Ms. Match by Jo Leigh Page B

purse along with a pen, pissed she hadn’t thought of bringing a black marker.
    Paul grabbed her hand as he slipped between a newscaster and her boom man. Even though she expected the cables, she almost tripped twice as they maneuvered through the tightly packed space.
    He stopped right next to Dylan Hernandez, one of her favorite sportswriters, and waited while he interviewed Joe Torre.
    Gwen tried to see everything at once. There were simply too many choices. Too many things she wanted to say to each of the players. Too big of a lump in her throat to even say boo.
    The interview ended and Paul stepped right up to the Dodgers manager. “Joe, great game.”
    Torre shook his hand. “How you doing, Paul.”
    Gwen could hardly believe he was on a first name basis with the freakin’ manager.
    “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. I know it doesn’t sound possible, but she’s a bigger fan than I am.” Paul stepped to her side, put his hand on the small of her back to gently urge her forward. “This is Gwen Christopher. You have any questions about your team, I’ll bet the farm she knows the answer.”
    She stuck out her hand and she supposed it was shaken, but she was too busy trying not to act like a doofus. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, sir.”
    “Sir? You call me Joe.”
    They said some things, things she knew she would want to remember, but nothing was getting through. It was Paul who had Joe sign her program. Then it was Paul herding a bunch of players in her direction. Each of them seemed delighted to meet her. Of course, Paul made her sound like the greatest baseball expert in the history of the game, and she was frankly too shell-shocked to correct him.
    In the end, she’d met almost the whole lineup; her program was so precious to her she’d save it from a fire before her best friend.
    By the time he called for the limo, she felt drained, exhausted and so damn happy she was beside herself. The parking lot was mostly deserted, which made sense as the game had ended two hours ago.
    She turned to Paul. “I—”
    He nodded. “I know.”
    “But—”
    “I know.”
    “And you—”
    “Seriously. I completely understand.”
    But he didn’t. He couldn’t. It was one of the greatest times of her life. It was…It was…She grabbed hold of his head, pulled him down and kissed him as if he was Elvis, George Clooney and Sandy Koufax, all rolled into one.
    When she let him go, he seemed a little startled. Maybe more than a little. Which made her feel like an idiot and, dammit, why had she ruined this perfect—
    “Well, damn,” he said, his sly grin growing. “You’re welcome.”

    8
    PAUL GLANCED AT his dashboard clock, then at the traffic he was stuck in, wondering whether he should turn around and go home.
    For a Monday, his day had gone well. In fact, it was the antithesis of last week. He’d gotten a prime gig for one of his sports clients, saved the internationally famous ass of one of his celeb clients and he’d had a phone call from his mother in Florida where they were actually pleasant to each other.
    After work he’d gone to the gym. As he’d hit the showers he realized he didn’t want to go home and he didn’t want to go to a club. He wanted to play baseball trivia. With Gwen. If he could win twice…
    They’d had a good time yesterday at the ballpark. And her friends hadn’t seemed to mind him crashing last week. If he didn’t get all high school about it, no one would think a thing. Besides, he had that gift for Gwen’s friend.
    He moved another foot, then another, and for a few minutes there it looked as if he might make it in time to chat before the trivia began. But it being L.A. and it being a day ending in Y, traffic bogged down yet again.
    He put on the radio, to the newest station on his rotation, National Public Radio. It had surprised him, how he’d gotten caught up in so many discussions that had nothing to do with the business. Tonight they were talking