Page 17 of Turn Me On

Oh fuck.

This was not in my prep book. Not one bit.

He wraps his arms around me, and I’m inhaling that oak-y, showered scent of him.

Just like that, my mind scampers out of the kiddie park and marches straight into Adult Naughty Land.

2

DATING PROFILE

Zane

Every time I step into the batter’s box, I have a plan. Crowd the plate, get ahead in the count, foul off everything that looks remotely tasty.

For three years in the majors, the strategy has worked. My batting average climbed to more than three hundred last year, and it’s parked there nicely through early June.

I have a strategy for today too—treat Maddox like one of the guys. If I come on strong like I did the night we met, I’ll be thinking of him as hookup material, and that’s a recipe for trouble.

He’s a business partner. I have too much on the line to risk mixing business with pleasure.

The be-a-bud approach is how I played things when we texted about this trip to Los Angeles, making plans to meet before game one of my four-game series against the Bandits.

Admit it: you’ve got a spa day planned for us,I’d teased a few days ago.

Yes. Been meaning to ask—Swedish or sports massage?

Was hot stone not an option?

Ah, *particular about his massage services.* This is good intel,he’d replied.

Fine, don’t tell me. Just know this—I hate surprises,I’d said.

Zane, I promise I’m not surprising you. This is me literally telling you—we’re going to walk around Venice Beach, check out some shops, get a bite to eat, and chat. The better I know you, the better the deal I can make. It’s really that simple.

Now, as we wait in line at Edge & Plow, I survey the café. It’s cool and trendy, like the guy standing next to me. I survey him too—that wholeI-get-shit-donelook Maddox has going on with his tailored shirt, his expensive tie, and his fit-as-fuck slacks works for me big time.

Thanks a lot, temptation.

I get back in my mental batting stance. “So, this is the movie montage scene,” I muse as we wait for a couple of tourists—the white sneakers and khaki shorts are the giveaway—to order. “You know, where we wander around town and drink coffee and say witty things.”

“Do you have witty things prepared to say?” he counters.

“Hello? Back up five seconds—that was wit,” I say with a smile that covers some of my nerves about this meeting. Don’t want Maddox to know I’ve got any jitters whatsoever—about business, about baseball, or about my future in the game.

That’s the other reason I need to keep today on the level. I want to impress the fuck out of him so he’ll go to bat for me.

“Sure. You could call it a movie scene, then,” Maddox says. “But there won’t be a dressing room montage.”

I snap my fingers. “Damn. I was hoping for one.”

He gestures to the menu, diverting my attention. “What can I get for you? Coffee? Tea? Latte?”

I shudder. “I don’t drink hot beverages.”

He knits his brow in inquiry. “At all? As in, ever?”

“Nope. Never. Used to love black tea in the morning, but one time I burned my tongue when I got a tea from Starbucks. It was surface-of-the-sun hot.”