Chapter Three
Ellie
“He wasn’t supposed to say yes!” I complained to my sister for the thousandth time. “So no, I didn’t bring a dress.”
“Wear this.” She grabbed a gown and pushed it at me. We were at her apartment in the city, in a swanky loft that was too hot in the summer but allowed my sister to have racks of clothes all along the brick wall. She held up the miles of fabric and all I saw were dark red sequins and a plunging neckline.
“I can’t wear that.”
“So let’s go shopping.”
“I can’t afford that.”
My sister huffed out a breath. “They’re on the seventh-inning stretch.” She gestured at the radio, which was giving a swing-by-swing commentary. Although right now, it was playing an advertisement for truck covers. “You’ve got to wear something nice. He’s coming in a limo.”
“He’s what?” I gasped, and then Rachel flushed bright pink.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” Then she shrugged. “You told him you wanted an old-fashioned date, right? For him to pick you up at the house, then take you out to a fancy dinner.”
“I didn’t say anything about a limo,” I cried. I’d never been in a limo in my life. Not even for prom.
“Well, maybe he won’t. I mean, just because I overheard Connor telling him he better pull out all the stops for you…”
“Oh my God.” I already had two older brothers. I did not need an older, overprotective cousin, too.
“Which brings us back to the question of what you’re going to wear.” She tried to shove the sequined sheath at me again and I batted it away.
“Why do you have a ball gown, anyway?”
“Because I’m a radio personality. I never know where I’m going to be sent. I’ve been to balls, political parties, fundraisers—all kinds of stuff.” Then she winked. “Besides, I got it cheap from a cross-dresser I know who’s decided to hang up his sparkles and settle down. He’s getting married and there’s a baby on the way.”
I blinked. “You know the most interesting people.” The only ones I knew were sick, struggling with diabetes or heart disease or some other potentially devastating illness. Sure they had interesting lives, but none that involved sparkly gowns. At least, not when I saw them.
“And now you’re going to get to know Jake Armstrong.” She spun me around and tugged at my T-shirt. “Strip. You don’t have much time.”
“I’m not wearing that.” I started to flip through the dresses on the nearest rack. There was no organization, of course. Dresses hung next to sweatpants, next to assorted belts and scarves. I held up a pink paisley cravat and arched my brow. “Do I want to ask?”
“Halloween. I went as a dominatrix. Pink tie in one hand, bullwhip in the other.”
I tried to picture it. Thing is, I could. Rachel loved to dress up in all sorts of wild clothing. Me, I just wanted leggings and an oversize tee. When I wasn’t wearing scrubs, that is.
I dropped the tie and searched for anything of hers I could wear. I finally came up with a simple black sheath. That would work, right? It was formal, could be classed up with my simple gold hoop earrings, and the neckline barely plunged at all.
It was perfect.
“Aw, come on,” Rachel whined. “You’re going out with the hottest baseball player in the major leagues. He’s bringing a limo. Live it up, will you? How about this?” She held up a short, flirty dress made of gold lamé.
I rolled my eyes and headed for the shower with her black dress.
She responded by grabbing a pair of three-inch gold stilettos. “You can’t wear sneakers with that dress, sissy,” she taunted. “Thank God we’re nearly the same size.”
Same size, yes. But we had completely different proportions. Rachel was two inches taller and statuesque. I was two inches bustier and had hips that could make a fortune in the roller derby. Especially since I spent my spare time trying out recipes I’d seen on TV. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and so I showered and dressed as fast as I could, only to mourn the view in the mirror.
“I’ve gotten fatter,” I said. I glanced at my sister. “I’ve been trying out dessert challenges from this website I like.”
My sister blew out a whistle. “You’ve gotten curvier and you look hot. Now tell me all about these desserts while I do your makeup.”
“Not a chance in hell.” She’d have me looking like a runway model for…whatever über-dramatic fashion designer was in vogue right now. Was it sad that I couldn’t even think of one? “What other dresses have you got?”
“None. You’re wearing that. Now let’s talk accessories.”
An hour later, we were fighting traffic to get back to my parents’ house where Mom and Dad were trying not to be obvious with their cameras. I felt like I was going to the prom again, and damn if it wasn’t a little bit exciting. And exasperating. I mean, I was a grown woman, right? Why would I be sitting in my parents’ living room wondering if I remembered how to walk in stilettos? And yet here I was, and my heart was thumping triple time in my throat. I settled myself by mentally listing all the ways a good ER nurse could calm a panicked patient down.
I’d just managed to do it, too, when my mom let out an excited squeal.
“Here he is!”
My father peered out the kitchen window. “Nice limo.”
Mom tsked. “Forget the car, Bob. Look at the tux!”
My panicked gaze shot to Rachel as I mouthed, “Tux?”
She grinned. “Bet you’re wishing for those sequins now, huh?”
“No,” I growled. “I’m thinking I should have stayed in Indy!”
“Too late,” she crowed as she hauled me to my feet, then in rapid succession adjusted my neckline (lower), bra placement (higher), and the length of the skirt (way too high). I slapped her hands away right when the doorbell rang.
Mom answered it before I could stop her. Fortunately, I was in the living room hidden from view by a recliner and a large lamp. I heard Mom gush the usual stuff: “Aren’t you handsome? And what a game you had today!”
I glanced over at Rachel in a panic. I mean, I knew they’d won, but I’d been getting ready so I hadn’t actually watched the game. Fortunately, my dad had. He picked up the slack.
“Nice backhanded stop on that double play. But I was sure you were safe at first in the fifth inning.”
“Umps are blind,” Jake answered, his voice a low rumble that slid down my spine in all the best ways. “But at least they’re evenly blind. I couldn’t believe Connor made that catch in the sixth. It kept us in the game.”
“Oh stop, you two,” Mom chided. “There’s more to life than baseball. Now come in, come in. Ellie’s here and waiting.”
Jesus, if this were any more like a prom date, I’d be descending the stairs while Dad shot pictures. It was time to assert some adulthood. Taking a split second to tug my skirt a little lower, I stepped into the hallway and stopped cold.
I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. Years ago, my prom date had arrived sweating bullets in an ill-fitting tux. Not Jake.
First, no sweat.
Second, his tux fit like a dream and emphasized every mouthwatering inch of him—broad shoulders, muscular torso, trim hips. I hadn’t seen the back side yet, but I’d seen him in his uniform. I knew his butt was one of his best features.
Third, he was carrying a dozen roses, which he handed off to my mother.
Wait…my mother?
“These are for you, Mrs. McDonald.” He glanced over to Rachel. “I’ve sent another dozen to you at your loft, since I know this date wouldn’t be happening without your help.”
And then his gaze landed on me. I was about to say something about him giving roses to every female in my family except me. But my thoughts were short-circuited the moment his gaze landed on me.
It was all in his eyes. Sure, his body stilled. His hands paused, and his mouth slipped open a bit. His nostrils might even have flared, but his eyes were what mesmerized me. They looked at me from top to bottom and back again. And then they just held my face. He seemed awestruck, his gaze taking on a laser-like intensity that I’d only seen him have when he played.
Okay, I admit it—I’d watched him play a few thousand times, seeing the camera catch the way he’d knock down a grounder with ease and whip it to first base. I’d even made it into a GIF, repeating that catch, pivot, turn, over and over. It was that one moment when everything in his body and mind were aimed at one goal: to get the runner out.
Except now, that attention was locked on me. My breath caught, my toes curled in my sparkly sandals, and yes, my nipples tightened. Right there in front of my parents. But hell, I couldn’t stop it. And I certainly couldn’t look away. Jake Armstrong had his gaze focused on me, and I was powerless in his grip.
And the silence stretched on.
In the end, it was Rachel who broke the moment. “Flowers for me, huh? Cool. What did you bring for Ellie?”
Blunt, much? My cheeks heated to crimson. “Um, I kind of forced him into this date, Rach. He doesn’t need to give…” My voice trailed away as he pulled out a velvet jewelry pouch from his pocket and held it out to me. But at my words, he tightened his fist around it.
“You didn’t force me,” he said, his tone indignant. “How could I be forced into a date?”
Oh, shit. Had I wounded his pride? “Um, because I asked you out. In public. And in a way you probably felt you couldn’t refuse.”
He snorted, the sound at odds with his GQ appearance. It told me, as clearly as anything, that peer pressure wasn’t a factor in anything he did. And then suddenly, he was back to smooth. His hand relaxed on the jewelry pouch, but he didn’t give it to me. Instead, he used his other hand to reach out to me. I hadn’t thought he was close enough to touch me, but he was an athlete, quickly nabbing my numbed fingers and tugging me forward.
I took a step, grateful I didn’t stumble when he raised the back of my hand to his mouth. His lips were soft and the slip of wetness when his tongue slid over my skin was indecently erotic. And then he flipped my hand over so my palm was facing up.
“I wanted to go on a date with you, Ellie. You have no idea how much.”
And then he opened the jewelry pouch and spilled a silver charm bracelet into my palm. It was heavy in my hand and glimmered in the light.
“May I put it on you?” Now he had the smooth moves to go with the GQ attire. Enough that I couldn’t speak except to nod.
He released my hand, then picked up the bracelet and linked it around my wrist. I shivered at his touch. It wasn’t just the tingles that came with the caress. No, I was still looking at his eyes, and his gaze was holding mine with an intensity that set my nerves on fire as he fastened the jewelry on.
Dark, deep green eyes. And while he held my wrist, his gaze dropped to my mouth.
My lips were dry, so I licked them. It was an unconscious gesture, but the moment I did it, his hand tightened on my wrist. His nostrils flared. And damn if he didn’t draw me another step closer.
Um, was it possible to orgasm from just having a hand around your wrist? While in front of your parents? I never would have thought so, but I was wet in places and plump in others. And I was still powerless to do anything but feel.
“Oh, look!” said Rachel. “It’s got your number on it.”
“Yes, it does,” Jake said as he lifted my wrist higher into the light.
Then he looked away from my face. And when he shifted, I was finally able to tear my gaze away from him. Spell broken, right? Except no. My eyes went where he wanted them, to where our hands were joined and the number 32 flashed on my bracelet right next to a baseball charm.
I felt marked. It was silly. But the moment I saw his number on my wrist, I felt like I was his. Labeled. Claimed. Owned. It should have triggered all my feminist outrage, but it didn’t. Instead, I felt warmed in a deliciously naughty way. Like I shouldn’t want this, but oh my God, I did.
And that confused me.
“Do you like it?” Jake asked. He twisted my wrist to show me the charms.
“I love it,” I whispered. “It’s beautiful, and it’s your number.”
He flashed me a grin. “Is that your way of saying, You’ve got my number?”
“I think that would be you saying it to me, right? You’re the one who picked it.”
His grin widened. “Maybe I was. Or maybe I just like the idea of you wearing it.”
Hell, I already knew I’d happily wear anything of his. His jersey. His number. His anything. But I couldn’t say that out loud. Because somehow, I’d stepped even closer to him. Near enough to catch his scent mixed with some cologne that smelled expensive. It went straight to my head and tangled my tongue.
And then Jake was steering me out the door. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”
“Where are you going?” Rachel asked as she followed a step behind us.
“None of your business,” I said with a bit of snark, then immediately flushed. Apparently, I’d fallen into my old habit of striking out at my bolder sister whenever I felt inadequate. Fortunately, she took it in stride with a laugh that never failed to charm anyone who heard it.
I glanced surreptitiously at Jake. Was he turning to look at her? I wouldn’t blame him. It was that laugh that got her a job doing radio. No one could resist it.
Except Jake. He didn’t even break his stride. His gaze was on my wrist and the charm bracelet. His body was gently touching mine—a hand at my lower back, his shoulder sweetly bracing mine—as he guided me to the limo.
The spiteful sibling in me cheered. It was a small thing, but damn, how wonderful to be with a guy who wasn’t distracted by Rachel. Even though it was just one moment, it was enough to make me feel special. I flushed with warmth. And it lingered as I stepped into the limo and slid across the seat. My skirt rode up, of course, and I showed a lot of thigh.
I started thinking about cellulite and all kinds of other horrible things. Was I still bruised from that seizure patient? But one glance at Jake’s face had me blushing for other reasons. His gaze was right on my legs, and his mouth was split into a lascivious grin. And when he realized I was looking at him, he lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.
“Have I mentioned how much I love that dress?”
“Um, no. You haven’t.”
“I’ve never seen a more beautiful dress or a more beautiful woman wearing it.”
Over the top, much? Yes, of course. But did it work on me? Hell, yes. Because he seemed to mean it. There was no part of him that wasn’t fully absorbed in looking at me. And that made me feel beautiful. And sexy. And so wet, I feared I would start sliding on the seat.
Jake climbed in and slid close while the chauffeur shut the door and spun sharply around before heading to the driver’s seat. I didn’t want to be swayed by shallow things like a tux and a chauffeur—not to mention a sparkly bracelet—but I was halfway under Jake’s spell. What girl got all this on a date? It was a fantasy come true. Especially when Jake gestured to the minibar and smiled.
“Care for a drink?”
I shook my head. I was already light-headed from the extravagance of everything.
With a cheeky grin, Jake pushed up the privacy window, effectively sealing us into a cocoon of leather and glass. And Jake. All Jake. Then he leaned close to whisper into my ear. He took his time at it, teasing my hair with his breath and the shell of my ear with his heat. I had to clench my hands together to keep them from trembling too obviously. Or from grabbing him, when I’d made a big deal of how this wouldn’t end in sex.
And then he spoke and effectively killed the entire mood.
“Okay, Ellie. Fess up. What’s this really all about?”