Long Relief (Hardball 1)

“Maggie?”

“Thorgerson,” she whispered, rolling her eyes.

The park manager’s footsteps got closer, echoing off the concrete and the cinderblock walls. His shadow obscured the light, and Maggie’s breath caught in her throat. How would it look, if she were found down here, in the middle of a party in her honor, with one of the players? It would look like fines. It would look like an ethics investigation. It would look like her family freaking out at how she’d besmirched their name. It would look like…

Chris’s hand slid around her waist, and she gasped, startled. That was when the fear really hit her. Even if her career would survive such humiliation, her family would never forgive her. She would never forgive herself for making a mockery of her father’s team.

Completely unaware of her inner turmoil, Chris bent his head to her neck. While she knew it would be totally smart of her to push him away, she couldn’t help herself. She leaned back and bit her lip against the moan that threatened to escape when his mouth closed over her earlobe.

In the hall, an obnoxious pre-programmed ringtone sounded. Thorgerson stopped, right in front of the door, and made a noise of disgust. “Damn hallways...can never get a good signal…”

“Oh. No.”

Chris shushed her just as the door opened. He slowly guided her through the darkness, ducking behind the equipment locker just as the lights came back on.

This cannot be happening. Maggie wanted to melt into the floor. What if she really did cause some kind of stupid scandal? What would Tommy say? What would mom say? She stiffened as Thorgerson paced close to the netting, and Chris tapped her should. Thorgerson stood with his back to the door, ranting to whoever was on the other end of the line about what he’d agreed to pay the catering company. Maggie and Chris slowly crept to the exit and Chris eased the door handle down so they could slip out unnoticed. He didn’t close it all the way, so it wouldn’t make a noise. Then he turned and took Maggie’s hand. He held her hand. The roughness of his fingers under hers jolted her stomach. He pulled her to the nearest exit and they slipped onto the street.

“Oh. My god.” She pressed a hand to her throat, half laughing, half choking on the cold night air. “I’m shaking, look.”

And she was, with fear and excitement, she had to admit, wild levels of arousal. Chris laughed and pulled her close, his head descending for a kiss before she put her hand to his chest. “This isn’t exactly the place.”

“You’re right.” He let go of her and ran a hand over his short, dirty-blond hair. “Why blow such a close call?”

“Exactly.” She stood there, looking back at him as his hopeful blue eyes betrayed the confidence of his smirk, and made her decision before she could chicken out. “So, we’d better get a cab.”

He took her hand again and pulled her down the sidewalk, to the row of cabs idling at the curb, waiting for fares to emerge from the sports bar across the street. He held the door for her and slid in beside her, his leg brushing hers. The silky fabric of his suit pants raised goosebumps on her leg.

“Where we going?” the driver asked, looking from Chris to Maggie and back in the review mirror.

“Uh...” Chris shrugged and glanced over at her. “My place, I guess?”

“That’s fine.” It was so embarrassing, having the “your place or mine?” conversation in front of a stranger. Not that it happened often, due both to her private cars and lack of sex life. She didn’t listen to the address Chris gave—she made a snap decision that this was a one-time occurrence. There would be no, “I was just in the neighborhood,” cell calls from outside his house at eleven on a Friday. One night, then she would have her stupid crush out of her stupid system.

The car pulled away from the curb, and Chris’s hand fell on Maggie’s bare knee, his fingertips swirling over her skin. She leaned back against the seat, still pleasantly buzzing from the endorphins of an averted disaster, and silently contemplated what she would do if he moved his hand higher. She’d never thought she was one of those Taxicab Confessions people who would get it on in front of God and everyone in the backseat, but she’d also never thought she would let her libido win over her common sense when it came to business, either. Going home with Chris was a stupid, reckless choice.

The ride seemed to take forever, with Chris’s fingertips skimming slowly over her knee, sending red-hot awareness through her veins. She practically bolted from the car when they pulled to a stop, and Chris seemed just as eager to get inside, slapping a wad of bills into the driver’s hand before he ever heard how much the ride had cost. Opening the sleek glass doors with a key card, he ushered her through the empty lobby and into an elevator. No sooner were the doors closed than his mouth was on her neck and his hands were all over her, her dress separating her skin from his palms in a way that made her loathe clothing. She swayed on her feet, falling against the wall, and he stepped closer, planting a foot between her expensive, uncomfortable shoes.