Free High Heat (Hard Hitters #1) by Linda Morris

none of your business!”
    “Oh, come on. You know all about my love life. Why can’t I ask about yours?”
    “The entire western hemisphere knows about your love life, because it’s on TMZ!”
    “Exactly. I’m the last person in the world to judge. Come on. Tell me all about it. That schlub must have something going for him if you’re willing to give him the time of day. Is he some kind of a nasty freak in bed? Let me guess. He can go all night. Or he has a red room of pain like that guy in that one book.”
    Her cheeks burned. How did he steer her to the most inappropriate topics with ease? She wasn’t used to that kind of frank talk about sexuality. In a small town like Plainview, she couldn’t talk to anyone about intimate matters without fear of it getting back to her overprotective dad and brother. She’d grown up playing on a mostly boys’ baseball team and worked in such a man’s world that she’d never had a lot of girlfriends anyway.
    Tom was right about one thing. Nothing in her very tame love life could ever shock him. The idea of unburdening herself had a lot of appeal, and, oddly, she trusted him not to tell anyone.
    “I wouldn’t know,” she admitted. “We don’t sleep together.”
    He stopped dead, nearly knocking her silly as his elbow dragged free of her shoulder. “Are you kidding?”
    Hmmm, maybe he was shockable after all. “I told you, he’s not really my boyfriend. We do stuff together.” At his doubtful expression, she shrugged. “Plainview is a small town, as you might have noticed. There aren’t a lot of single guys my age to choose from. You know what my hours are like. I can pull twenty-hour shifts when we have a home game.”
    “I work long hours too, yet I find a way to have a social life.”
    She snorted. “Oh, that’s what you call it?”
    He ignored her. “Do you kiss him?”
    She tilted her head in puzzlement. “Well, sure.”
    “But you haven’t slept together.”
    “No, like I told you, he’s not my boyfriend.”
    “News flash, but you don’t have to be in a committed relationship to have sex.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to for a minute.”
    He laughed and resumed his long, easy stride next to her, a stride that he had to slow to keep from leaving her far behind. “Sorry. I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost.”
    She stopped, offended. “What’s that supposed to mean? Sorry for him why?”
    “Because you won’t give him any.”
    “Who said
I
won’t give him any? Maybe he hasn’t asked,” she practically bellowed, and then lowered her voice when nearby heads swiveled. Fantastic. All she needed was for that little tidbit to get back to her father.
    “I got a look at that guy, and I’ve gotten a lot of looks at you.” His eyes ran down her, and her skin heated faster than a microwave oven. “You expect me to believe it’s
his
idea that you not have sex? No way.”
    She couldn’t deny the plain truth, so she settled into a silence and resumed walking. How did he get her talking about the most embarrassing stuff every time? It was a gift, she supposed, like his 100-plus miles per hour fastball or those blue eyes that seemed to look right through her.
    At the Little League diamond, a crowd had already gathered in the stands, offering a welcome distraction. A group of kids stood around home plate, clutching their gloves and squirming with excitement. Thrashers PR staff had set up a portable mike and amp system, as well as a large net, like a soccer goal, on the first base line.
    “Are we ready to go?”
    Her assistant, Tracy, nodded, looking even younger than her twenty-two years with her ponytail and her blue Thrashers polo shirt. “All set.” Her eyes widened and dropped when Tom smiled at her. Poor kid. High school wasn’t
that
long ago, and Sarah remembered when she’d been totally bowled over by him too.
    Luckily, she was long past that.
    “Um, where’s Rich?” Tracy asked. “Don’t you guys always