She stared at his broad shoulders and ached for him, hoping with all her heart what he said was true. “The press and blogs have been tough on you guys lately. Does that affect your game?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because press, good or bad, is intangible. It’s about the game for me, not about what people think.”

“But people are fascinated by you. You know that, right?”

He shook his head. “A fact I’ve never really wrapped my brain around.”

“Your bio says you moved twenty-seven times before you graduated high school and headed off to San Diego State. After that, your record speaks for itself, but very little is known about your private life.”

“It’s not about my private life.”

“Come on, Pace. You know people want to know about you, what makes you tick.”

“What makes me tick . . .” He let out a long, exasperated breath. “You know my father, career military all the way. Hardcore. He expects the best of the best. The only thing I had a shot at being the best at was baseball. I just got lucky it panned out.”

She suspected luck had nothing to do with it. It was most likely a product of growing up under the thumb of a man who’d been hard-nosed, hard-assed, and not exactly nurturing. “Actually, your life isn’t so different from a military lifestyle. You’re focused, disciplined, hard-working. You train daily, you’re single-minded—”

“I play ball for a living, Holly. Fun and games, all the time.”

“I don’t believe that, and I don’t think you do either. You take this profession incredibly seriously.” He was silent so she went for anther angle. “What do you see yourself doing after?”

“I’m not retiring.”

“Eventually you will. You going to enjoy your millions or move on to something else? Coaching maybe, like Red? Managing, like Gage? Or maybe golf. You could play charity golf tournaments—”

“I thought you were going to make this painless.” He turned his back to her and stood there, his broad shoulders blocking the moonlight, creating a sort of halo around him.

But he was no angel, and she knew it.

Not even close.

And she ached for him anyway. Maybe because of it. She wanted him, flaws and all. But this wasn’t about her and her wants. “Back to the drugs,” she said quietly. “Under the new rules, everyone gets tested annually. An invasion of privacy or a necessity?”

“Hell,” he muttered under his breath and swiped a hand over his face. “A necessity.”

“You’ve never had a whisper about you being on any stimulants, and yet you throw like a machine.”

“Because I know how to throw like a machine. I don’t do drugs, Holly.”

She felt his temper, and his control, and could appreciate both. “What about the other players on the Heat?”

“You can’t ask me a question like that.”