She wanted to see Pace. Knowing it, she made her way through the gang to the open bar and tried to get the attention of one of the two pretty, young bartenders, one blonde, one brunette, spending more time looking at the players than making drinks. She waited.

And waited.

“You don’t have a penis, so I’d give up.” Samantha smiled at her and opened her purse to pull out a flask. “It’s Scotch. I carry it when I fly because I’m such a wuss. Take it.”

“Oh, no, I—”

But Sam had moved on. Holly shook her head and tried once more in vain to get a much lighter drink from either of the bartenders. “I’m invisible,” she finally decided.

“Aw. Not to me, darlin’.” Wade nudged her shoulder with his as he worked his way in next to her, all three-day scruff and Prada sunglasses.

She’d learned several things about the Heat’s star catcher. For one, he was a world-class flirt and yet somehow, when he looked into her eyes, he made her feel like the only woman on the planet.

That he looked like a surfer didn’t hurt. Nope, all that sun-kissed beauty from head to toe really worked for him. Like the others, he was gorgeously built, but beneath that laid-back exterior was a sharp mind, a quick wit, and a fierce loyalty to those he cared about, making him about as easy to crack open as a brick wall. He was both cocky and discreet, a paradox she’d learned while trying to ask him some hard-hitting questions; she’d gotten nowhere. Nope, those deep sea green eyes of his had gone from sparkling to closed up tighter than a drum in a single heartbeat.

The entire team had that in common—tight lips.

“What can I get you to drink?” Wade asked her now.

“A wine cooler, if you can get it, thanks.”

He gestured to the closest bartender, the cute little blonde one, who ran over to him so fast she nearly killed her coworker.

Holly had been a bartender in college. Actually, she’d been a lot of things in college, since it had taken many, many jobs to pay her way. But she’d served quickly and efficiently, with a nice but distant smile, ensuring that she’d get tips but not hit on. The tactic hadn’t always worked. Sometimes she’d gotten stiffed, sometimes she’d gotten hit on in spite of her distance, and sometimes she’d gotten both stiffed and hit on, which had always pissed her off.

Wade winked at the blonde as he gave their order, then grinned at Holly as the woman rushed to get the drinks. “They like us here. We tip well.”

“I bet.”