He studied her while reaching for the bowl of mixed nuts on the bar. “You know, I didn’t peg you for a pansy-ass drinker. I’d have guessed you’d drink beer. Maybe a Scotch. Something tough anyway.”

She thought of Sam’s Scotch in her purse. Maybe she should have stuck with that. “You think I’m tough?”

“Well, not as tough as me, but close. Hey, Skipper,” he said to Gage as the manager bellied up to the bar with smooth ease, gesturing with a nod of his chin to the brunette bartender.

Gage was built like his players. Plus, he had the rugged dark looks of his Latino heritage going for him, along with a smile that could slice an ump—or charm a reporter. Holly should know. He’d charmed her at the continental breakfast that morning, where she’d gotten almost nothing out of him except stats and a detailed account of how much volunteer work the guys did with their 4 The Kids charity.

“You getting lucky tonight?” Wade asked him.

“I already did with the win,” he said as the pretty bartender brought him a beer and a smile as he turned to Holly, gesturing to the makeup-covered bruise on her forehead. “How’s that bump Pace got you?”

“Better, thank you. Speaking of Pace, where is he tonight?”

Look at her, all casually working that into the conversation.

But Gage saw right through her as he took a pull of his drink, and offered an easy smile. “Oh, around, I imagine.” With a friendly clap on Wade’s shoulder, he moved off, heading for a pretty woman waving at him from across the room.

The first bartender was finally back with their drinks. Holly’s came without a backward glance. Wade’s came on a napkin with a phone number on it. He pocketed the napkin and winked at Holly, who rolled her eyes and turned to eye the crowd, which had doubled, filling with locals and fans who wanted to see the players.

And still no sight of Pace. She really should go to her room and take some Advil. Sleep. Write . . .

Ty and Joe pressed in close to the bar near Wade and Holly, trying to get a drink, but both bartenders were now at the other end, even more slammed than before. Since the drinks were free, Holly simply moved around the bar and filled their order, to their eternal gratitude.

“You’re handy,” Wade noted.

“I really am.” With an easy camaraderie, they sat there and people-watched, and there was a lot of watching to be had. The women were everywhere, in all shapes and sizes—big and petite, sexy and cute, beautiful and not—and they all had one thing in common: they wanted to be with the players, wanted to see them, meet them, talk to them.

Sleep with them.