Guarding the Line ~ Chapter 10 The Monday Night Bleacher Report

Though the Braves great season continues, I didn't watch one game the entire month of June. Just realized that. The third De Marco book is kicking my ass. That story now has four versions of the first three opening chapters--all good and yet ....(sigh). They'll make good fodder for a 'Deleted Scenes' page one of these days. Meanwhile, I need to pick one and go with it, if I hope to have this story out by September. 

I know Jennifer Simpkins' post today is about her daughter's All-Star experience, and I almost dread reading it. When she messaged me to say her child had been selected for the post-season team, I got all teary-eyed. Both my kids played, and both played All-Stars. Good times, when the focus moves from letting each child play to playing-to-win. I'm all for participation-style youth sports, but I confess, my fondest memories are of this time of year, when the casual players go home and the cream of the crop takes the field and it matters whether you win or lose. I recall driving for hours, spending entire Saturdays hanging out at some field, waiting to play your third or forth game of the day and hoping you won so you could come back on Sunday and do it again. Get some sunburn for me, Jennifer. 

Now my kids are having kids, leading my daughter to demand yesterday, "What in the HELL will I do if this child wants to sign up for cheerleading?" 

My reply of "Duct tape will stop that in it's tracks," was only half in jest...

Speaking of competitive natures, Mike showing his tenacious side to Verity in today's partial Chapter 10.

Verity disconnected the call and stared at the crystals in front of her. No matter how many times she threw them, they stubbornly revealed nothing. Scowling, she placed them back into the box and waved her hand. Something was blocking her, but what? The box disappeared, leaving her to think about what to wear. A dress, of course, but which one?

She found a beaded flapper dress in a shade of violet she knew set off her eyes to perfection. Easing the tiny straps over her shoulders, she twirled in front of the mirror, pleased with the way the beaded fringe accented each small movement. She’d always adored the way the beads caressed her thighs when she walked, and the silky lining was heaven to her bare skin. She found the matching heels and slipped them on her feet before turning to grapple with the zipper. Done, she sat down to buckle the straps on her shoes and tried to decide whether to drive, which she usually preferred, or to tell him she’d taken a cab, in case she decided to bring him home. Too bad Rosemary turned up at the club tonight. It’s never a good idea to fool with magic when seeing a human. Sage had proven that. She’d drive to the restaurant. She grabbed a deep purple pashmina and headed down the stairs. Jerking open the front door, Verity came to a dead stop, staring in disbelief at the man on her porch. Caught in the act of raising his hand to knock, her visitor froze.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. He eyed her boldly, seeming unintimidated by her tone. “We established a long time ago you do not just drop in on me.” With each word, she drove her finger into his chest. Fury tightened her skin, and before she thought, she gestured to the roses.

“Darling Verity, you look ravishing. That dress has always been one of my favorites. Here, I brought you a gift.”  He held out a small leather bag.

The long, thorny vines wrapped around his legs. His eyes widened and he dropped the bad imitation of some old movie star. “I see you missed me.”

“Stone, get off my porch before I have them attack. And I have no interest in your gift.”

Moonlight glinted off his dark hair when he cocked his head. “I come in peace, Verity. I found this in Rome and knew you’d love it.” .

She ignored his outstretched hand. “As you can see, I’m going out.  Some other time, Stone.”  She twitched her index finger and the thorny vines tightened.

“I’ll just leave the gift, then.” With a snap of his fingers, the bag in his hand disappeared.  She knew she’d probably find it later on her dresser. He gave her a mocking look. “No kiss good-bye?”

Before she could shred his legs with the wild rose vines, he disappeared, becoming one more shadow in the darkness. Impatiently, she motioned the roses back to their normal position.

“Thank you Mother dearest, wherever you are,” she whispered, trying not to scream. “If you want that damn ring, you need to stop screwing with me.”

 ****

Jesus F. Christ, she’s gorgeous. Mike watched Verity approach through the glass restaurant doors. Admiring the dress and her legs as she walked was making him stupid, she was reaching for the handle by the time he remembered to open the door for her.

“I do love a man with manners.” She tipped her lips up for his kiss.

After they were seated and placed their orders, he found himself staring into her eyes thoughtfully. Better to wait until after the champagne arrives.

“What are you thinking?”

“I was trying to decide which question to hit you with first,” he admitted.

“Ask away, but my turn’s coming.”

“What do you do for a living, Verity? I suspect you don’t spend your time working for Sage at her nightclub.”

Her eyes danced wickedly. “I write romance novels. Naughty little things read by women whose men don’t pay their needs much attention, I suspect.”

“How naughty?”

“I’ll give you one to read and you can decide for yourself. How about you? What do you do that lets you stay out so late two nights in a row? Or did you skip work today?”

“Not that you didn’t do your best to wear me out, but I did go to work, thank you very much.  I play third base for the Braves, the pro baseball team in town. Had an excellent day at work, too, thanks to you. That’s what we’re celebrating, by the way.”

They paused as the waiter brought the champagne he’d ordered. Touching the rim of his flute to her, he made a toast. “To my lucky charm.”

“Luck is usually just a matter of believing in oneself.”

Spoken like one who doesn’t know how the baseball gods can bring a man to his knees. “Verity, if I get two hits tomorrow night, or even one, we’ll have this talk again. Back to my list of questions. Why is it your sisters are named after herbs, but you have such an unusual name?”  He wanted to know everything about her.

She rolled her eyes. “My middle name is Lavender, and their first names are mouthfuls.  Our father has a wicked sense of humor.”

She neither looked nor sounded amused. “What’s funny about it? They’re all pretty names, unusual, but pretty. Is Verity a family name?”

She sighed and set her glass back on the table. “Verity isn’t quite my name, but its close enough.  It’s actually Veritas, which is Latin for truth. Lavender is an herb associated with virtue, so my name means ‘Truth and virtue’.  Sage’s full name is Veneratio Sage, with her first name translating to Honor and sage a symbol for longevity, so it means roughly ‘Long life through honor’.  Rose got stuck with Sanctimonia, meaning ‘purity’ and rosemary is traditionally thought to mean ‘remembrance’, giving her name the meaning of ‘purity will be remembered’. We used to say she needed a long memory to recall hers.”

He chuckled, and then asked, “So, what’s your father do? Is he some kind of history professor?”

“Something like that. I dabble names and meanings. Did you know your name means ‘Who is like God?’ Saint Michael, according to Hebrew tradition, was one of the seven archangels of Heaven. He’s considered to be the patron saint of soldiers, since Saint Michael is mentioned in Revelations as the leader of Heaven’s armies. Interesting that you are what might be seen as a gladiator. The name has been used by many emperors and rulers throughout history.  Is it a name used often in your family tree?”

“Well, yes, now that you mention it.  Both my father and grandfather are named Michael.”

Wicked violet eyes flashed, and a seductive smile played on her lips. She tilted her head to one side. “So, can I call you Trey? Are you a Third?”

He shot her a glance and she laughed merrily, reading the guilt on his face, no doubt.“Trey it is,” she said through laughter.

“You call me Trey and I’ll spank you. There’s a bit of truth for you.”

“Promises, promises, Trey. How did that ointment work?  Did you try it?”

“You know what?  My tattoo hasn’t itched a bit today. I think it’s healed.  You should sell that stuff.”

“How do you know I don’t?”

            “How did that work, having two half-sisters the same age as you? Did you fight or get along?” He read the flash of surprise in her eyes. “Rosemary explained about your uh…unique family situation.”

Her gaze dropped to the table and she fiddled with her napkin. When she raised her eyes, he saw defiance and pain. “It doesn’t seem to bother them much.”

“But it bothers you?” He was damn sorry he’d brought it up, but needed to find a way to comfort her. He didn’t see a way to do that until he understood the situation better.

“Not anymore.”

“But it used to?” He persisted, taking her hand in his so she’d stop messing with the napkin. The linen square was twisted in knots. The suspicion she felt the same way inside gnawed guilty holes in him. “We can change the subject if you like, but I want to get to know you better.  A lot better.”

Her gaze was shuttered now.  If she was upset, she’d mastered the emotions on her face. He didn’t like the thought she’d shut him out so quickly. “Why? What makes you think knowing about my freak show of a family tells you anything about me?”

“Because knowing about my family tells you everything there is to know about me, everything important anyway,” he explained. “It doesn’t mean I’m like them. It means I look at things the way I do because of them. Everybody does. But I kind of resent the fact you seem to think I’m going to judge you for their sins.”

To his surprise and relief, he felt her stiff fingers relax. “I listen to other people talk about their families, and it makes me so jealous sometimes. I bet I can guess what yours is like. You have two parents who care about each other. They’re probably still together. You know beyond the shadow of a doubt, they care about you. And you can’t fathom any different situation, not really. Heck, you might even be an only child.”

            Her accurate assessment stunned him. “How did you know that?”

            “It’s not so hard, really.  I know you called me from Sage’s office. That means you saw the portrait. You said Rose explained that we’re exactly the same age, and from the look on your face, the idea was so foreign to you, you keep asking me questions even though you can tell family history’s a sore spot for me.” He wanted to interrupt, but she hurried to explain. “You’re intelligent and that means you’re curious. I’m a curious person myself. I dislike people whose curiosity is easily satisfied.  But how hard is it to guess you have a normal family somewhere, especially when you say they shaped you and you make their example sound like a good thing?  You’re used to getting your way, so that makes me think you’re an only child. I can tell by the look on your face you wish you hadn’t brought the subject up, but you can’t let it go. I assume that means you wish you had siblings.”

“Psychology major?” he guessed. “I’m impressed. I am an only child and yes, my parents are still together. I have an adopted sister, but I was in high school before she came to live with us. My parents are both the intellectual type, and even though I took another path after college, I was taught the only wrong question is the one you don’t ask.” Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingers. “We can change the subject. I can wait. But I can tell you right now, I don’t think I’ll stop until I know everything there is to know about you, Vee.”

There was both defiance and hope in her eyes. “What if those answers you seek only make you want to run as far and as fast as you can and never look back?”

He grinned, hoping she’d forgive him. She needs reassurance, not confrontation. He was fascinated by this woman, and she was going to know it if it took his last breath. Every one of his senses screamed for him to stake a claim. “All I see is me running toward you. After the game tonight, all I could think about was being with you again. That’s a lie, as soon as I left this morning all I could think of was seeing you again. And not that the sex wasn’t incredible—because it was and you know it—I don’t think that’s going to be enough for me. I see intelligence when other men probably don’t look past the gorgeous face. I see a strong, independent woman who stimulates things besides my cock. And I gotta tell you, if you told me you used to be a man, I don’t think it would matter. Because the most amazing thing of all is that you have the just plain guts to reach out and take what you want, and what you wanted was me.  To be on the receiving end of that kind of self-assurance is overwhelming and I’m not easily overwhelmed.”

“It was just sex.”

He shook his head. “You know better. You’re building a wall right this minute. You believe my normal family life will make me think you’re like your father somehow? Because that’s ridiculous.”

Her expression tightened. “You’re right about that much. I’m nothing like him.”

“You aren’t denying building that wall. Admit right this minute, last night was more than just sex or I’m going to cause a scene.”

She laughed. “You’re bluffing. You aren’t the scene type. Too laid back.”

Mike saw the challenge in her eyes as she relaxed in her seat, certain she was right. He’d never backed down from a challenge in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. He slowly stood, watching her expression become wary, but she didn’t speak. Time to get under that cocky attitude.  “Excuse me.” He raised his voice, looking over her head. “I hate to interrupt everyone’s meal, but I could use a little help here, folks.”

People turned to stare. She yanked her hand from his, crossing her arms over her chest. Her cheeks showed no sign of embarrassment, and her eyes still held a challenge. Of course, she had no idea he was used to being in the spotlight. And liked it. As the small restaurant came to a virtual standstill, he pressed his advantage, indicating her with a sweep of his hand. “Thanks, I’ll be brief. What I need you folks to do, is help me convince this lovely woman I might actually be a decent guy.  I know all you ladies have had your heart broken at some point, but do I look like that guy? How about a little trust?  Guys have it tough, you know?  We get to pay for the sins of every idiot that ever hurt you, right guys?”

Whistles, groans and claps filled the air. He grinned, letting the room grow quiet again before leaning over with both hands pressed against the table. His eyes were locked on hers, but he addressed the room. “The guys are with me, but you ladies are holding back.  Let her know she should take a chance on me, please?  I sure could use a little help.”

Verity’s mouth fell open when women began calling out encouragement. Shouts of ‘go for it’ and ‘take a chance’ and more than one ‘I will if she won’t’ rang out.

The noise grew louder, and she seemed to realize everyone expected some indication of acceptance on her part. She pushed her chair back and put her own hands on the table. The look in her eyes made his gut clench. “Be careful what you ask for, Trey.” Every millimeter she leaned closer made his heart do another somersault. She touched her lips to his, to the sound of cheers and wolf whistles.

Mike raised his hands for silence as she flopped into her seat. “Appreciate the help, folks.  Sorry for the interruption, but you’ve restored my faith in mankind. And womankind,” he hastened to add. “Mostly womankind.”

Laughter erupted, but the small restaurant returned to normal quickly. He sat down, looking at her with a mixture of stubbornness and tenderness she didn’t quite understand.  “Never dare me where you’re concerned, Verity. I don’t think I’m rational about you. I dreamed about you before we met.”

“Maybe you’re just irrational, period,” she suggested. “Escaped mental patient, perhaps?”

He pretended to glare.  “Don’t make me stand up again.” He half-rose from his seat and she hurried to put her hand on his arm.

“Okay, I get it. You’re used to getting your way.” Her brows drew together, but he thought he saw a ghost of a smile. “So what do you want to know?”

“For starters, I want to know why you don’t think you’re worth making a fuss over.”

The smile faded. Any trace of amusement disappeared from her eyes. He wished he’d let the topic drop. She picked a spot over his shoulder to look at and her voice was barely audible. “Look, this might not make any sense to you, but where I come from, I’m not. Worth making a fuss over, that is.”

To be continued...

Thanks for dropping in! 

Monday Night Bleacher Report & Guarding the Line Chapter 8

Despite the fact the Braves still lead the Nationals by a few games to occupy top spot in the division, I hope they make some serious moves before the trading deadline, because May sucked. Hopefully they'll get some help in the bullpen and possibly free up a lot of money by trading Uggla and BJ. Hate to say it, but after their performances so far this year it might do Hayward and Hudson some good in the minors for a little while. And is it just me, or does Freddie look like he's phoning it in?

~Sincerely, Worried Fan in SC

Let's hunt down Mike and Verity after their hot night in the 'real Obsidian VIP lounge'. At this point, I know more about where their story is heading than I do my favorite baseball team, and that ain't saying much for Atlanta.

Zipping up his jeans, Mike gazed at Verity’s sleeping form. The colorful tattoo covered her far better than the dark sheets, but he feared he’d wake her if he pulled them over her. Even wildcats needed their rest, and if she woke, he knew he’d stay for another round. She’d gotten him hard more times than he thought possible and he had a night game. Better go now while his legs could still hold him. Hopefully, the sated feeling suffusing his body would carry over to the game. Baseball was best played loose and, compared to how he felt now, he’d been wound far too tight. Quickly, he got into his shoes, unable to resist clawing at the half-healed design Thane had put on his arm. The itch reminded him to snag the small jar of ointment off the nightstand.

She swore she made he fragrant ointment herself. He'd try anything that might speed the healing process and stop the damn tattoo from itching. Like his mother, Vee was into all that New Age stuff, telling him to wear certain crystals and offering herbal remedies. Her tat was completely healed, while his had hit the annoying stage. Recalling the hour it’d taken him to trace the elaborate design on her back with his tongue made his lip tingle, a sensation that unbelievably  echoed in his cock, but he eased the curtains around the alcove closed and strode resolutely to the elevator.

The minute the door slid open on the lower floor, the amused expression in a pair of green eyes halted his late-morning walk of shame. Across from the elevator, visible through an open office door, the twin sat behind a desk. But, if they’re twins, wouldn’t their hair be the same color? Not to mention their eyes? Fraternal twins? He didn’t recall much from high school Biology. He eyed the deep blue shine on the sister’s glossy black short cut. Dyed. Had to be.

“Need help getting out of here?”  This time of day, Mike hadn’t expected to see anyone in the nightclub. He stepped off the elevator and paused at the door of the office, shoving the small jar into his pants pocket. Wracking his memory for this woman’s name turned up a blank. "Actually, I was wondering about that.”

Her mouth looked the same, yet her smile seemed different than Vee’s. “Would you like a cup of coffee before you go? I have a fresh pot.”

The vivid interest in her eyes made him uncomfortable. He felt like he was being considered for lunch meat by some predator. Those eyes looked like she’d knocked the bottoms out of Sprite bottles to make contact lenses. “No, thanks, but I’m not sure how to get out of here.” He watched warily when she stood, moving from behind the desk and slinking toward him, her movement all swaying hips and jiggling breasts. The way she brushed the back of her hand across his groin when she passed sent his spidey sense tingling.

“I’ll let you out, of course. Is my sister awake?”  He wondered if this one had stayed overnight or come in early to check on the little love nest upstairs. She turned in the direction opposite from the VIP bar and main nightclub.

“No, I closed the drapes. I think she’s down for the count.” He felt the woman was waiting to hear something else from him, but she pulled to a stop in front of a door only a few feet down the corridor from the elevator.  He felt awkward but figured he needed to say something. “Uh, thanks a lot for letting her off work last night, and for use of the apartment. I was afraid for a minute, out on the patio, I’d gotten her into trouble.”

Amusement reappeared on her face. “Never, she’s my sister. Although, I must admit, finding you two out there was quite a shock. Vee’s always so… controlled. Last night is hardly her style.” Abruptly, she changed the subject. “You don’t have a membership, do you?  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“My friend has one. Last night was my first time here. I liked it. You have a great place.”  He expected a sales pitch. He could get a complimentary membership if he asked, most likely, since some clubs liked having sports figures in their place, but he wanted to get out of here.

“Thank you.” Her catlike eyes narrowed. “Who’s your friend?”

“Victor Montalvo. He’s our catcher.”

“What does he catch?”

Suppressing a groan, he peered hopefully over her shoulder at the door. “Baseballs. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go throw some at him.”

She leaned on the bar to open the heavy fire door. He could see a corridor with another door at the far end, but felt annoyed that she’d positioned her body so he had to touch her again to get past. “This opens onto the employee parking. There’s an elevator that will take you to street level or any other floor of the parking garage, but you’ll have to go down one flight of steps to get to it.” She held up something resembling a poker chip, but he'd have sworn her hands had been empty moments before. “Here’s a parking token, in case you used the garage. Come back and see me sometime, Mike. Just ask for me at the door. Goodbye, for now.”  She pressed the token into his hand and slid the palm of her other hand down his arm. Her nails raked the hair on his forearm.  He stepped into the corridor quickly, uninterested in the obvious come-on.

Once out the second door, he saw only two cars on the vast employee deck.  One was a sleek Jaguar, parked right by the door. That had to belong to the sister. The other was parked farther from the door. He had to walk past to reach the stairs. He  made a lap around the vehicle, noting the custom black powder coated rims, the expensive racing tires, the manual transmission, the custom paint job done in flat black, with racing stripes denoted only by their gloss. The custom license tag was cute, too, VSPONY. Her ride wasn’t something she paid for tending bar part-time for her sister. Every imaginable expensive car could be found in the player’s parking lot at Turner Field. This model Mustang cost about a hundred grand. 

Still thinking about the intriguing blonde, he loped toward the stairs. Nothing about either the car or the woman seemed controlled to him. She’d been pure, passionate heat. And, God, she said the sexiest, dirtiest things, too. It’d been her idea to go outside on the large deck on the roof and fuck against the railing overlooking the city. It'd be a while before he forgot that sexy voice urging him on as he took her from behind. Jogging down the stairs, he could still feel all that hair wrapped around his fist.  Knowing that anyone on the street below could hear them, or anyone looking out from one of the surrounding office buildings could see them, only made the encounter hotter, more surreal.

Something stabbed his hip, interrupting his reverie. He worked the little jar free from his jeans, pausing at the foot of the stairs to rub his fingers over the faceted amethyst-colored plastic jewel on the lid. The bauble matched her eyes. In the bright light of day, he had to admit, that color wasn’t exactly normal, either. Contacts had to be the explanation, he decided, having little trouble finding his car on the deserted deck. Unlocking the door, he felt sure the sisters were into wild-ass colored contact lenses.

But, damn, if last night hadn’t changed his luck, he was in for a long season. He dropped the little jar into the cup holder in his console and cranked the car.

He was still thinking about her as he regretfully showered her scent off his skin, tired yet strangely exhilarated. He wished he’d asked for her number. At least he knew how to find her sister, or one of the other employees probably had her number. He’d find her again, that was for sure, if he had to threaten to break Thane’s arm to get the tattoo artist to cough up her digits. The former motorcycle gang member was much less intimidating than what's-her-name. 

*****

When Vee opened her eyes, it took a moment to recall where she was. Damn, still at Obsidian. She stretched, luxuriating in the silky feel of the sheets against her skin and enjoying feeling tender in all the right places.  The whisper of the elevator door caused her to freeze.  Was he just leaving or had he come back? 

Crawling to the end of the bed, she peeked through the curtain to see Sage holding her shirt in one hand, her pants in the other. “Bring those over here,” she ordered with a chuckle.

Sage flashed a wicked grin. “Ah, you’re up. Sorry if I woke you, but I was just bringing you something from the kitchen. From the looks of him, you’re bound to be starved.” Vee made sure she kept the curtains around her neck when she reached out to snatch her clothes.

Yanking the top over her head, she realized she had no idea where her panties were. A shower would’ve been nice, but she definitely wasn’t risking one with Sage in the apartment. “Speaking of eating, what did you bring?” she called through the curtain.

She barely listened to the reply, but trying to find black underwear among black sheets in a room that was half-dark was proving futile. “A huge bowl of boiled shrimp, one of fruit, and some cold pasta salad. The usual stuff from the buffet, but it’s fresh and we’ve changed the recipes since you’re tried any of this. I thought we could eat and chat a bit if you were awake.  It’s nearly two.  He must have been as good as he looked.”

She gave up on the underwear, jerking her pants on quickly. “Marked not from birth but by a gifted hand, let not my blood see on my skin the decoration of man.” Hurry, hurry, she begged the Goddess. Sage’s muffled steps were coming toward the bed again. Any second now, she feared her sister would yank those curtains back before the spell could conceal her tattoo. An hour seemed to pass until she could twist her head and see nothing on her shoulder. Heart pounding, she pulled the curtains aside, only to find Sage standing right in front of her.

 Sage wrinkled her nose. “You need a shower, girl. You smell like he did—ripe.”

Vee felt her eyes widen. “You saw him this morning?”

“Uh, honey, it was almost afternoon when I saw him. I was doing the books when he came down. That was more than an hour ago.”

Vee gave her sister a hard look, to let her know she didn’t plan on sharing the details of her evening. Whatever teasing Sage had in mind, Vee had her own agenda.

She stepped around her sister, heading for the bar and the food, filling her plate before sitting on a bar stool. Sage did the same, apparently content to eat before beginning her inquisition. She relaxed too soon. “So, I didn’t see any phone numbers lying around, unless it’s on one of the nightstands. Are you planning to see him again?”

Cursing herself for giving her sister home field advantage, Vee tried not to think about whether or not he’d flushed all the condoms, realizing too late what Sage had spent the time doing while she’d been hurrying into her clothes. She gave the counter a furtive glace as well, mortified suddenly as she remembered where the evening had begun. “I haven’t decided yet. I might, but only if we can use this place again.”

“Of course you can. What do you want to know about him?”

Verity dropped the shrimp in her hand and stared at her sister in complete horror. “You did not check him out. Tell me you didn’t.”

“All I did was ask who he’d come in with. I looked up the member and asked a couple of discrete questions of a few staff, that’s all.”

“Don’t tell me anything. I didn’t ask him anything and I’m not sure I want to know anything. It was one night, no questions asked.  You should be familiar with the concept.” She gave Sage a warning glare.

“Fine, I’ll keep what I learned to myself.”

“Sage, I said I didn’t want to know.”

“And when he shows up again looking for you? What do I tell him then?”

Intuition told Vee there was something else going on. “You’re interested in him?” she guessed.

“Not if you say hands off.  But you should be glad you saw him first.”

Vee hadn’t had time to think about whether or not she wanted to see the man again, but her sister’s pushing was making her angry. Sage had to feel every man in the world wanted her. Besides, she could find him without her sister’s help, if she wanted, as Sage well knew. “Tell you what, Sage. If you can get him up here, you can have him. Since Avery’s back, it’s not like I’ll be around. What I’d rather talk about are the things I found in this kitchen. Don’t even try to play me.” She gave her sister a hard look, the catty behavior wiping way any guilt she might feel for not revealing her visit from the Triscaro.

Sage put on her best innocent look. “I let Rosemary use the place last week. Nobody can blame me for what she does, now can they?  Besides, this damn suspension has to end soon.”

Vee shoved off her stool, happy when it fell over, in spite of the sound-absorbing rubber flooring. Anger spoiled her appetite. “Sage, you have no idea who is watching us, or when. And why didn’t you mention our sister was in town? Never mind that. Back to what we were discussing. You need to start thinking before you act. I swear, you two are just like Him, aren’t you?  Too arrogant for your own good.  Playing fast and loose with your suspension might just get you a more serious punishment, do you ever think of that?” Or me. You never think of anyone but yourself.

“Don’t use that tone. Rosemary can visit if she wants. Besides, if you’d minded your own business, I wouldn’t be suspended and you wouldn’t have been….”

  “I’m gone, Sage. Thanks for lunch. When you see Rosemary, tell her I said hello, why don’t you?” She didn’t bother with the elevator, simply visualizing her car. It was stifling inside the vehicle.

Vee gunned the Mustang through the light afternoon traffic, trying to recapture the way she’d felt just before she’d realized Sage was in the apartment. The whole reason for taking the damn key from her sister had been to relax. Nothing like sex under a nearly full moon to help a woman center herself.  She’d been lying there wondering if he would show back up at Obsidian tonight, looking for her.  Not that she planned to be there, of course, but since he knew Sage had some authority, he could get security to call Sage, and Sage, in turn would call Vee.  Except Sage had a good look at him this morning, and now she wanted the damn guy.  She should have just asked him to meet her, but she’d decided to let him work for something, at least.

Damn Sage for screwing with that. Sage wouldn’t be able to resist making a pass at the guy, and men weren’t known for being selective. For all Vee knew, he preferred brunettes with green eyes. Hell. If Rosemary was around, he could have a blue-eyed red head. Okay, that wasn’t fair. Rosemary’s not like Sage.

  She pulled up in front of her detached garage and waited impatiently for the door to lift. Once parked, she sprang out of the car and hurried into the house, heading for a long bath. Then she planned to relax with a decent bottle of wine, a sandwich, and a jigsaw puzzle before pulling out her crystals. They’d been dark for too long.

She skidded to a stop as she saw the figure waiting in her living room. Her heart slammed into her sternum.

To be continued...

 Be sure and follow me over to razz my fellow romance author Jennifer Simpkins about her Yankees, she loves that. Seriously, she does. 

Thanks for dropping in. :)

Guarding the Line ~ Chapter 4

Big week. The Braves swept the Nationals and are still firmly perched atop the NL East. I have re-edited Wildly Inappropriate and the story will be available again by the end of the week. And...my daughter's having a girl!

Six days later, Verity Alexander studied her reflection in her vanity mirror. The tattoo had been worth every penny, she decided.  Things were looking up all the way around. Her editor had salivated over the outline and first three chapters of the new story. And, she’d found the ring. Not that the ring was necessarily a good thing. She was still trying to get a reading on that. Her crystals had remained stubbornly mute, as had the gazing ball. She hoped the problem was on her end. a lack of use. With the Watchers in her home, she hadn’t been willing to open her mind to her gift often. The less the Triscaro knew about her, the better.

The sound of the phone interrupted her musing. She grabbed for the phone with one hand and a hand mirror with the other, still studying the tattoo. “Hello?”

“Vee, it’s Sage. I need a favor, please, please, please. You know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.”

“You want me to bartend tonight?” Vee guessed. Sage wouldn’t be begging otherwise.

“That damn Garrity. You were right about him, I caught him stealing last night and fired his ass, but I can’t find another bartender and get them trained overnight. I need you for a week, maybe more because Avery’s in Jamaica. Please, Vee,” Sage wheedled. 

Verity felt the same tangle of feelings she always had toward Sage. Love and exasperation. “I’ll help you, but I’m not splitting my tips.”

“No problem, I’ll kick in your percentage. Be here by nine? The door code’s changed.  7776. Gate code is still the same.”

Vee repeated the number that unlocked the employee entrance door. “For a minute there, I thought you were going patriotic.”

“Huh?”

She swallowed her sigh. Sage lived in the moment. And, she’d never been forced to attend school with humans and learn American History the way Verity had until she’d turned twelve. “See you at nine.”

 “I’ll get somebody to prep your bar.” Verity disconnected the call before Sage guilted her into coming in earlier to slice up fruit.

Vee stood in the staff locker room, trying to untangle the strings of jet beads dangling from the hair comb in her hand.  Sage insisted that female staff wear one of two approved hair ornaments, and Vee wasn’t about to use the roaring twenties style headband with feathers.  She could just imagine pieces of the stringy black-dyed ostrich feather landing in someone’s drink as she worked. When the final two strands of beads came loose, she gave her hips a little shake in celebration.

She brushed her hair away from her face, and caught the two strands above each ear, securing them behind her head with the comb, letting the rest fall free down her back.

Glancing at her watch, she realized she needed to get to her post. She gave herself a final once-over in the mirror, turning to look over her shoulder as best she could. The sign on the mirror reminded her to wash her hands. Out of habit, she tucked the small tin of healing ointment into her front pocket before slamming the locker closed, though the ointment had worked so well she doubted she’d need it tonight. The tattoo hadn’t itched the way Thane assured her it would.

Time to go to work.  The VIP bar opened at nine. She prayed someone had actually been assigned to do the prep.

She entered the quiet room and quickly went to work, logging into the computerized register. She occupied herself by setting up the bar back the way she liked it, and checking to be sure every surface sparkled as customers started drifting in. 

Soon, she was busy, too busy to notice when her sister appeared behind the bar.

“Vee, you saved my life.”

Again, Vee thought silently, giving Sage a quick hug. “Don’t mention it. The tips have been fantastic. Don’t you have better things to do than supervise me?  And,”—she shoved her sister aside playfully—“you’re in my way. Oh, and ask somebody to haul up a new keg of Budweiser, would you? I was ashamed to sell the last beer I tried to pour; it was almost pure foam, so I’ve been giving the guy free Bud Light.” She nodded in the direction of the customer who wanted that brand.

Few things annoyed Sage more than her staff giving away profits, Verity knew, hiding her grin. “You could’ve paged somebody,” her half-sister grumbled.

“Like I have time to figure out that complicated intercom system?” Vee plunked the six glasses onto a tray. Brushing past Sage, she delivered the order to the group of eight seated at the long bar.

Customers piled into the bar and Vee once again lost herself in the simple task of filling drink orders, keeping the long bar as sparkling as possible, and washing up glasses. The music seemed to grow louder, if  possible, but she found herself enjoying the band, going so far as to dance a bit as she poured shot after shot of alcohol into glasses, and crafted the elaborate drinks Obsidian featured.

Stacking her tray full of ornate drinks, she spun and felt her elbow connect with the heavy gallon jar of maraschino cherries. A full-blooded adorii could have used her powers to slide the fruit to safety. All Verity could do was clutch the tray of drinks and watch the sticky mess explode. Cherries bounced and rolled everywhere at her feet and the juice splashed everything from her shoes to her elbows. Tips had been good, but not when she deducted the cost of her leather pants. Dammit.

*****

Mike Reardon entered the VIP bar, hoping to find a spot quieter than the crowed main room. The music thrummed painfully in his temples and he wished like hell he hadn’t agreed to come out with his teammates. All he wanted was a quiet place to have a beer and lick his wounds. His run of inexplicable errors was killing him. He needed something to change his luck. Victor and Paulo insisted what he needed was to get laid, so they’d dragged him here. Not that he was in the mood for talking, much less trying to pick up a woman. All evening, his teammates talked about nothing but baseball, a topic he was sick of at the moment.

All the tables in the  room were full, but the long bar itself was empty. He didn’t see a bartender as he slid into a seat. Suddenly, a head popped up, followed by the rest of a delicious female form. Her back was to him, but Mike stared in disbelief at the reflection of the woman’s face in the mirror behind the bar. She looked like the woman he’d seen at Thane’s, the gorgeous, nearly-nude woman, getting an enormous tattoo. She wore a long-sleeved shirt so he couldn’t be sure. The bar was too dim to tell if the eyes were the same unusual color as those belonging to the girl stretched out in Thane’s chair.

She suddenly fired a towel at the sink, grabbed a new one, shoved it under running water, wrung it out, and disappeared once more.

His headache receded. He relaxed in his seat, patiently waiting for her to surface.

The blonde head popped up a few moments later, her back still to him. He couldn’t take his eyes off her reflection in the mirror. Suddenly, she whirled.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were waiting. What would you like?”

You. “Bud draft, please.”

She chuckled, but she swiped at her pants, eyes still lowered. Fine by him, he’d just watch while she fussed with the tight black leather pants. But he wanted a look at her eyes.

“That keg is empty. I’ve been waiting on a replacement all night. But,” she continued, leaning forward and lowering her voice and finally raising her eyes to his face, “the good news is, I’m giving away shots out of spite for being ignored.  Interested?”

Oh, he was interested, all right. Those eyes were definitely lavender. The view down the snug top was definitely interesting. “Sure, that sounds fine.” Mike forced the words past a suddenly-dry throat. She didn’t recognize him, apparently. And he was having trouble talking. Maybe because he’d seen her before, and not just at Thane’s. It hadn’t hit him until after he’d left the tattoo parlor, but he’d actually been seeing this face for a long time.

Come with me now to see what the other Baseball Babes, Jennifer Simpkins and Kathleen Grieve have in store for us today. Feel free to post anti-Yankee sentiments on Jennifer's blog post--she'll totally understand :D

Unforgettable ~ Six Sentence Sunday #sixsunday

Six more sentences from Soft Sounds of Pleasure.

Colton recalls meeting Lila for the first time, a decade before.

And then, she'd lifted the hem of that damn t-shirt and wiped the sweat from her face, revealing the creamy bottoms of her generous breasts, as well as a firm, tanned tummy, all shimmering with a light sheen of sweat. Cut-off jeans had been barely hanging onto her slim hips. Colton had been riveted by the sight as a single bead of moisture slipped from between those breasts, meandering down her tummy to pool in her belly button. And he'd come, just like that. 

Some nights he jerked off to that memory. After ten years, it still possessed the power to make him come. 

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