Josh saw the sign with the Las Vegas Neons logo on it, his name scrawled in black spiky letters. He waved his hand above the crowd and veered toward his driver.
“Josh!” the driver beamed, his familiar accent reaching above the crowd.
“Hey, Ric! Looking good, my man,” Josh said, and the two slapped each other on the arm. “Wife doing okay these days?”
“She’s due in a month, can you believe it? I’m gonna be a papá!” the man said, grinning from ear to ear.
Josh congratulated him. He glanced at Gretchen, her nose in her phone. He didn’t want to part ways here, at the busy airport.
He wanted more time.
“Ric. I have a request. This is Gretchen. She bought me a coffee today. I’d like to repay her kindness by dropping her off at her hotel. Is that okay?”
“Whatever you say, boss.” Ric winked, and grinned at Gretchen, his dark eyes sparkling.
“Oh Josh, it’s okay, I can take a shuttle, really,” Gretchen protested, putting her phone back in her pocket.
“No arguing. Just say, ‘Yes, Josh, that would be lovely.’” He shushed her with a finger over her mouth.
She laughed, stood on her tiptoes, and impulsively kissed his cheek. “All right, all right. You win. Thank you.”
When her lips touched his cheek, he reveled in the feeling of her being so close to him. As she turned to follow Ric, he wanted to pull her to him and do naughty things right there in the airport. Even not touching her for a second was driving him nuts.
She felt good curved into his body, and the way her hips moved made it difficult to think straight as she walked ahead of him.
His body was at war with his brain because he didn’t do the girl-in-every-city routine like a lot of players and had never had a one night stand in his entire professional life. It was always too risky; his career was more important than a roll in the hay. He didn’t want to hurt her, since she was both sweet and nice and not likely to be the kind of girl who would fall into bed on a whim.
Or not . . . he had no clue since he really didn’t know her at all.
But as she pushed through the doors to the pickup area, he paused. Maybe the idea of a distraction was the best way to look at it. He’d have to be clear on the rules. No strings, right?
He warred with himself as to how to handle this physical attraction with the knowledge it could be just that. Besides, who knew where he was going to end up in the next few weeks? Likely not back in Toronto.
They stepped out into the cool desert night and he took in a deep breath of dry air. It wasn’t that he hated Vegas; he loved it here. When he was in the minors, he had played well when his team had visited and had loved playing here when he was originally brought into the farm team system for the Sixers. A particular grand slam one night in the Vegas diamond had been the play to clinch him his spot in the Show, and he was traded to Boston for a draft-round pick.
The general manager, whom everyone called Coach, was a constant in his life who had helped him get to where he was, and in the few stints he’d done down here in the past few years, recovering from injuries or simply taking a breather, he’d clicked with the team and management. Often, he’d work the lineups and critique some of the younger players at practice. But it wasn’t where he wanted to be at this stage in his career.
When Josh had arrived at the airport to head to Vegas, he had wanted to be anywhere else but there. And now, as he watched Ric heft Gretchen’s suitcase into the back of the team van, he didn’t want to be anywhere but with her. Preferably naked. He ran a hand over his face.
He was losing it.
He must have made a sound, because Gretchen turned to him and asked. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Tired, maybe.”
She walked back to him and looked him square in the eye.
“Time to get you out of here, I think,” she murmured and pointed.
More people had recognized both him and the Neons logo on the side of the van. Autograph requests were headed his way if they didn’t get in the van soon.
However, he was rooted to the spot. She was practically begging him to kiss her with those eyes, but now was not the right time. He wasn’t sure when that was. Dinner? Night walk on the strip? Bed? Could that be where this was headed?
“Josh? We’re loaded,” Ric said. “Let’s go.”
Josh helped Gretchen into the van and hopped in beside her.
He turned on his phone. It immediately started buzzing. As he buckled up and told Ric which hotel to drive to, he saw Gretchen poking away at her own screen again. They had been completely wrapped up in one another and had forgotten about the outside world. He didn’t want it to invade now, but he couldn’t ignore it.
It was his job.
“Frig,” he muttered and flipped through his messages to make sure there was nothing important. A few media requests for statements, which he forwarded to the club publicity people and his agent, Harv, to reply to. Likely tomorrow he’d do a quick scrum at practice.
Javier, Timo, and a couple of the other guys had all left texts saying how stupid everything was, how he’d be back, to go have fun in Vegas for a couple of weeks and get laid. The usual bullshit. It was heartening, but he turned the phone off again.
He didn’t want to think about baseball. He turned to talk to Gretchen instead. She was on the phone, so he relaxed in his seat and waited.
“I see, there’s nothing you can do?” she snapped, her shoulders drooping as she sighed. “Fine, thank you. Of course. I’ll try that.”
With an irritated growl, she ended the call, her nostrils flaring.
Despite her frustration, it was kind of adorable.
“My turn to ask you if you’re okay,” he said as she muttered a very soft “fuck” under her breath.
“The hotel doesn’t have a record of my reservation.” Gretchen gripped her phone like she was about to toss it out the window.
“And yay me, there are no rooms left, even though I have the email with my booking. They’re full. I’m officially without a place to stay.”
“Slight change of plans,” Josh said to Ric, “We’ll take Gretchen to the Luxor to see if they have some rooms available.”
Ric nodded and, humming a random tune, wound his way through the strip traffic, barreling up toward the massive, gleaming pyramid. The lumbering van swayed, and Josh sat back, one hand on the armrest. He had stayed at the Luxor during previous visits with friends who had flown in for the weekend. He was sure he could pull some strings since they had rented one of the suites and dropped some cash that weekend. Plus, she had her booking confirmation for their sister hotel. If they had rooms, he’d try to get her a nice one for the mess-up.
“It’s right beside the Mandalay, so you won’t have to go far,” he said. Ric made an illegal turn on the strip into the Luxor main entrance.
“That’s fine. I’m not sure—” she started, looking out the window, her hands braced on the seat. She looked uncertain, and he met Ric’s eyes in the rearview as the van jolted over the speed bumps at the entrance.
Ric said, “I’ll wait here in case you don’t luck out. Milady, we’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you, uh—”
“Ricardo, but my friends call me Ric.”
Josh got out of the truck, helping her down from the sliding door as she shimmied over in the seat. He grabbed her hand, and he wanted to just stay there with her. He was a starving man, and she looked delicious.
They walked quickly through the casino, the sounds and lights a cacophony of noise assaulting them. Everywhere people were laughing, talking, and smoking. The airport had been busy, but this was a different kind of crowd with less purpose and urgency.
Through the groups of partiers, you could see the people that hadn’t moved in hours, their cards on curlicue bungees attaching them to the machine, empty food wrappers and glasses littering the floor under the chair.
He enjoyed Vegas, but this part he hated: the part that ruined lives. Sometimes even players on the team would fall for the lure of the big win, their paychecks drained onto a card table in one night. He supposed he was practical and boring, but he never had time for this side of living here and always stayed away. Too much was at stake, and baseball was always the focus anyway. He wondered if Gretchen liked gambling, and he wanted to know what she thought about it. He wanted her to hate it as well, to find something in common with her.
“It is a bit crazy, isn’t it? I’m not one for that kind of stuff, really,” Gretchen offered, reading his mind, squeezing his hand.
“Waste of money.”
The relief washed over him again, and he towed her toward the desk.
. . .
Gretchen was officially in a dream.
She was no longer awake, and soon she would jolt upright in her economy seat, the fantasy in front of her simply that. She pinched herself, then bit the inside of her cheek to make sure.
Nope, not sleeping. Not dreaming. She palmed her open makeup bag, having rummaged for some lip balm, and took it all in as she set it on the desk. Dear God, the room was big. Too big for one person.
“Holy shit,” she whispered, turning slowly, stopping to marvel at the view, the soft brown hues and Egyptian-themed decorations paling in comparison to the lights below her. The towers of the Excalibur Hotel beside them shimmered red and blue, and the strip peeled away from them in either direction, a ribbon of moving light.
A thump behind her made her turn, and there was Josh, putting her suitcase down, phone to his ear, talking a mile a minute to someone. He flashed a smile and then strode to the desk. She watched, transfixed, as he scribbled something down on the paper pad beside the phone, said thank you, and ended the call.
She’d never acted this boldly in her life. She assumed it was the wine, exhaustion, the steamroll of sensations coursing through her, and No-Regrets-Vegas headiness conspiring to turn her into this strange version of herself. But they had been dancing around this for hours now—she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“All set?” he asked, stepping to her, looking down into her upturned face. She gestured around her, flummoxed that he was able to get such a room for a decent rate.
“This is too much, Josh! I mean, it’s beautiful, but—”
“They’ve comped you the same rate, right? Why not? The view is really great, it’s in the tower so you don’t have to take those ridiculous sideways elevators either.” Josh’s smile got deeper, and Gretchen stopped talking, her mouth dry. She wanted to trace his lower lip with her tongue, and her eyes shifted to his mouth.
Steadying herself from attacking him like a hormonal teenager, she decided, as he let out a soft man-groan and pulled her to him, that she was okay with this tactic.
Her senses sparked in all directions as he bent his head, lips hovering over hers, his arm holding her to him by her waist, and she could have melted into a puddle right then and there. Oh. My.
God. Josh Malvern was going to kiss her. FINALLY.
“I have been wanting to do this,” he murmured, and then kissed her.
She opened up to him, her hands exploring his muscled body, letting the sensation of his kiss travel the length of her. He was not gentle but not rough. She liked that. His teeth grazed her lower lip, and she growled, grabbing his shirt. It seemed he brought out her inner bad girl.
She was okay with that too.
He broke away slightly, both of them breathing hard, and put his forehead to hers, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath.
“Jesus,” she whispered, peeking up at his closed eyes, his jaw clenched as he tried to regain some control.
“Hmmm?” he mumbled, opening his eyes and quirking an eyebrow.
“That was the best cup of coffee I have ever bought,” she blurted.
He snorted a laugh and stood back from her, control suddenly back in place, twirling her in mock dance, making her even dizzier. She wanted more. Much more but realized he likely did not have the time for it, his ride waiting in the drop-off, the summer ball schedule in full swing and demanding his time the minute he landed. But if it could be one night? She wanted to make it amazing. She was being selfish.
“Have a late dinner with me,” he blurted out before she could.
“Say yes.”
. . .
What demotion? All he could think about was how goddamned good her lips had felt when he kissed her.
“Josh? You want me to take you home? Or do you want me to turn around and take you back to the hotel where you left your brain?”
Josh broke out of his thoughts and turned to Ric, who was driving the van through stop-and-go traffic, weaving and jerking as they made their way out toward the team apartments. Ric was grinning ear to ear, his hands drumming on the oversize steering wheel to the background pop music on the radio.
“What?”
Ric’s entire body shook from laughter and he waggled a finger.
“I see the way you look at her, my friend.”
“And how is that?” Josh countered, peeved at being transparent.
“Like a hungry man,” Ric chuckled. “I don’t blame you. She looks sweet enough to eat. A good distraction for you.”
Josh looked out the window at the lights and people. Maybe he was looking to distract himself from what was really the problem, which was his career. But was distraction what he needed right now? He should be laser-focused on getting back to the majors.
The resolve he’d had in her hotel room was wavering.
“Jesus, Ric, I just met her. But thanks for the offer,” he deflected, then laughed. Ric arched his eyebrow, side-eyed him, and then cut three people off to get to the exit he needed.
Ten minutes later, Josh turned the key to his assigned villa unit and sighed as he set his bags down. Swedish furniture, cookie-cutter art, galley kitchenette, a low-to-the-ground queen bed, and a stand-up shower. He missed his apartment in Toronto already, with the massive jet tub and California King Posturepedic mattress.
Awesome. Just awesome. He thought about turning around and heading right back for the Luxor and blowing a pile of cash staying there for the duration, but if this stay was prolonged, he would have to think economically. He was well-off, but he wasn’t Alex Rodriguez rich. Besides, he could walk to the field from here, and the jogging was first class in the early mornings in Vegas—the weather was always perfect.
A shower was in order. He poked at his phone, sending a text to Timo and Javier that he’d arrived safely, and spent a few moments checking his email again, sitting on the edge of the couch. He needed to report in tomorrow morning by ten for batting practice.
A text buzzed in from an unfamiliar number and he flicked over to it.
Seeing friend @ Aurora. Meet there when u r able to get back?
A friend? She would likely know people coming into this wine thing and had said she wanted to spend time with her best friend.
He immediately quashed the jealousy that threatened to seep into him; she wasn’t his. He just wanted her to himself for the night, if nothing else. That was all it was.
Sure. Showering. Be there soon.
He set the phone down and it dinged again. He picked it back up, expecting a simple okay and he immediately got a shot of arousal.
That was a mental image I can hold on to until I see you.
He’d never showered faster.