Hot Target

Noah acted unaffected, sipped from the mug and continued to talk. “At least Libby doesn’t seem to be writing the letters or even secretly mutilating animals. So far she’s stuck with terrorizing barbecues and—after following her yesterday, from what I can tell—shoe stores. She spent three hours in one yesterday. I was in hell and so were the salespeople.”

Katie held up her hands in protest. “Please. Keep the booty-call talk to yourself. And you know how I feel about Libby. Keep watching her. She’s our person. I feel it in my gut.”

“All I feel in my gut,” Josh said, forking a pancake, “is the need for more food.” He dropped the pancake onto his plate. “That and I have a bad feeling about Jessica that no one else seems to get.”

Noah finished his coffee. “She’s too young and too naive to be conniving enough to pull off all these letters and not make a mistake that gets her caught.”

Katie chimed in her agreement with Noah. “I’m sticking with Libby.” She eyed Rick. “Good thing you’re not.”

“Man, Katie,” Rick said. “Ever since I made you mad at the benefit, you’ve been on my ass.”

Katie studied him seriously as she accepted a cup of coffee from Luke. “And that covers the entire time I’ve known you. You ballplayers are all about superstitions. If I start being nice now, it might be unlucky. I better keep busting your chops every chance I get.”

***

LUKE CHUCKLED at the exchange. Having Katie here felt…well, right. Like she belonged. Like she’d been here a lot longer than she had. He set his cup on the counter and pulled her close. “Speaking of superstitions,” he said. “You do realize if I pitch well tonight, the game-day breakfast becomes a lucky tradition, to be repeated?”

Katie rolled her eyes. “I swear you ballplayers are all a little obsessive-compulsive.”

“Let them be OCD or whatever they need to be to win,” Josh said. The doorbell rang. Josh pushed his chair back and looked disgusted. “Ah, no. Someone else heard about breakfast and thinks they are getting pancakes. Forget it. There aren’t enough to go around.”

Noah pushed to his feet, cup in hand. “I’ll get the door. I need a refill anyway.”

Luke rubbed his hands together as he finished the last of the cooking. “Finally,” he said. “I think we’re ready to sit down and eat.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Katie said. “I’m starving.”

Noah reappeared with Ron by his side. “You might want to wait on that food.”

“Another letter,” Ron said, holding up a plastic, sealed bag.

“I’ll get it to the lab,” Noah offered. “And hope for more than the generalizations they gave me last week. Maybe we’ll get a fingerprint this time.”

Luke leaned against the counter, the air knocked right out of him. He glanced around the kitchen. “So much for a good-luck tradition. You know what? You guys do your thing. Eat. Investigate. Whatever. I can’t think about this on game day.” Which would be easier without a couple of tech guys sharing breakfast with him, reminding him he was under lock and key. “I’m going to take a shower.” No one objected or tried to stop him, and he was damn glad.

He disappeared into his room, shut the door and headed to the shower. Stripping off his swim trunks and T-shirt, he stepped under the hot water. Damn it. “Why today?” he whispered.

“Because today is game day.” It was Katie’s voice, soft and close, right outside the curtain. It moved and suddenly she was inside, naked, beautiful, the distraction he needed. “Don’t you see?” she asked, stepping right up to him and twining her arms around him. “Whoever sent that letter knew you were pitching today. They knew it couldn’t be ignored. Not if your safety was going to be considered. This person wanted to be sure you got it today. They wanted to rattle you. So don’t give them that satisfaction. Go pitch your best game ever.” She kissed his chest, then kissed his lips. “And I was thinking of a new game-day tradition.”

She was soft and perfect in his arms, and he was hard and hot for her. He was crazy about her. Hell. He was pretty sure he was in love with her. “What new tradition?”

She smiled, her palm caressing his chest as she slowly slid down his body and went to her knees. His breath hitched as her hand closed around his erection. His muscles corded, tensed, as her tongue flickered around the head of his cock, her gentle fingers caressing his balls and closing around them. Suddenly, there were no letters, there was no pressure to deal with, aside from that pulsing through his balls.

She drew him into her mouth, suckled the sensitive head of his erection, her tongue swirling, licking, teasing. “Katie,” he whispered, his hand trying to guide her to take all of him.