Thrown by a Curve
Page 24

But she liked what she saw. And she wanted to see more.
After weights, she’d run him through his therapeutic exercises, pushing him harder than she had previously. He’d taken it without complaint. Then they’d each had a sandwich, sharing the kitchen space—not in an unfriendly way, but not in a particularly friendly way, either.
So after lunch, she said, “Let’s go pitch.”
The only reply she got to that was a shrug, followed by him walking away to get ready.
Distance was good, right? This was what she’d asked for.
On the drive over to the ballpark, he was silent. Okay, so some guys didn’t appreciate being dumped. Not that she was exactly dumping him since they were still going to see each other every day.
That was the problem with working together and sleeping together. It never worked out. Not that she’d ever slept with a colleague or, God forbid, a patient before. She’d always kept her work life separate from her personal life, vowing to never mix the two. She’d always figured that was one complication she didn’t need.
She should have stood by that vow. Garrett had to trust her. They had to be partners in his recovery. How was that going to happen with this added tension between them?
She pushed that quandary aside and got him up on the pitcher’s mound, repeating what he thought were the same warm-up underhanded pitches from yesterday, following up with some soft overhand pitches.
She could tell he was bored and frustrated, and she needed to challenge him. His recovery was going well, and she wanted to know now before they got any further what his pitching mechanics were going to be like.
She held the ball in her hands. “Now, get into your windup, but don’t throw hard. Just loft one over, but throw a little harder than what we’ve been doing. And I don’t mean serious heat. Just a little faster.”
He stared at her. “I think I got it, Alicia. I don’t need you to draw me a road map.”
Oh, yeah. He was irritated. She got into the normal catcher’s stance, squatting down and prepping to receive a pitch.
“Would you like me to give you a signal?”
“Funny.” He paused, wound up, then threw her a hard ball that smacked into her glove. It stung, but she’d taken pitches from the pros in rehab before. She knew it was going to hurt.
She stood. “How did that feel?”
“Fine.” He waved at her with his glove. “Get back down there and let me throw some of my other pitches.”
“Okay. Again, no serious velocity on these.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He burned the next five pitches into her mitt, and didn’t once pull up or wince like he was having any pain.
She caught the last ball and stood, pulling the ball out of her glove. “Your form looks good. How did those feel?”
He stepped off the mound. “Like I could pitch at least six good innings.”
She smiled and met him halfway. “Good. Let’s throw a few more, but still not too hard.”
He nodded, took the ball from her, and stepped back on the mound. They went at it for about forty-five minutes, and he did what she asked, using correct pitching form but not throwing too hard. Alicia kept watch to be sure he wasn’t favoring his right arm or giving off any signals that he was having pain. When he threw what she thought was enough pitches, she stopped him.
“That’s enough for now.”
Again, he didn’t complain, just tossed her the ball and left the mound, content to grab a bottle of water and cool down.
“How’s the arm?” she asked as they climbed into the car.
“It’s good. A little sore, but I’d expect that after not pitching for so long.”
“We’ll ice it down when we get back to the house. Then I’ll massage you.”
“Okay.”
He was being uncharacteristically cooperative. And businesslike. Which was exactly how she liked her patients to be. But not how her relationship with Garrett had been since they’d met. Now there was no banter, no easy conversation. She’d effectively shut that all down with her dismissal of them and the relationship they’d begun.
Admittedly, she missed it, but this was how it was supposed to be, how it must be. He was obviously coming to grips with the fact that they weren’t going to have a personal relationship. If that made her feel sad and empty—tough. It was exactly what she wanted, so she might as well get used to it.
She laid her gym bag on the floor when they got back to the house, then turned to him. “Ready for some ice?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Come on. Let’s go into the workout room.”
He followed her into the room. She was conscious of him behind her, watching her as they headed down the hall. She wanted to turn to him or wait for him so they’d walk side by side, but she didn’t. Instead, she kept walking until they were inside the room. He walked right past her and to the cushioned bed where he stretched out and waited for her.
Ignoring the pang in her stomach, she retrieved the ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a towel, and brought it to him.
“Ten minutes,” she said.
He grabbed his music player and slipped in his earphones. “Got it.”
He’d tuned her out, deepening that ache in her stomach. She walked out of the room and hunted down her notebook. She set a timer and began to chart today’s notes in Garrett’s file.
The ten minutes passed much too quickly. But when she went into the workout room, she found only the ice pack lying there. Garrett was nowhere to be found. She loaded the ice pack back into the freezer and left the room.
Thinking Garrett had gone into his room, she walked out into the hall, but his door was open. She peeked her head in. He wasn’t there.
“Garrett?”
He didn’t answer, and she didn’t hear the shower running, so she went out back and found him standing at the edge of the sand staring out over the ocean. She walked outside and stood at the edge of the deck, watching him.
What a picture he presented in his bare feet, shirtless, the sun beating down on him while the wind blew his hair. She wondered what he was thinking as he stood there examining the waves. It had been a rough day, both physically and emotionally. Was he thinking about that, irritated with her, or just pondering the future of his career? Was he thinking about her?
She’d definitely thought a lot about him today, about more than just his shoulder.
She’d had his body last night, had felt every rock-hard ridge and plane. He’d been inside her. He’d tasted her and had made her come—more than once. They’d just begun mapping each other’s bodies, and no matter how much she talked the talk about professionalism and how they should stay away from each other, the bottom line was, she felt cheated. There was so much more she wanted to know, to find out about Garrett, his wants and needs, what turned him on and what got him off.
She gripped the edge of the railing, desire igniting inside her like a flash fire. She blazed hot for Garrett. No man stirred her as quickly as he did. Just one look, one thought, and she was consumed. All rational thought fled, and every wall she’d so carefully constructed throughout the day crumbled around her.
He was right. What difference did it make if they had sex? She knew her job, knew what it would take to get him ready to pitch. She could do her work efficiently and the two of them could still have a smoking-hot sexual relationship.
She’d be insane to walk away from something like this. She knew he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. He had his career to resume once his rehab was over with. That would consume all his time. And she sure as hell wasn’t looking for a committed relationship. She was building a career that had been her primary focus for years.
So they both worked for the same team. It wasn’t like she was going to be engaged with him on a one-on-one basis after he finished his rehab and the season started. Unless he was injured, they wouldn’t have much contact at all. She could protect her job, and no one would ever know about the two of them.
She was an adult. So was he. They could manage their sexual relationship. She could manage it.
She kicked off her shoes and stepped off the porch.
 
 
EIGHTEEN
A STORM WAS COMING. GARRETT HAD BEEN WATCHING the clouds gather, darkening the sky and shifting the atmosphere from bright and sunny to ominous and gray.
He knew the feeling. His own mood had darkened throughout the course of the day. But that was on him. Not on Alicia. He knew she was out on the deck watching him. He didn’t turn around, didn’t go to her, figured if she had something to say she’d come talk to him.
He’d kept things professional between them today. That’s what she asked for, and he knew her job was important to her, so he did his best.
It was hard. Hell, she made him hard. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he wanted more of her, and a lot more of what they’d had last night. But if she didn’t want that he’d have to respect it.
The problem was, he knew she was torn, and it would be easy to get her to change her mind. He could be persuasive if he put his mind—and his charm—into it. But that would make him an asshole, and he’d like to think he wasn’t one. So he backed off and kept things between them business only. If he had to go through this therapy thing with a throbbing hard-on, that was his problem. Eventually, he’d get over it.
Besides, he had bigger problems to deal with than whether or not he’d ever get Alicia in the sack again. Like getting himself on the pitcher’s mound. It was time he started concentrating on that.
So when he caught sight of Alicia stepping off the porch and coming toward him, he figured she was going to drag him inside and perform some kind of stretching torture on his arm. He turned to face her, waited for her to say something.
She didn’t. A strong gust blew in from the ocean, slapping strands of her hair across her face. She didn’t bother to push them away. Her gaze was fixed on his, and he read the intent in her eyes. He recognized that heat, because it had been boiling inside him all day long. Her desire crashed into him with a force stronger than the wind.
He didn’t understand the sudden turnaround. He could question her, especially since she’d been the one to put up the wall between them. Now she was tearing it down?
But he realized he really didn’t give a shit why she’d changed her mind. He only needed to know one thing.
“You sure about this?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t hesitate, and he wasn’t going to ask again. He swept his hands over her cheeks and pushed her hair away, then slanted his lips over hers, needing his mouth on hers. There was no figuring this out—whatever it was between them that drove him crazy, and probably her, too.
He only knew he wanted her with a primal force as strong as the wind slamming them into each other. He drew his arm around her waist to hold them both steady. And when the first raindrop smacked him on the cheek, he broke the kiss, grabbed her hand, and they ran like hell toward the house as the skies opened, drenching them in the short distance to the deck.
Alicia lifted her gaze to his. Her hair was plastered to her head, her tank top was molded to her chest, and droplets of water slid down her body. He’d never had desire gut punch him like it did right now.
Lightning arced across the sky as thunder clapped around them, shaking the foundation of the house. The skies had grown so dark it was like night. The rain came down so hard he couldn’t even see the water anymore. The force of the storm mixed with his hunger for her, and he pushed her against the wall of the house and fixed his lips to hers.
She met his kiss with equal force. Maybe it was the weather, the storm bringing out primal desires. And maybe he just wanted her that much. He lifted her shirt and swept his hand across her stomach, felt the ripples in her muscles as he wound his arm around her so he could draw her closer to his body. She moaned against his mouth, tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth.
He growled in response, his need for her fierce as he pulled her wet shirt off and undid the clasp of her bra. There was no one outside, no neighbors within viewing distance. Even if there were, no one could see anything in this driving rain anyway. Alicia didn’t seem to care as she helped him peel the rest of her clothes off, then his.
Fed by the storm, the two of them stood outside, leaning against the porch, their wet bodies steaming as the rainstorm cooled the air around them. He didn’t care, but she had goose bumps. He wrapped his arm around her and used his body to shield her from the wind, his lips and hands to give her heat. He grasped her breast in his hand, using his thumb to graze a nipple already hardened from the wet and cold.
She shuddered and wrapped her tongue around his, sucked it into her mouth, and nearly brought him to his knees. He groaned and pulled his lips from hers, gazing down at her face. Her lips were trembling.
“I need to be inside you,” he said.
She lifted her gaze to his. “Yes. Now.”
If it wasn’t for the lack of a condom, he’d have driven inside her right there—on the deck in the pouring rain. But he took her hand and pulled her inside the house, both of them dripping wet as they dashed toward the bedroom. He turned on the shower, waited until the water was steamy hot, and pulled Alicia inside, shoving her under the spray.
“Get warm,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He grabbed a condom and set it on the shelf, then met her in the shower. Her eyes were closed, the water pouring over her head. She opened her eyes and smoothed her hair back, then reached for him.
He stepped into her arms, his body chilled to the bone. But her br**sts against his chest and her mouth on his heated him up fast. She met his lips in an eager kiss that made him shudder, and it wasn’t from the cold. He smoothed his hand down her back, remembering what it felt like to hold her body against his last night.