Free The Hot Corner by Amy Noelle Page B

grounder to Brad, who eyed the guy on second before firing to first to get the out. The next batter struck out, and the game was over.
    As arranged before the game, I waited in my seat until a team official came to escort me down into the locker room. I’d been in locker rooms before, but I was never prepared for how loud they were. And no matter how plush, they always smelled like sweaty men. Not that I was averse to it.
    “Put on some clothes, we’ve got a lady here,” one of the players called out when I entered the room. He smiled as he exited in a hurry.
    I can’t say I minded the sight as I ventured farther into the room. Everybody had some clothes on, but not all their clothes. Several bare-chested players didn’t seem at all bothered by my presence. All righty then. I was mostly keeping it professional until Brad walked into the room wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. Dear God.
    I’d seen him naked countless times. We’d practically lived together for a year, for crying out loud, yet I was struck dumb at the sight of that tanned, muscular chest. Oh yeah, he’d bulked up in all the right ways. His arms were more defined, and his abs . . . I had no words for those. Was there such thing as a twenty-four pack?
    “Looks like you’re still my good luck charm,” he said when I reached him. I wasn’t quite capable of speaking, so I just nodded. “Did you enjoy the game?”
    I really wanted to touch him. I should have worn heels and pretended to trip again.
    “Paging Red.”
    “What?”
    He laughed. “Did you like the game?”
    “Oh, yeah.” I shook my head, trying to focus again. “I haven’t been to one in a long time.” Not since the last time I’d seen him play, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “You were great.”
    “Well, I pressed on the second at-bat, but other than that, it wasn’t a bad day.”
    I wasn’t sure whether to be sad or relieved when he put on a T-shirt, but I admit I watched the way his muscles rippled as he pulled it down over his torso. “Do you always focus on the negative?” I asked when his head emerged. His hair was all mussed and I itched to play with it.
    “No. I focus on what I need to do to get better. I’ll never be perfect, but I’d damn well like to get as close as I can.”
    That was good. I took out my pad and jotted it down.
    “So this is the girl you were giving your balls to!”
    I looked up at the smiling face of Lance Green, right fielder. He had short, spiky brown hair, twinkling brown eyes, and a smile that made me smile back.
    “Better watch out, every man gives them to me eventually.”
    Brad made some sort of strangled sound next to me, but Lance laughed. “I’d be happy to give you—”
    “Finish that sentence and I’ll end you,” Brad warned, and Lance laughed harder.
    “He’s possessive,” Lance said, shaking his head. “Wants to keep his writer all to himself. He’s just afraid I’ll tell you what a terrible wingman he is.”
    “Is that so? Sounds like fun! I’m Dani.” I sat on the bench and patted the seat next to me.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Dani. I’m Lance,” he said, sitting down.
    Brad slammed his locker shut. “I’m going to go talk to Tom for a few. Meet me here?”
    “Sure.” I shrugged and turned back to Lance. “How is he a terrible wingman?”
    He held his hand over his heart. “There we were, at the hotel bar in Philly after a game we choked away last October, and I see her. The girl of my dreams.” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, and I giggled.
    “Let me guess, was she a blonde?”
    “How did you know?” He raised his eyebrows.
    “Lucky guess. What happened?”
    “Well, I’m the shy type, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” I laughed again, and he sighed. “Why does nobody believe me about that? Anyway, before I could work up the nerve to talk to her, she and Brad are walking out of the bar together. I’ve never gotten over it.”
    “It doesn’t sound like he was