“Is that what she said?” She sounded pleased as she leaned back, resting her head. “Good.” She was quiet for another few minutes. “I really wish I’d started a series about the beauty and serenity of some island in the South Pacific instead of doing it on baseball. I’d be on the beach right now, my toes in the water, sipping something cool and refreshing while being served by a cute—and silent—cabana boy.”

“It’s not too late.” He drove into the stadium and pulled up to her car.

“I want my panties back, Pace.” She didn’t get out. She didn’t move a muscle actually, except to slowly turn her head and give him a pissed-off look. “Don’t make me take your ass down like I did Tia’s. I could do it, too.”

Torn between laughter and the need to wrap his fingers around her pretty neck, he just looked at her. “Honest to God, I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Trust me, you’re not the first one to face that problem.” She got out of his car, shut the door, then gave him a long, indecipherable look. “But when you figure it out? Let me know.”

Being taken down on the asphalt by a crazed baseball fanatic and then being arrested had discombobulated Holly for a few shocking hours, but she’d gathered herself now.

And gathered quite a temper as well.

She stood in her shower until she had no hot water left, then pulled on sundress as someone knocked on her door. Unless it was a loaded pizza or a chocolate cake, she was not interested. She looked through the peephole, saw Pace standing there and her heart leapt inexplicably into her throat. Dammit, she was mad at him, and yet there he stood, calm and steady.

It didn’t escape her how carefully he was holding his right arm as he waggled the fingers of his left hand at her through the tiny glass.

She opened the door. “Go away.”

He shook his head. “No can do,” he said and gently nudged her aside so he could step in.

She slapped a hand to his chest, giving him a shove back.

His lips curved as he allowed her to roughhouse him, when they both knew if he used his strength and dug in his heels, she couldn’t have budged him a single inch.

“I’d really like to come in,” he said.

“If you do, I have questions.”

“What a surprise.” Making the decision for her, he kicked the door closed behind him and reached for her hand. He was in jeans and battered Adidas, his shirt stretching taut across those yum shoulders, and suddenly all she wanted to do was hold onto him, and maybe kiss him, and maybe also get his clothes off.