Ms. Match by Jo Leigh

matter. Not for a friend. Hell, he shouldn’t be thinking about it at all. He liked her. He did. Still, the wish kept popping up.
    And that damn wish kept reminding him about Friday night with Autumn. They’d gone to the party, and she’d been right. It had been a hell of a gathering, as A-list as they come. She’d been flirtatious all night. Unfortunately, she’d shared the wealth with all the men in the room. Normally, that didn’t bother him. Most of his dates understood their power and used it indiscriminately, especially around celebrities. He usually felt an odd pride about that.
    Not this time.
    He’d been irritated at her blatant sexuality, at her obviousness. When she’d been ready for the final tease with him, he’d been so tired and put off he’d barely tried to get her into bed.
    “This is the most amazing place I’ve ever been,” Gwen said, staring down at first base. “And I’ve been to the Parthenon.”
    Yep. She totally got it. “You’re right. Wait till the game starts. You’ll never want it to end.”
    She tore her gaze from the field to look around. Even though it was one of the smaller suites it could still hold up to twenty guests. Occasionally, he brought that many. Clients and contacts, sometimes his poker buddies. Only once had it been him and a woman, but that had been too distracting. When he came here, he wanted baseball. Pure, simple, as it was meant to be played.
    He watched her face as she noticed the screens, with a view from every angle. There was the wet bar and fridge, the hot food station, the round tables behind the front row, each with bowls of peanuts and popcorn and even M&M’s. She ran her hands over the arms of the Aeron chair, and he watched her test the lumbar feature, knowing there wasn’t a more comfortable seat in the whole damn place.
    What he also knew was that the thrills were only beginning. The waiters would come in with all manner of delicious food. Dodger Dogs, naturally, but so much more. The beer was ice-cold on tap, the sound from the announcers piped directly in, the action on the field second only to being on the bench.
    When she finally looked at him, her smile changed her face. He’d never seen her look like that before, even when they’d danced.
    “Thank you. It’s heaven.”
    “I knew you’d like it.”
    “I do. I just can’t believe all this is just for us.”
    He shrugged. “I have to do business here on a regular basis during the season. For once, I didn’t want to think about anything but the game.”
    “I don’t think I could do business. It would be like working in church.”
    “Exactly. You ready for your beer, or you want to wait for the first pitch?”
    She bit her lower lip and for a moment he saw a family resemblance. Not that he could have said exactly what, but it was there. “I’ll wait,” she said.
    “Whatever you want.” He sat back and looked past the park to Elysian Field. Even with the smog, it was a great sight. Man, he loved this place.
    Gwen got up, and as she passed him, she put her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, at her happiness, and he felt as if he’d passed a test. It wasn’t the whole match, but it was a start.
    Now if he could just figure out why he wanted to win at all.

    GWEN LOOKED AT HERSELF in the private bathroom mirror and she had to wonder whose life she was living. It wasn’t hers, that’s for sure.
    The game had ended not ten minutes ago—a four-two victory for her boys. She’d eaten unbelievably fine food, shouted until she’d worried about losing her voice, had laughed far more than seemed plausible. In short, she’d had a great time.
    With Paul Bennet.
    There were still so many questions that she should be asking, but the truth was, she didn’t want to. It was one day. One game. She’d had a blast, and not just because of the game.
    She’d underestimated Paul in the brains department. Yes, he still had the whole shallow thing going on, and please, she had to deal with