She considered him for a precious few seconds, how he stood there tall and silent and tense with what she’d bet her last dollar was pain. That softened her unexpectedly, and she had the oddest urge to touch him. “People want to read about you, Pace.”

“They can read about me already. You can, too, just Google me.”

“Already have. There’s very little known about you other than your ball play, which is by all accounts amazing. You have world-class velocity and control, both reflected in your stats. You always use your head, and you’re never without a game plan.” She pulled a couple of magazines from her file to quote from. “You can pitch in any situation, you have the stuff to make it work, and you have guts. Newsweek.” She shifted to another. “Batting against you is just about impossible, the balls come out of nowhere, no one can judge your rotation, speed, or the break of the ball. Sports Illustrated.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “Use that. You can add that my sexual prowess is unrivaled, if you’re so inclined.”

She laughed, even as a small part of her wanted to say “Prove it.” “Come on. Give me more.”

“Like?”

“Like what’s wrong with your shoulder?”

“Nothing.”

She stared at him and he stared back, stoic and tough as nails. “Wow, Pace. I don’t know how I’m going to fit all this great new info into my article.”

He smiled tightly. “You look capable. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“Okay, let’s try something easier.”

He looked at her from behind those dark glasses, eyes hidden, thoughts inaccessible. “Let’s,” he said softly.

“What would you say makes your team so strangely beloved in the public eye?”

“Strangely? A real fan, huh?”

Actually, she did enjoy baseball, and in junior college she’d even made extra money running the scoreboard for home games. The money she’d earned had paid for her books and the Top Ramen noodles that had sustained her through those lean years, which had been virtually rich compared to her childhood. “What I think isn’t relevant here.”

“Given that you’re the one setting the tone for your article, I think it is.”

“Articles. Plural. To be run throughout the summer. What is it about your team that the public loves so much?”

“We win. One more question, that’s it.”

“And then I go away?”

“That would be great,” he said with such feeling she laughed.

And as impatient as she might be, she also knew when to back off. “Fine. Last one—tell me what happened to you out in the pen today.”

When his eyes lit with something that looked suspiciously like triumph, she knew she’d been had, that he’d successfully distracted her from something else. “Wait—”