Playing Catch: A Baseball Romance by Rachelle Ayala Page B

snorted, thinking of how devious his mother was to have sent him the purported love letters. He wouldn’t put it past her to have sent a private eye to track his business, but the likely story was that the private investigator saw him with Jeanine, took a few pictures, and his mother decided she was both glamorous and wealthy enough to be the mother of her grandkids.
    Jeanine walked by him as if she didn’t know him. She flashed her cell phone at the boarding agent and strolled down the Jetway to her assigned seat.
    Okay, so she was playing hard to get, except they were sitting next to each other. When she’d asked him to book the tickets, he’d made sure of that.
    Kirk casually flashed the boarding pass on his cell phone to the gate agent and followed her, with several travelers in between them, to the awaiting jet.
    Minutes later, he claimed his seat in first class. “I believe I have the aisle seat.”
    She merely smiled and moved herself from the plush aisle seat to the window. First class meant the two of them would be alone in their row.
    “So,” Kirk said after he sat down. “I have an hour to figure out how to be your wingman. We should work out signals.”
    “We only need one signal.” Jeanine flipped him the bird. “And that means ‘get lost.’”
    “Actually, I’m serious about helping you find the guy of your dreams.” Kirk wrapped his fingers around her middle finger and stroked it. “So, tell me what’s your type. Tall, dark, handsome? Gangster chic? Blue collar hunk? Celebrity or billionaire?”
    “After you tell me your type.” She curled her upper lip at him. “I figure, if you’re going to be my wingman, I ought to be your wingwoman. Help you get laid.”
    “I don’t need any help getting laid, and I prowl alone. No wingman needed.”
    “I bet you’ve been wingman to your buddies.” She changed tack and glanced at him sideways. “You know, Brock Carter, didn’t you two used to be buddies in the minor leagues?”
    He closed her middle finger back into her fist. “Rule number one for wingmen and wingwomen, don’t ask, don’t tell.”
    “Fair enough.” She flashed him an insincere smile. “How do you propose helping me pick up the guy I want?”
    “Simple, I zero in on the girl he’s talking to, and you move in for the kill.”
    “We’re taking people away from others?”
    “Exactly. The more desirable people always have others interested in them. No wallflowers for me. You’ll see, having me around will attract all the best, most confident men.”
    “Then I should have the same effect for you.” Jeanine quirked an eyebrow. “Thanks for paying for the tickets.”
    “No prob. How many are you bagging tonight?”
    “One’s enough for me.”
    “I somehow doubt that.” He tilted his head and rubbed his chin. “You women are capable of multiple orgasms. How is it that you’d only be satisfied with one a night?”
    Her eyes narrowed for a split second before she averted her gaze. “You assume too much, Mr. Kennedy.”
    “Ah, so you’ve had some duds.” He put his other hand over the one he was holding. “Is that why you never give them a second chance?”
    “No one deserves a second chance. You know that, Kirk. Not even you.”
    “Why? Did someone break your heart? You must have fallen for a guy once. Someone who felt you were special—his lucky charm. Tell me the truth, Jeanine. Who was your first love?”
    “Who was yours?” Her eyes turned to stone. “Or do you have no heart to break?”

Chapter Eleven
    J eanine tried to slow her breathing, but her chest was constricted and she felt lightheaded. Why was Kirk so fucking nosy? This entire trip was going to be a disaster. He seemed to have already forgotten his skillful finger work, acting as if she and he were mere friends, but her body reacted to his presence as if she was flambé to his steak. The airplane hadn’t even taxied to the runway and she was already hot, shaky, and stirred up.
    Not to mention