up at him. He raises an eyebrow, silently teasing.It's only a hand.

I learned long ago how to take care of myself, but the slide of Xavier's rough palm against mine as he helps me out of the car is a startling reminder of how long it's been since someoneelsemade me feel anything.

He hands his keys to the waiting valet. And then it's not just my hand in his, it's his fingertips searing me through the fabric of my dress where they rest lightly at the small of my back. Then he's guiding me away from the car. If Tenley had talked me into wearing the backless dress she loved so much, I'd be in all kinds of trouble.

It's not until he pauses in the middle of the red carpet that I realize the photographers are about to take our picture together, looking very cozy.

"Oh, um, I'll just--" I gesture toward the door. "I can head inside."

His face falls, and the sight makes my chest pinch. I rush to add, "You don't really want your picture taken with me. You're just being nice to make it up to me."

"Don't tell me what I want." His voice is firm but gentle as he nudges me closer. "I'd be an idiot not to want you at my side. You're the star of the show, and you shine like it tonight. Stunning and bright."

And just like that, I relent. Letting him pull me against his side, I look up at him and I can't stop the way my lips curve as the cameras' flashes ignite around us.

"That wasn't so bad, was it? I didn't even break anyone's camera."

"An impressive feat for an eight and a quarter."

He holds the door for me and I catch him doing a fist pump in the lobby mirror.

The ballroom is already humming with conversation and laughter when we walk in. It doesn't take long to spot our table. Dean, Mia, Dom, Indie, Hendrix, Poppy, Cruz, and Lilah are gathered there--the women seated together on one side, laughing loudly, while their partners linger on the opposite side with drinks in hand.

Dean specifically asked me to sit here to highlight Double Play's growing partnership with the team. But even knowing that, I still feel out of place. My relationship with the guys is strictly professional. And, aside from Indie, I've barely spent any time with their partners.

Xavier leans in close, pulling out my chair. His breath caresses my ear when he asks, "Can I grab you a drink?"

I open my mouth to tell him he doesn't have to do that, but he

cuts me off.

"I'll just grab you a glass of champagne. I can tell by the way you stiffened you were about to give me the brush off again." We're so close as he pushes in my chair that I doubt anyone can hear us over the music, especially when his next words are so low they're almost a whisper. "You should probably know I don't do anything I don't want to. If I'm offering you something, I mean it."

His raspy, confident voice sends a jolt through me, and I can't help but imagine what other ways I'd submit to him if he used that tone differently.

"Champagne sounds perfect." I force myself to look unaffected by the hot current that runs up my spine.

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