His lips thinned as he leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest, the muscled lines of his biceps straining his sleeves.
“All right, Jessa.” His deep Southern drawl rolled over her. “How about we try this again. I’m Garrett. Sorry I’m late, but I have a good reason. If you’re willing to hear it, that is.”
Jessa was going to scream if he didn’t stop staring at her as if he knew what she looked like naked. It made her want to show him, which wouldn’t be good for either of them. She fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m sure I’ll hear all about it on the six o’clock news. I hope you wore protection.”
Jesus, what was wrong with her? She didn’t give a shit who he got busy with. And she wasn’t the kind of person to be rude to others. And yet … “You should feel lucky I’m not going to fine you.”
He shook his head, lazy smile back in place. “I never fuck without a glove, darlin’, but thanks for the concern.”
“Oh, my God, you did not just say that.” She covered her face with her hands to hide her mortification. She’d never had a guy — a virtual stranger — talk to her that way before. Even if she had deserved it. If he’d meant to embarrass her, he’d succeeded.
“You’re the one that brought it up. I was just trying to reassure you.”
Her fingers itched to wipe that stupid grin off his face. Arrogant son of a bitch. “Just keep it off the news.” She snapped.
“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”
She gave him a smile of her own, inwardly pleased when his eyes flared in response. “Let’s see if I can get this right. Garrett Donovan, golden boy from Mississippi, played college ball for four years, forgoing early draft in lieu of receiving a degree in agriculture.” She considered him. “Although I’m not sure why you would do that. Anyway, batting average four-hundred-and-three. You run the sixty in under six-point-three. You had twenty-three home runs, fifty-six RBI’s and twenty-nine stolen bases your senior year alone. How am I doing so far?”
“Golden boy, huh?” His lips curled into a wicked grin. “You sure have a mess of stats in that pretty head of yours. What else ya got?”
Jessa bit back a smile. Oh, he was charming. Dangerous. The kind of man she should avoid. “You never used the standard aluminum bat, preferring the wooden bats you knew you’d be using if you got to the big club.” Which, okay, impressed her a little. Not that she’d tell him that.
Before she could continue, Jim Freeman, longtime pitcher for the Empire, entered the tunnel. Jessa’s tension eased somewhat as Jim strolled over, his gaze friendly and warm.
“Hi, Jessa.” Jim held out his fist to Garrett. “What’s up, G?”
Garrett fist bumped the guy. “Hey, Jim. How was the workout?”
“Brutal.” Jim laughed. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Garrett actually beamed. “You got that right. Seven pounds, six ounces of beautiful baby girl.” Their high-five resonated through the walkway.
Jessa stared in shock. Baby? What baby? Her brain rifled through all the information she had on Garrett and came up blank. No girlfriend that she’d heard about, and certainly no wife.
“Jessa?” Garrett was calling her name, waving his hand in front of her face.
“What? Sorry.”
“Where’d you go?”
Her face heated again. She’d never blushed so much as in the last few minutes with this man. “Never mind. What were we talking about?” She ran her sweaty palms down the front of her shorts.
“You were thinkin’ you had me all figured out.” He was dangerously close to her now, one arm propped on the wall above her head.
When had he moved so close?
“I know what I need to know.” She looked around for Jim, only to discover they were once again alone.
His laugh was deep, husky. “I guess we’ll see about that.” He leaned in, the rim of his cap teasing her hair. “You smell good. Like strawberries.” His breath was warm against her face. “Makes me hungry.”