Page 9 of Double Play

She leaned forward, so they were chin to chin. “That computer program took two years of my life. And required mammoth amounts of data input and parameter tweaking. I’ve read a hundred and five baseball books, including most of the Baseball Almanac. I’ve seen every baseball movie ever made—or at least every baseball movie available onNetflix.”

“And all that proves what? You’re the ultimate armchairbaseballfan.”

She popped a salted almond into her mouth. “I bet I love the game more thanyoudo.”

“Saywhat?” He sat back, his collar coming open enough so she saw the hard definition of his neck. What was she doing, arguing with a centerfielder about baseball? But she’d gotten herself into this and wasn’t about tostopnow.

“You don’t love it, Dwight Conner. It’s a springboard for you. A stepping stone. You said it yourself. You picked the sport that would be least damaging toyourbody.”

His body. Now why had she mentioned his body? Awareness of his chiseled, powerful form now filled her consciousness—along with the shocked expression onhisface.

“Me, Ilovebaseball. I watched so many games when I was stuck inside. I’d listen to the announcers on the radio, and I felt as if I was there on the field with them. I researched all the players, I knew everything about them. I even wrote fan letters. Then, when I was in graduate school looking for a thesis topic in statistics, everyone wanted me to choose something serious, like reproductive health or climate change. I chose baseball. Because the idea of thinking about baseball all day long made mehappy.”

She folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin at him. “So, you tell me—who loves the game more, meoryou?”

4

Dwight’s jawwas literally hanging open as he absorbed Maggie’s speech. Apparently, he’d hit a sore spot. He hadn’t intended to; he just wanted to know more about her. He definitely knew more now. He knew that when she got riled up about a topic, her entire face lit up like fireworks. He knew that she had a real passion for baseball. He knew that she turned him on. That she was sexyashell.

And that she wasright.

“You win.” He threw up his hands in surrender. “You win theprize.”

“The prize?” She blinked, as if surprised to find herself so carried away. “There’s aprize?”

“Yup. Have you ever been to LosFelizPark?”

She shook her head. He wondered if she’d been anywhere other than her office since she’d gotten to Kilby. “The park has a batting cage and we’re going to hit some balls.You’regoingto.”

The head-shaking continued, along with some eye-rolling. “Oh no. I can’t hit balls. I told you, I have a heart condition and I don’t do strenuousexercise.”

“Hitting a ball isn’t all that strenuous. You won’t have to run the bases because you probably won’t even get a hit.” He winkedather.

“I could definitely get a hit. I’m great atPing-Pong.”

“There’s only one way to find out. Don’t you think if you’re going to work in baseball, you should at least try tohitabaseball?”

“Honestly, I don’t see the relevance, but I have no doubt that Icouldif I wanted to.” A competitive gleam blazed in her eyes—just what he wanted to see. It got under his skin that she was making decisions about people’s dreams and futures when she’d barely even seen alivegame.

“Do you want to call your doctor to check if it’s okay? I can wait.” He sat back and folded his arms across hischest.

“What—youmeannow?”

“Sure, now. You don’t drink, so what are we doing in a wine bar? Let’s get some fresh air and hit a couple of baseballs. Smell the grass. Get a littledirty.”

She stared at him but made no move toward her phone. He noticed that her eyes were an unusually light shade of hazel brown, almost gold against her dark eyelashes. He couldn’t make out her ethnicity, though he figured she was mostly white, with maybe something extra somewhere in her background. He’d been with women of various races, but he didn’t know how she felt about suchthings.

Not that it mattered, since he wasn’t talking about sleeping with her. He wanted to spend more time with her, that was all. She intrigued him, with her intelligence and sly sense ofhumor.

“After all the times you watched ballplayers on TV doing their thing, don’t you want to see what it feels like to hit a baseball with a bat? Or throw a baseball? This is your chance. I’ll teach you everything I know about hitting thedeuce.”

She broke into a smile. “So you can throw acurve?”

“Didn’t I just do exactly that—metaphorically?” There, take that, Ms.Vocabulary.

“Yes, I guess you did. Okay, I’ll go to the batting cage with you. After all, you could probably use some practice, judging by yourlastgame.”

After a quick double-take, he realized she was tweaking him. “You sure know how to boost a player’s ego, girl. Man, remind me not to get on yourbadside.”

---