She turned back to him. “Why did you give it up?”

He patted his flat-as-a-board belly, and she laughed. “Come on.”

“Hey, you hit thirty and your metabolism changes.”

“You’re worried about your girlish figure?” Which was anything but girlish . . .

“It made me sluggish. But I miss it, especially when I’m just sitting. There’s a lot of hurry up and wait in baseball, emphasis on the wait. You’ll get used to it.”

She nodded, then shook her head.

“Or not.” He eyed the bruise on her forehead, the one she’d not been entirely successful at covering up. “Ouch.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Just do me a favor and don’t offer to play catch with any of these guys,” he said, gesturing to the guys around them. “The last woman who did was a quote ‘dancer’ from some underground club, and she played in the nude.”

She laughed.

“Seriously. TMZ took pics.”

“You’re making that up.”

“Google it.” With a flash of a quick, rare grin, he pushed out of the chair and left her alone.

She let out a long breath—her version of relaxing—and wished she had an Internet connection as she went back to her blank screen, where she absolutely did not fantasize about playing catch.

With Pace.

In the nude . . .

The team checked into the Philadelphia hotel together, Holly included. The atmosphere in the lobby slowly changed as people realized the Heat had arrived, and the players were sought out by autograph-seeking fans. Though Holly had read about baseball divas, not a single player seemed to mind as they stood around a few extra minutes making nice.

Even afterward, things remained simple. A few of the guys went to the hotel bar for a drink, others caught a movie. Some stayed in.

No one got wild and crazy.

They were a united group, yet respectful of their individual differences. It fascinated Holly, who found Mike and Kyle, the third baseman and right fielder, in the bar with Ty and Henry, and sat with them for a while. They talked about baseball’s place in history and how the perception of the game had changed, especially from a kid’s standpoint. These days, so much more was demanded of the players, and the guys were definitely feeling the pressure.

Mason, the first baseman, joined them, as did Joe. The discussion was blog-worthy, and as the bar began to fill up with women, Holly left the guys to go write up some notes. But the late afternoon sun drew her, and she stepped outside the hotel for some fresh air, eyeing a nicely built runner heading her way as the fading sunlight reflected off his sunglasses.

Pace.