“What about dumping her because she’s looking as unreliable as hell?”

She pulled out her keys. “Thanks for the interview.” She cocked her head and looked at him. “I’m going to be honest with you here, Pace.”

Uh-oh. “Is it going to hurt?”

“Maybe.” She paused. “I’m interested in pursuing the drug angle.”

“Ah, hell.” He sighed. “It is. It’s going to hurt.”

“I want to write about what happened to Jim and Slam, and what happened to Henry and Ty.”

“You’ve got apples and oranges. Jim and Slam tested positive for drugs. Henry and Ty didn’t.”

“The pills—”

“Vitamins. Tucker’s, actually.”

“You take them, too, right?”

“Sometimes. When I remember. You’re not going to find anyone using on the Heat.”

She looked at him a long moment, then nodded. “Thanks for tonight.”

“But . . . ? Because I definitely sense a but at the end of that sentence.”

“But,” she agreed. “I’m going to write about what I want to write about.”

He thought about what she’d told him about her last boyfriend and how that had ended, and understood that this was the same sort of situation—her work came first, always, a fact he reluctantly understood, even respected, though he didn’t necessarily like it.

She tossed her purse and her keys into the passenger seat of her car and turned back to him. “I should tell you, I have a secret of my own.”

“You do?”

“I seem to have this little crush.” Her gaze warmed. “Three guesses.”

There she went, being direct again. If she was angry or hurt or mad, or whatever emotion she was feeling, she put it out there for the whole world to see. No games. No subterfuge. No guesswork. She was open and honest and blissfully candid. And though it was crazy, he was crazy, he put his hands on her hips and pulled her in. Needing to assuage the ache low in his gut, the ache that said that the one thing that had been his entire life was no longer enough, that he needed more, he stepped into the only person he wanted to give it to him. Heat coiled low in his belly as he said, “I have a crush, too, along with my own secret.”

“Which is?”

“You, Holly Hutchins, scare the hell out of me.”

“Ditto,” she whispered, not looking scared at all as she slid her fingers into his hair, tugging him down to put her mouth to his in a hard, smoldering kiss that managed to convey frustration, affection, and a mind-staggering heat. Far before he was ready, she let him go, and with a little smile, got into her car and drove off.

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Baseball is a fun game. It beats working for a living.

—Phil Linz