The wind was working wonders on her again. Besides her hair—which had rioted completely now—her cheeks were tinged pink. Her jacket was whipping around, too, opening a little, making her look a whole hell of a lot less buttoned-up. Oddly disoriented by that, he glanced at the clock on the dash. “Listen, I really do have to be somewhere.” Several somewheres. It’d been a long while since his time had been his own. “I’ll call you a cab, have it meet up with us to take you back to your car.” He reached for his cell phone. “I’m sure Tia’s gone by now.”

“I can’t believe you’re afraid of her.”

She could be amused by this all she wanted, but Tia was more than just a five foot pain in his neck. Twice she’d gotten into the practice arena and climbed onto the field during home games. She’d attempted to break into the clubhouse as well, and he’d swear under oath that she’d been at his own house, walking the perimeter of his yard trying to find a way inside there, too. “Just do me a favor and stay clear of her. For your sake. Now I really have to—”

“How about this . . .” She pulled the cell phone from his hand and shut it. “I just come along to wherever you’re going.”

Yeah. Hell. That’s what he’d figured she’d say.

“Did you know that baseball players, pitchers especially, are usually blessed—or cursed, depending on how you look at it—with a natural physical prowess and acute mental agility? It manifests into self-confidence and mental toughness. Or, as some would say more clearly, arrogance.”

When he didn’t respond, she slid him an amused look. “It seems to be most prevalent in successful players. It stems from the desire to make things happen.”

“Good to know.”

“Did you also know you have to be one in two million to have the total package of physical and psychological abilities required to succeed in baseball at its highest level of competition?”

No. That was a new one.

“What’s fascinating about that is you’ve climbed this incredibly steep pyramid of players to make it to the top of a highly selective and narrow pool, which means you’re incredible under pressure, and yet you crumble like a little girl at the thought of an interview. Interesting, Pace. Very interesting.”

He stared at her in bafflement. “What do you want from me?”

“The interview.”