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

been all hot and heavy on her and then, boom ! Nothing. Zilch. Nada.
    Wet, limp noodle.
    And now the man wanted a date and a do-over. Why? What did it matter to him?
    More importantly, what did it matter to her?
    She adjusted the strap of the duffle bag slung over her shoulder as he said, “Leave your bag and I’ll drop you back here when we’re done. I’m taking you places.”
    Leslie spotted his bright blue Ducati parked next to her Mini Cooper and swallowed a grin. She’d been dying to get the chance to ride on his snazzy crotch rocket. Not that she’d ever let him know that. He’d just get an even bigger head and lord it over her at every opportunity. Like he needed more to be egotistical about anyway.
    Although she really wanted to leap on the back of his motorcycle and holler, “Freedom, baby!” with her hands in the air, she rolled her eyes and pretended reluctance. “Really, Peter? I don’t have a helmet and you’re wearing a hat.” She pinned him with a suspicious stare. “ Why are you wearing a hat, by the way? Did you not wear a helmet?”
    The guy was reckless but he wasn’t normally stupid.
    “I was a good boy. I just shoved it in the front of my jacket after I zipped it up.” He took his hat off and held it out to her. “But that wasn’t the most ingenious idea so why don’t you toss this in your pitiful excuse of a car and we’ll get going?”
    She took offense and snatched the fedora out of his hands. “My car is not a pitiful excuse. Mini Driver is fabulous and you know it.” Yes, she’d named her car after the actress. Come on. How could she not?
    He smirked. The gall of the man, making fun of her beloved automobile. Now she was back to feeling annoyed.
    “Call it whatever you want, but it isn’t a real car unless you can put the seats back and screw in it. Can you?” The look he shot her clearly said he doubted it.
    And honestly . . . “I don’t know.” It hadn’t been tested.
    Peter raised an eyebrow, giving her a Look with a capital L, pitching her stomach off-center. It wasn’t fair.
    “We’re wasting valuable time, girl. Toss it in and let’s ride.”
    Caving because she was curious, Leslie dumped her stuff and grabbed a jacket that had fallen onto the floor. It was a black, fitted jacket that Mark had bought for her to celebrate her first winter snowstorm. The material was lightweight, but high-tech and super warm. Tossing it on, she zipped it up to her chin and shoved a pair of gloves in her pockets just in case. Leslie turned around and found Peter already on the Ducati unstrapping a helmet for her from the bike’s seat.
    “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asked as she took the glossy black helmet from him and put it on.
    He grinned and flipped the visor down on his own helmet. “You’ll find out soon enough. Hop on.”
    She did just that, and when she was on the back of his shiny sports bike, he fired it up. The way the motorcycle was designed she had to raise her legs up high to reach the foot pedals. Her knees cradled his hard body, and when he grabbed one of her hands and pulled her forward, putting it around his waist, Leslie found herself effectively wrapped all around him.
    Peter revved the engine and the sleek machine vibrated beneath her with barely leashed power, making her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Nice.
    Leslie smiled. Whatever he had up his sleeves was going to be all kinds of fun.
    “Punch it, Kowalskin,” she demanded, suddenly very eager to get on with the spontaneous adventure.
    The pitcher revved the engine again and yelled over the noise, “Hold on tight!”
    With that he kicked the Ducati in gear and leapt into the road. Her ass greeted air and she scrambled forward, wrapping her arms tight around Peter like he was her lifeline. His laughter trailed behind him and he shifted gears again, making the motorcycle leap like a stallion, no doubt just to make her squeal.
    It totally worked.
    She screamed like a