Guarding the Line Chapter 9 ~ Monday Night Bleacher Report

Atlanta's still parked atop the National League East by 6.5 games. Things look so good for the Braves right now, I don't wanna jinx things by commenting, so enjoy this quote from one of my all-time favorite Braves, Hammerin' Hank Aaron, instead:

     “Well, it took me 17 years to get 3,000 hits in baseball, and I did it in one afternoon on the golf course.” 




Speaking of jinxes, here's the end of Guarding the Line, Chapter 8. Verity has returned home after a night spent with Michael, to find an unwanted guest.  A double-long post this week, to make up for being a slack-ass recently. <grin> In my defense, it's damn hard to write when half your keyboard doesn't work, but I finally found a Bluetooth model I love, after buying and returning a few. Posting Chapter 9 as well, to make up for having no post last week.

“Have you heard of e-mail?  Telephones even?  Dropping in is so last century.”  Vee couldn’t decide what made her angrier, the fact her mother had dropped by unannounced, or that Adrienne had taken the liberty of finishing her damned jigsaw puzzle while she waited.  The huge eggshell stood on its wide end on the table, completely reassembled, though she’d broken it in hundreds of pieces and had just begun to sort them out on the table.

“Verity Lavender, where on earth have you been?  I’ve been here since dawn.”

Just fucking wonderful. No telling what she snooped into. Vee took a deep breath to prepare for the tirade she knew would be next. “I was at Obsidian last night.  Sage needed a bartender.”

Her mother rose to her feet, swaying dramatically, hands clasped to her throat. Such a drama queen. If Vee hadn’t been so pissed off, she’d have laughed aloud.

“After all the trouble that little bitch got you in—twice—I’ll never understand why you lift a finger to do anything for her.”

Still in a temper after her confrontation with Sage, the last thing she wanted was to defend her sister to her mother. But if Adrienne had waited half the night, she clearly had nowhere to be. Better help her with that. “So, you came just to visit?  You’re not here to check and see if I found your ring yet?  You’re over Him now?  You hold what Sage did against her, even knowing he’s done worse?  Grow up, Mother.”

Adrienne flung out her arms. Verity almost peered around, looking for the director. She felt stuck in a bad soap opera. “If I have the ring, I can help him, Verity.  For the sake of the Goddess, he’s your father.  It’s in the prophesy.”

If she lived to be three thousand, Verity was never going to understand why women put themselves through the things they did for an unfaithful man.  And when was the last time a prophesy came to pass?

“He uses people, Mother.  He uses you, he uses Sage, and he uses Rosemary. He uses their mothers. He uses all his other women as well.” That last sentence was going too far, since she had no proof there were other women, but, damn it, she was tired of listening to this crap. 

“Don’t you see ? If you’d been the one helping him instead of Sage, he wouldn’t be where he is now? That idiot should be barred from practice for eternity. If you meant to get involved, why not help Him in the first place?”

Her mother had no use for Sage or Rosemary, but she still expected Vee to forgive the father that had betrayed them all in so many ways. 

Slinging her purse at a chair, she battled to keep her tone even.“Wasted words, Mother. We’ve been through this many times. Sage needed help at the club last night. Bartending is not a big deal. I stayed overnight at the apartment. Which brings us to why you’re here?”

“For the ring, of course. Have you found it yet? Time is of the essence.”

Her heart leaped into her throat, but she didn’t see any sign her mother knew she’d found the ring. No, if Adrienne thought she had, she’d have turned up sooner, or gone to Obsidian and made a scene. Thank the Goddess I left that damn thing in the car. Now that she knew what kind of ring Adrienne had been on about, her mother’s drama made more sense. This had nothing to do with a prophecy and everything to do with Adrienne wanting to slap that fidelis ring around Rex Hin’s—yeah, anyway. Glaring at her mother, she demanded, “Why is time of the essence?”

“Verity, I need that ring. You must find it, and soon. I’ll keep checking with you, dear.  Now, give me a kiss and I’ll get out of your way.”

And, with the kiss came knowledge she’d rather her mother didn’t have. Adrienne’s brows went up and a knowing smile curved her lips. “Verity, darling, a man?  Now that you’re back in circulation, I’ll tell Stone.  He’s been asking about you, you know.”

Fabulous. This was going from bad to worse. “Good-bye, Mother.” 

Verity prepared herself for a dramatic exit, and wasn’t disappointed when her mother threw open her front door and turned into a brightly-colored parrot.

“I guess a seagull is just not you?” Heaving the front door with all her strength, Verity took satisfaction from the loud bang and wrenched the lock. The thick bolt shot home, not that a lock was worth a damn at keeping her family at bay. What she needed was an ogre. Or a dragon. But the pet food bills….

She stalked to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of wine. Of course, the wine opener evaded her. What could it hurt? “Bottle mine, share your contents divine and give me access to the fruits of the vine.” The cork began turning, rising at a sedate pace. Verity hoped no vineyard worker tripped and stubbed his toe on a rock…or worse, due to her impatience.

She believed the natural world found ways to get even when its laws were circumvented and didn’t care who paid the price. Her views were akin to those of Buddhists who refuse to kill any living thing, and not widely shared by either side of her family tree, but Verity respected the power of her magic. It made sense that such a force could have a backlash, like any other kind of power.  

She stripped off ripping off her clothes and raced up the stairs. Opening the French doors leading off her bedroom, she plopped onto the chaise lounge on her balcony and tipped the bottle to her lips, still fuming. She was the family doormat. Part of the reason was her half-breed status, but she suspected the others took advantage of her beliefs, sensing she’d never turn her magic on them.  The wine fueled her anger even as it relaxed her deliciously sore limbs.

 By the time she reached the bottom of the bottle, her decision had been made, or one of them anyway. If Sage kept that damn man for herself, she was going to turn her into whatever it was parrots ate, just to see if the Fates would fuck with somebody besides herself for a change.

Mike stood in the shower, enjoying the feel of the hot water pummeling the back of his neck. He rolled his neck and shoulder muscles, knowing the tightness he’d been battling for the last several days was gone. The last trace of tension disappeared the minute his bat connected for a double in the fourth inning, clearing the bases and tying the game. Just like that, his slump was over.  His home run in the eighth to put the team ahead had been icing on the cake. He hadn’t been able to resist giving his manager a look of smug satisfaction. When he’d gotten to the field today, Wade told him he wasn’t in the evening’s lineup. Mike had to argue hotly to get into the game.

This was why he played, why everybody played.  You lived for those moments when you beat the odds, overcame the physics, the lights, the noise from the crowd, your own tension and past failures.  His teammates were talking about going out to celebrate. In the midst of the argument about where they were headed, he got a wink and a nudge from Victor.  The big lug actually looked like he knew some kind of secret.

“What?” Moving past the stocky catcher, he yanked open his locker. “Ouch! Shit!” The cut was little more than a scratch, but blood welled in his palm.

Victor held out a box of the stick-on bandages he wrapped around his fingers so the pitchers could see when he flashed the signs between his thighs. “Dude, I told you. That little bartender. She changed your luck, right?”

And just like that, Mike knew who he wanted to celebrate with. Waving away the band-aids, he grinned, but didn’t give the details his buddy was obviously expecting. “Maybe I was just due.” Spying the small jar of ointment reminded him to baste his tat, and by the time he’d rubbed the thin coat of gel into his arm, the scratch was barely visible. He gave the two reporters stalking the room their expected sound bites while he dressed, then dashed out the clubhouse door.

Luckily, the guy on the door at Obsidian turned out to be a fan. The overgrown hunk of beef was named Eldon. The guy sported a shaved, ebony head and muscles that had to come from steroids, but he recognized Mike, and offered to let him in without a membership, but since he was planning to ask the owner for a favor, Mike didn’t think sneaking in was the way to get on the sister’s good side. It took Eldon a few heartbeats to figure out who Mike needed to see.  Mike tried not to exhale too loudly, or talk too fast. “Dude, her name’s Sage.  Five-seven, five-eight, good figure, brunette, green eyes. Has a smoking hot sister named Vee, looks a lot like her, except blonde, who bartended the other night in the VIP lounge?” Two thick creases appeared between Eldon’s blank brown eyes. Eldon thought his request over for so long, Mike wondered if the guy was doing downers, too. “Signs your paycheck?”

  Finally, the bulb in Eldon’s mental closet flickered. “Oh, you mean Miz Alexander, the owner. Only her sisters are allowed to call her Sage.”

He’d played ball with guys like Eldon, thick slabs of beef with air for brains. Clapping the man on the shoulder, Mike covered his vexation with a big smile, as though Eldon had discovered the cure for cancer. “Yes! That’s exactly right. My bad, dude. Miss Alexander is the person I need you to call her for me, Eldon. Thanks.”

When Sage appeared, Mike wondered momentarily whether Eldon might be Catholic, because the guy looked like he was going to hit his knees and genuflect. Sage waved Mike in immediately. “That didn’t take long. We might have to see about getting you a membership card.” She gave him a heated look, running her hand from the part on her hair, lingering over the curves accentuated by a cropped silver top and finally let her palm rest on the hip of a short black velvet skirt.

He missed Eldon already. The music was so loud inside the club, he head to lean closer than he liked to be heard, though he felt he was shouting.“I came to ask you for a favor.”

She moved her hand back to the area just over her low-cut top. She placed her free hand on his arm, pulling up on her toes and pressing her body against his. “In that case, come to my office and we’ll have a drink. I rarely grant favors sober.”

Mike suppressed impatience, noting the bouncers who appeared out of nowhere to clear her path through the crushing crowd around the dance floor. One of the men, a pissed-off looking man with black eyes and a braid of equally-black hair down his back, kept giving Mike the evil-eye over Sage’s head. The trip seemed to take half an hour, but they finally gained the hallway to the offices. The sound level dropped enough so his heart could choose its own beat, but not enough to allow for conversation. At the entrance to the VIP bar, one bouncer peeled off, but the angry-looking one pulled Sage aside. He bent his head, placing his lips to her ear, but his eyes never left Mike. This guy was even bigger than Eldon. Sage ran her hands over his abs before shaking off his grip. She didn’t grab Mike’s arm again, he noted gratefully.

A final turn brought them to the elevator. Mike couldn’t help but stare at the gleaming door and the jolt of longing surprised him. He could almost smell Verity’s subtle perfume.

 Sage paused beside the closed door to the room on the opposite side of the corridor. “I need to take care of something. Make yourself comfortable. Help yourself to the bar. I’ll be back in just a minute.”  She unlocked the door and flipped on the light. He stepped inside warily. She pulled the door closed behind her. He heaved a sigh of relief. He’d had his share of aggressive females, but there was something about Sage’s touch that made him feel …freaked out and antsy.

There were chairs in front of the desk, but to his left, he spied a seating area. Stepping into the large space, he realized the office was much larger than he’d seen from the hall this morning. He absently rubbed the tattoo on his arm out of habit, but the spot felt much better after two applications of the ointment—or maybe it was just time for the damn thing to heal, but he didn’t miss the maddening itch. The sensation was replaced by an equally maddening low thrum of desire for the woman he’d come to find. Hurry up, Sage. Could he be lucky enough for her bodyguard to accompany her into the office? He much preferred the man’s version of aggression.

The desk was positioned in front of the door, but to the left, the room opened up. Floor-to-ceiling windows like the apartment upstairs, also draped in black.  Through the glass, he could see another huge balcony, provoking an involuntary grin as he continued to look around.  There was a chaise lounge large enough for two, also upholstered in black leather, and opposing the roomy couch were two similar chairs.  He spied the bar, but the huge painting hanging over the antique-looking cabinet was more captivating.  He stepped around the desk and got closer.

The frame was carved from dark wood, and a brass light curving over the top showed the work off to advantage. The painting was of three women. They stood barely apart, arms linked, in a field of flowers in the middle of a heavy forest. All were dressed in white, flowing gowns decorated with gold threads, gowns that bared their arms and touched the ground.  He easily recognized Verity and Sage, but was amazed to see a third woman with identical features. She had red hair and blue eyes, but otherwise, the three could have been triplets. Each woman wore a circle of flowers on her head like a crown, capping luxuriant hair cascading to their waists, the way Vee’s did.  Sage had cut her hair sometime after the painting had been done; the black cap now barely brushed her shoulders. 

The painting looked very old, like their clothes, something out of another century, but neither Verity nor Sage appeared to have aged a day. The artist had taken great pains to capture their faces. The talented hand had caught the look of naughty mischief in Sage’s eyes, as well as the dreamy look in Verity’s. The sister unknown to him appeared to be challenging the artist, so commanding was her expression. The gowns they wore were gauzy, revealing as much as they concealed. They could have been goddesses of Greek mythology he’d studied in school. Helluva unique family portrait.

He heard the door open and looked around. Sage stepped into her office and laughed when she saw where he was standing. “I see you’ve figured out there are three of us.”

“Yeah, this looks old, but it can’t be.  You and Vee look exactly the same, not a day older.  What’s the other sister’s name?”

Sage crossed the room to stand beside him, a bit too close beside him. “We call her Rosemary, unless we’re mad at her. What would you like to drink?”

He took half a step back. A slight frown creased her brow. “A beer, if you have it.”

“If I’d known sooner you were the beer type,  I’d have brought one from the bar.  How about a brandy instead?” She was already setting up two snifters, so he nodded his assent.  Since it was clear Sage didn’t plan to get in any hurry, he took a seat in one of the chairs.  She handed him the heavy crystal glass and sank down into the other chair. He took a sip. Rich, smoky flavor exploded on his tongue. The brandy was excellent, better than any he’d had before, and he complimented her on it.

Her eyes flickered as a secretive smile played across her lips, disappearing quickly.  “Thank you. The vintage is very old. So, what sort of favor are you here to ask?”

Uncomfortable with the look in her eye, he got straight to the point, swirling the liquid in his glass.  “I was hoping you might give me Vee’s number.  She, uh, fell asleep so fast this morning I didn’t have a chance to ask her for it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t think to leave her your own?”

Damn, she was going to be difficult, he could see it in her eyes. “I prefer to be the one doing the calling, at least in the beginning.  Besides, I didn’t feel right digging around in your drawers for something to write on.”

Sage chuckled, and took another sip of her brandy before answering. “Old-fashioned, are you?  That’s right up Vee’s alley.  She’d never have called if you’d left your number, you know.  Frankly, I’m still in shock that she acted so daringly last night. I’ve never known her to spend the night with a man she’d just met. Unless you two met somewhere else?”

He remembered Vee didn’t want her sister to know about the tattoo. It wasn’t as if they’d had much of a conversation or gone to dinner after getting inked. He kept his face deliberately blank as he met her intense scrutiny. He had no idea how close the two were, but the look in Sage’s eyes was making him angry. The way her gaze traveled from his face to his crotch and back was more than curiosity, it was invitation.

“Never laid eyes on her until I sat down in the VIP bar. But, I would very much like to see her again. I’d appreciate your helping me out. It’s a simple request. I promise I’ll not harass her if she doesn’t want to see me again.”  He gave her a determined look. “Something tells me she might be glad I called.”

Sage seemed to find something about that statement very amusing. Her lips curved in a manner he found insulting. She shifted in her chair and rearranged her legs, causing her short skirt to slide up her thighs. “Verity has her own ways of dealing with stalkers. I’m not in the least worried about that. Are you sure she’s the sister you want? After all, we’re both here now. Who knows what Vee’s doing tonight?”

Stubbornly, he kept his eyes on her face.  “I’d very much like to call Verity.”

He looked up as the office door flew open, expecting to see the man that had given him the evil eye earlier. Instead, he was surprised to see the red-headed sister, outfitted in tight black leather pants and matching lace-up bustier, covered by a see-through, flaming red top.  Her hair was still the length it’d been in the portrait, but unlike Vee, she wore it unbound. The coppery mass seemed to snap and crackle around her torso, and the look on her face made him long for his bat…just in case.

“Well, Sage, Axel is very upset that you’re in here with another man. Shame on you.”

Sage lowered her eyes and sipped again from her glass. The third sister closed the door behind her and strode across the room, yanking open one of the doors on the bottom of the cabinet, revealing a small refrigerated space.

Finally, Sage spoke. “Axel is far too possessive. Mike, this is Rosemary.  Rose, this is Michael Reardon. He plays some kind of game…for the Braves, I think. He’s here to ask me for Verity’s number. Should I give it to him?”

Rosemary slammed the door and turned. Lifting a bottle of the house water to her lips, she leaned against the bar and eyed him dispassionately. Sage straightened her skirt, he saw out of the corner of his eye. “Hello, Rosemary. Nice to meet you.”

Rosemary ignored his greeting, snapping at her sister instead. “Why don’t you give it to him, then?  I need to use your apartment, Sage.”

Sage batted her eyelashes. He clenched his hand around the snifter, wanting to snap her little neck. “Oh, dear, now if I let you have the apartment that causes a little problem for our friend Mike. Verity told me she might be persuaded to see him again, but only if I’d loan her the apartment. They borrowed it last night but he neglected to get her number before he left this morning.”

This announcement prompted Rosemary to turn eyes on him with a great deal more interest. “I thought Verity was doing the purity thing.  What’s it been, at least three years now?”

“I guess she drew the line at a thousand days penance. Do I give in to your needs, or hers?”  Sage was still looking at him with an invitation in her eyes, in spite of the new sister’s contemptuous glare.

Mike had just about enough of Sage. He put down the drink and stood, ready to leave. He could get her number from Thane. “Look, all I want to do is invite her out for a late dinner, and it doesn’t have to be tonight. I’d appreciate you giving me her number. If not, I’ll be leaving.  Thanks for the drink. Nice to meet you,” he said with a nod in the direction of… was it Rosemary? He really only gave a damn about the sister who wasn’t present.

Rosemary didn’t mince words. “Sage, stop being a bitch.  I know exactly what you’re doing. If the man wants Verity, I suggest you get past it. Here, let’s just call her.”

Stomping to the desk, she yanked up the receiver from an old-fashioned desk phone, still scolding her sister. “Why do you taunt Axel?  You know what a bad mood he gets in when you do this. Either put him out of his misery or stop screwing with him.” She glared at an unrepentant-looking Sage. “Hello, Verity? This is Rose. I’m calling from the club. Someone’s here for you. You better speak to him before I have to declaw Sage. Mike, I think she said his name was.”

She held the receiver out to Mike, who wondered if they were planning to listen to the conversation.  Rosemary seemed to be insisting Sage join her in the hallway, he saw to his relief.

“Michael?” Hearing her voice both soothed and inflamed him.

A few minutes later, and a great deal happier, he opened the office door to find both women involved in a heated discussion. “Stone’s going to be mad when he finds out, Rosemary,” he heard Sage hiss.

Rosemary looked Mike straight in the eyes as she responded to her sister. “Verity has the right to make her own decisions, Sage. You know her mother’s crazy.  Besides, since when are you on his side?”

“You know it’s not that simple, damn you.”

He hesitated, wondering how private this argument was. Neither seemed to care what he overheard. He took advantage of the break in the argument. “Sage, can I go out the same way I did this morning?  It’s closer to where I parked.  And Rosemary, nice meeting you and thanks for making the call.” 

“See you around,” Rosemary replied carelessly, turning her attention back to Sage, who now appeared hell bent on ignoring him.

“Of course, you remember which door?” Sage muttered after getting the hard look from the other woman.  Still ignoring him, she put the key into her sister’s outstretched hand and turned on her heel, leaving him standing there with Rosemary, who continued to stand with her back to the wall, her expression a bit friendlier now that Sage was gone.

He had a few minutes to kill. “I couldn’t help overhearing. Vee has a different mother than you two?”

“We each have different mothers, Mike. Now, take my sister out to dinner, or ask her for a tour of that private beach of hers. It’s about time she had a little fun. Glad I could help, not to mention save you from becoming a tool for Sage’s raging jealousy. I’m sure she took the opportunity to proposition you?”

“You caught that?  I was about to give up and leave.”

The red-head snorted.  “I keep waiting for Verity to kick her little ass, but I’m beginning to think I won’t live long enough to see that. Sage is insanely jealous of both of us, but Verity in particular. Why she’s our father’s favorite is beyond me.”

Mike thought that over a minute, and realized what was bugging him. “But, you all look about the same age…”  He had no idea how to put his thoughts into words, but a knowing smile lit Rosemary’s face, and her blue eyes lost most of their frost.

“Oh, He’s quite the rogue, our father.  Believe it or not, we were all born on the same day of the same year. Verity’s the youngest, though, by two minutes. If you can’t guess, Sage is the middle sister, born one minute after me.”

That statement nearly blew his mind. He had no idea how to respond. “Who is this Stone guy Sage is so worried about?”

“Last I heard, he was ancient history. If you’re smart, you won’t speak his name to Verity. Especially if you want to see that beach of hers. Feel free to tell her I mentioned it.” Her wink was accompanied by her push away from the wall, and again, he felt his senses go on his alert. His heart rate rocketed, but she turned away, taking the sense of danger with her.

To be continued....Thanks for dropping in. Don't forget to check out what fellow romance author Jennifer Simpkins has to say about those damn Yankees this week. She has some sexy new cover art posted for her upcoming release, Trusting Patience, too.

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 7 ~ The Monday Night Bleacher Report

Welcome back!

We've hit a rough patch in Atlanta.

(I know, I know. Please, someone, nominate that sentence for Understatement of the Year. I need the publicity.) While my fictional Brave's third baseman, Mike Reardon, thinks his luck has changed when he hooks up with Verity on the patio at Obsidian, the real-deal Braves have won only eight of their last twenty-two games.

Welcome to that time of year when I start to put some serious thought into what I wear on game days. Their pink Mother's Day bats didn't do much for the Upton brothers yesterday. Does that mean...(gasp!)  Has my lucky pink Braves cap lost it's magic? Say it ain't so, Joe. Should I not wear my lucky hat when we play the D'backs tonight? Do I need to find my Chipper Jones bobble-head doll, build it an altar, and sacrifice a live chicken? Will my neighbor miss their live chicken, or are they serious Braves fans, who might understand that their new rooster is driving me up a fricken wall  that true fans must do whatever it takes to help their team?

Believe it or not, that kind of fan-think was one of the motivations behind Guarding the Line. We all know someone--or are the one--who thinks our behavior can affect the outcome of a game. Or, maybe you have to live in the sports-crazy culture of the South. But I had the thought "What if there's no such thing as bad luck? What if the things happening in an alternate reality bleed through and affect humans day-to-day activities." A bit of musing on all the times I hunted a lost item, only to find it in exactly the spot when I searched most often, and voila! GTL got it's start.

Oh, so you caught me diverting your attention from the Brave's season, did'ja? Guilty as charged. So is Verity, when we last saw her, she'd been caught red-handed by her half-sister Sage, coming out of a curtained booth on the patio at Obsidian.

Onward:

Verity could've strangled her sister, but she kept her voice even.  At least she hoped it was even. “Going back to the VIP bar, Sage. I think my break’s over now.”

A wicked smile curved sage’s lips. She eyed Mike, then looked at Verity. “So, the fact that Avery came into work isn’t information you’re interested in?”

Verity felt her heart speed up, as if the organ wasn’t beating hard enough already. “I thought Avery was in Jamaica?”

Sage raised one shoulder. “And the lovely vacation turned into a spat. His lover picked up somebody else to love, so he’s back, and you’re off the hook. Poor man’s eying the tip jar like a drowning swimmer looking at a life preserver. Nothing like a bit of cash to soothe a broken heart.  I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I couldn’t believe it when Hanes said he saw you come out here, and Jeremy said you were…well, anyway.” 

Verity thought about sending her sister a bouquet of her special roses for the way Sage dropped her eyes to examine Mike’s…package. “Really, Sage?” She didn’t feel a single twinge of guilt for not telling Sage her suspension was up. The information had slipped her mind. For a week. Yeah, right. Closing her eyes, Verity quickly filled her mind with images of trivia…the dark curtains surrounding the patio, the beach at her front door, her front yard. The last thing she wanted was for Sage to discern information about her visit from the Triscaro. She’d tell Sage at some point, but until Verity figured out what Sage had done to warrant the punishment Verity suffered on her behalf, she wasn’t in any hurry to let her sister go back to practicing magic. And it would be best if Sage didn’t know how interested Verity was in the man standing at her side. Wasn’t it just like Sage not to show an ounce of compassion for Avery? How awful, to break up on vacation. Embarrassment made her thoughts whirl.

“Thank you, Sage, whoever you are.  I have plans for this woman,” Mike said, grabbing her hand. So much for secrets. “Let’s get you clocked out and go someplace else.”

“This is my sister, Mike. It’s her club. Sage, this is Mike…uh, don’t think I recall your last name.” Dammit, she was too old to blush.

“Reardon.  Nice to meet you, Sage.”

“Oh, no. the pleasure is all mine,” Sage purred. Before Vee could react, Sage stuck her hand between her breasts, bringing out a key. Removing the chain from around her neck, Sage pressed the small piece of brass into Vee’s hand. “Allow me to help you with those plans. Have fun, kids.” Verity curled her fingers around the key, watching Sage preen like a parrot through narrowed eyes. Sage smoothed her short hair and stuck out her breasts. Her eyes were still glued to Mike and Vee didn’t miss the avaricious gleam. If the guy had returned Sage’s look, Vee wouldn’t think twice about leaving, but he didn’t. A quick glance showed Verity he was looking at her. For now.

Vee swore silently.

“What’s the key to? Are there more, um, private places in this damn nightclub?”

Sage’s smile would’ve melted the Abominable Snowman. “A private elevator, the one that goes to an apartment in this building,” her sister informed her hook-up.

       “Give me that key,” he replied, reaching for Verity’s clenched fist.

“Not the trusting sort, are you?” Verity relinquished the object. “First the hair comb, now the key?”

He didn’t let go of her hand. “Come on, gorgeous. The gods answered my prayers. Let’s go. Call it insurance so you don’t change your mind without giving me the chance to talk you out of it.” 

He didn’t give Sage a second look. 
Maybe my luck’s changing.

****

They made their way around the dance floor. The crowd had thinned a bit, since it was well past midnight. Verity led him to a door marked Female Employees Only. Torn between necking in the hall and shoving her through the door so they could go wherever the key in his hand might lead, he was relieved when she twisted from his grasp and disappeared through the door.  He leaned against the wall after sending a text to Victor, to tell his teammates not to wait.  He shoved the cell phone back in his pocket, waiting impatiently, while visions of the things he planned to do with her danced like demons in his head. What was it about her that had him panting like a teenager, even though she’d just milked him damn near dry?  He hadn’t been able to take his damn eyes off her, not at the tattoo parlor, not tonight. With hundreds of women in the place, she was the only one he could see, despite the nearly identical sister. It had to be those amazing eyes, he decided. How weird was it to imagine something so beautiful, only to have it come true? He could barely wait to have her beneath him.

And me without a condom or four. Surely, little Miss Sage had some handy. There had been a large bowl in the men’s room, mounded with glossy black wrappers imprinted with the club name across the front. 

The door opened, and he shoved away from the wall.  He could see her nipples through the fabric of the tee shirt. What a hot little number.

“Do I need to duck into the men’s room for some condoms, or will she have some in her apartment?” he asked.

“There will be some upstairs,” she assured him.

“Let’s go.” Grabbing her hand again, he let her lead the way. She stopped in front of an elevator door, but he saw no buttons on the brass plate, just a small hole. He realized the carriage took a key, and fished in his pocket. The key Sage had given them slipped in easily. The polished black door slid open without a sound.

He found the key slot on the inside of the elevator door and once more fitted the key inside the lock. Gold-tinted mirrors lined the walls of the elevator, a relief from the unrelenting black.  The door closed obediently. Turning toward her, Mike pressed her against the back of the elevator, pinning her with his hips as he kissed her hungrily. He felt the elevator ascend. Odd, because he’d thought the club was on the top floor.

Before he could do much with her shirt, they stopped and the door slid open. Looking over his shoulder, he realized the elevator opened directly into an apartment. He reached for the key, but she put a restraining hand over his. After depressing a tiny button below the slot, she took his hand. They stepped into the apartment, leaving the key in place.

Mike let out an admiring whistle. During his time in the majors, he’d seen some fancy digs, but this place was right up there with them. The facing wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the city. Through the sheer drapes, he could see a large balcony, complete with fire pit. Black-lacquered furniture studded the room. The upholstery had been done in black leather.  A kitchen sat to his left, tucked into an alcove. The black countertops were identical to the ones downstairs in the bar. Bright pottery decorated countertops and shelves. To his right, another alcove featured a massive poster bed. The covers were black, but pillows of turquoise, red, orange, and hot pink were piled at the headboard. The colors mimicked the crocks and jars in the kitchenette. Even the floors and walls were black. The flooring looked and felt like rubber. Squinting, he thought the ceiling was covered in the same material. Sound-proofing, maybe? The lighting was subtle, as was the music. The song playing wasn’t the hard-driving stuff from the club.

“Sage is fond of black.” She toed off her shoes.

“Does she live here?”

“No. If anyone asks, now you can tell them you’ve seen the real VIP lounge at Obsidian.”

Fuck gawking at the room like a tourist. Mike put his hand on her waist. Since their little adventure on the patio, every time he touched her, a strong sensation shot straight to his cock. “Show me that tat.”

(To be continued 5/20)

 Thanks for dropping in. Let's go see what fellow romance author Jennifer Simpkins has to say about her damn Yankees, shall we? 

Guarding the Line ~ Chapter 4, cont.

Ah, baseball. The great ego equalizer. After the Braves reeled off a 12-1 start, last week was reality-check time. Atlanta lost four out of five games, but they're  tied with the Rockies for the best record in the majors.

And I've sent Forceful Negotiations off to the proofreader, meaning it will hit the shelves at Amazon and other outlets later this week. I swear, I've birthed kids in less time. It was a challenge to sow the seeds for a variety of future stories while still writing one complete love story.

Since my daughter's pregnancy, we've enjoyed more than one egg roll feast and mother/daughter chat. I asked if she was in favor of gays being allowed to marry. Looking at me like I'd grown gills, she drawled,. "Well, duh. Of course I am. I can hardly wait to watch Gay Divorce Court!"


Guarding the Line, Chapter 4, continued.

continued

Last week, we left Mike and Verity in the VIP bar at Obsidian, when Mike realized he'd been dreaming about this woman for quite some time.

*~*~*~*~*

“Your choice, then." She set a shot glass on the bar in front of him. Her gaze appeared to roam his chest before she slowly lifted her eyes to his face. Her smile made his pulse kick up like dust in a whirlwind..

“You choose for me,” he said, smiling back. “Pick what you like and how about I buy you one?”

She didn't hesitate, slapping another shot glass on the bar. The thick blanket of her hair swirled around her when she turned away to select a bottle. She returned, tipping the bottle over the glasses and filling them with slightly amber liquid. He got a look at the label. The lady liked tequila, it seemed. He had to admit, her choice of Petron was an excellent one.

She sat the bottle back in its slot and reached for the shot glass.

“What, no salt, no lime?” 

“Lightweight,” she taunted, but she plopped a salt shaker in front of him with an ease that spoke of much practice, along with a dish of lime wedges. With a smirk, she added a pile of napkins. He couldn't respond, so fixed was he on the sight of her tongue sliding slowly along the skin of her left hand between her thumb and forefinger. He wanted to feel that tongue on his skin, wanted to see those gorgeous eyes darken when he—

With a slight shake of his head, he realized she was waiting for him to follow suit. Making sure to hold her gaze, he licked his own hand and sprinkled salt over the spot, lining up a lime wedge before reaching for his shot glass, more to give himself time to calm down than any other reason. God, those eyes. Mike raised his glass. “What are we drinking to?” he managed to rasp. His tongue felt as uncooperative as a new glove.

“Your turn to choose."

Damn, she wasn't giving him anything to work with. He cast around for something, deciding to remind her of their first meeting. “To Thane, then.”

“To Thane,” she agreed, tossing back the shot.

             She drank as if her glass had been filled with water. He realized belatedly she hadn't bothered with either the salt or the lime. But she held his eyes as he licked the salt from his own skin before raising the glass to his lips. He reached for the lime wedge. Recklessly, he offered the fruit to her. When she bit it, still staring into his eyes, he felt her lips brush his fingers, but he couldn't look away from her face. How many nights had he seen her eyes in his dreams? He hadn't believed real people had eyes the color of amethysts, but here she was, close enough to touch.

            The tequila traced fingers of fire down his throat, but the tiny swipe of her tongue across his thumb started a stronger burn south of his stomach. Regret flooded him as she pulled her head back, leaving the lime in his fingers. Still holding her gaze, he inserted the wedge in his mouth. She turned away, breaking the crazy feeling only the two of them existed in the crowded bar.Tossing the peel onto a napkin, he watched as she began fixing another round of drinks for the waitress who suddenly stood to his right. “When’s last call around here?” he asked.

            The scantily-clad girl gave him a knowing look, and then glanced back at the bartender, who was busily mixing drinks, her back to him. “Ten minutes to four,” she said with a groan.

            Mike glanced at his watch. It was only one-thirty. He suppressed a groan of his own. But she was pretty much a captive behind this bar, and he had nothing better to do than wait, and watch. He settled more comfortably into the tall chair.

            She brought the waitress a tray filled with frothy drinks. The girl ambled off with a sigh. The bartender picked up the bottle and poured him another shot. Before he could speak, she walked away again, this time to take orders from a large group that had just settled themselves at the opposite end of the long bar. A guy appeared behind the long slab of black marble, jockeying a keg on a pair of hand trucks. 

            “Did you go to Milwaukee for that?” she demanded.

“Sorry, Vee, its nuts out there. I been trying to get here for an hour.” The guy knelt to manhandle the keg into place.

Vee. What kind of nickname is that? Violet? 

When he finished the chore, the guy stood and pulled the tap until the amber liquid ran in a clear, steady stream. “There ya go, Vee. I’ll get somebody over here so you can have a break.  I guess I forgot that, too, huh?”

“I guess you did,” she agreed. “But its okay. I've been so busy, I forgot I needed one.”

The guy seemed reluctant to leave, Mike noticed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll buy you breakfast to make up for neglecting you.”

Damn it, Mike thought as he listened to their exchange. He felt something lurch in his chest.

“No thanks, Remo. I have something to do after I get off.”

Mike watched through narrowed eyes. The guy with the keg smoothed a strand of her hair off her shoulder, taking the opportunity to let his hand drift a lot closer to her breast than Mike liked. She took a step back. “Aw, Vee, don’t be like that, girl. We both know you got nothing going on at five in the morning. Come on, let me buy you breakfast.” The offending hand moved closer to the dip in the top of her tight corset.

She slapped his hand. “I said, no thanks.” He dropped his hand, but it grazed her hip. half-rising, Mike knew that touch was no accident. She flinched, but her eyes flashed.

Mike watched the asshole grin at her, anger tightening his gut. He recognized the look in the guy’s eyes. It was probably the same look he wore, pure lust. He understood somehow, too, this wasn't the first time the guy had tried to touch her. She’d made it plain enough she didn't want the asshole's hands on her. He could see her dislike in the stiffness of her spine.

“Don’t you have something to do?” she snapped at the guy. “Like find somebody to relieve me, remember?”

The guy took tow steps, but turned back for one more try. “See you on your break, then.”

“Sorry, Reno. I have a better offer,” she spat, tilting her head.

Mike realized she meant him. He couldn’t resist a triumphant grin. The guy glared at him across the bar before striding away.

“Idiot,” she muttered, approaching Mike once more. “You still want that beer?”

“Are you okay?” he asked, wanting to comfort her. Somehow.

“Why wouldn't I be? He’s harmless, but irritating. I hate when guys just think it’s okay to—”  

To be continued on 4/29

Come with me to check in with the other Baseball Babes, Jennifer Simpkins and Kathleen Grieve. Oh, and I'm giving away copies of Breaking Glass, the lead-in story to Forceful Negotiations, for leaving a comment on this post and joining my Facebook author page until the 30th. Who knows? I might have to give away a few copies of Forceful Negotiations later this week on Facebook, too. Have a great week!