Free Throwing Heat: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel by Jennifer Seasons

ringing in her head.
    The man was up to no good.
    Suddenly on alert, like a predator had just walked into the room and she was its main course, Leslie crossed her arms over her chest and waited until the furious whispering in the room had dropped to a low enough level to allow her to speak. The whole class had stopped the minute he’d entered. He had that effect. And his face was so recognizable.
    Yes, ladies. It’s him. And yes, he’s every bit as wild as he looks. “What do you want, Kowalskin?” She let him hear the irritation in her voice.
    It occurred to her that she wasn’t entirely sure if it was him or her thoughts that she was annoyed with, but she shoved the idea aside fast. Of course it was him. It was always him.
    He slid a look at her from the corner of his eyes, his spiky black lashes and the mischievous glint in the blue depths making her knees weak. Energy and raw sexuality. That was Peter. And he was turning it loose on her.
    “Excuse me, ladies,” he said to the room after shooting her a cocky wink. “Is there room for one more?”
    Warning bells turned into flashing sirens. What? No, he wasn’t crashing her dance class, was he? Would he?
    Of course he would.
    The question was why ? While she watched, he put his sunglasses in his hat and tossed it on the floor by the wall. He was about the only man she knew who could get away with wearing a black fedora and look good. On him the hat was way sexier than it had any right to be.
    The room fell silent as all the women stared at Peter in awe. And she couldn’t blame them, really. The man looked hot in his clingy black button-up, leather bracelet, jeans, and finger-combed black hair. The lean, rugged face and piercing eyes only added to the total package.
    One of the young women behind her muttered under her breath, “Oh my God.”
    Jealously sunk its teeth into her again.
    Mine .
    What the—? The hell he was. Now the irritation she felt really was aimed at her. Kowalskin belonged to nobody, least of all her.
    She didn’t want him.
    “Go away, Peter.”
    The man just ignored her and sauntered over to the last remaining open pole. To the petite brunette next to him he flashed his wolfish smile and said, “How about you show me how this thing works?”
    She stuttered and blushed profusely. “Okay. Yeah.” Then she stopped and stared at him blankly. “Um, what?”
    Poor girl. “Leave her alone.”
    He wrapped an ankle loosely around the pole and gave a little shake, causing a collective murmur to rise above the music. Finally the instructor, Carlie, cleared her throat and said loudly, “Let’s continue shall we?” She disappeared into the stock room and started a new CD .
    An elbow in Leslie’s ribs sent pain and surprise darting through her. She whipped her head around and saw the redhead who’d been next to her leaning in to whisper, “That’s the pitcher for the Denver Rush, isn’t it?”
    Leslie nodded, still annoyed. “Yeah.”
    “How do you know him?”
    She didn’t want to explain because she had a feeling if the women learned of her connection to the Rush, her life of relative obscurity there would be over. And she wasn’t in the mood to be popular. “I manage a club he frequents.” There, hopefully that will shut her up.
    Peter caught her attention when he called out to her, “Hey, princess. Go on a date with me.”
    There went her obscurity. Terrific.
    She shook her head. “No.”
    He ground against the pole, rocking his hips suggestively, and she raised a brow. Even though he was totally joking, the man could move. His body rocked with an innate rhythm that had heat flaring low in her belly.
    “I’m not leaving until you say yes.” He spun around and used the pole at his back to shimmy against. It made her laugh.
    “No.” She had to raise her voice to be heard over Christina Aguilera. So this was his game. He was going to embarrass her into agreeing to go on a date with him. She found it odd that he’d want one with