"I'm such an idiot." Maddie repeated it like a mantra as
she made her way up to the press box. She hadn't even
reached the second step on her way back up the stands when
she realized she'd made a huge mistake in agreeing to a
clandestine interview with Jake Miller. She was a
professional, and she'd acted almost like a
star–struck groupie.
Okay, maybe not that bad, but she hadn't done herself
any credit. As for hoping that a super friendly manner
might soften him up...well, that had backfired in her face,
hadn't it?
From the minute the Patriots' manager had told her
Miller was going to be called up, she'd been determined to
snag an interview with him. Even stalking him if she'd had
to. So, she'd come to the field early, springing into
action as soon as he ran out from the clubhouse to warm up.
Maddie had only ever seen him play from a seat in the
stands, always from a fair distance away. While she knew he
was a major league heartthrob, the first time she really
got it was in that moment when he'd turned and nailed her
with his focused gaze. Up close, he was way hotter than
she'd expected.
Maddie had pretty much memorized his media guide
numbers: thirty–one years old, six–four, and
two hundred thirty–five pounds. But those numbers
were just that—cold numbers. Statistics. They didn't
begin to give an adequate picture of the man. Jake Miller
was indeed a very big ballplayer, superbly conditioned and
toned without an apparent ounce of extra weight on his
imposing frame. He was simply solid from head to toe, from
his muscular neck down through strong, broad shoulders, a
deep chest and powerful thighs and calves. As she'd
surreptitiously eyed his trim waist, she was sure that if
he took his jersey off she'd see the ripped abs that come
with a lot of quality time in the weight room. His arms
were iron–hard through the biceps, tapering all the
way down to strong wrists and hands. Every inch of Jake
Miller spoke of strength and power.
But what got to her even more than his
ultra–masculine body was his handsome, open face. His
blond hair, thick and stylishly cut, was a bit longer than
most players. Up close, he had deep blue eyes that gleamed
with humor and intelligence. His mouth, set above a
chiseled jaw line, had lines around it that told her he
smiled a lot. And his voice—deep and smooth as honey,
was a naturally sexy one that gave a girl a funny feeling
in the pit of her stomach.
That voice had been her downfall. It had persuaded her
to throw her innate caution to the winds and agree to his
crazy plan. She knew what that dinner invitation was about,
too. Jake had been coming on to her, even though he'd done
his best to pretend he wasn't.
Still mentally kicking herself as she took her place in
the press box, Maddie gave the other media types a
desultory greeting before sticking her nose into her laptop
computer. Staring at the screen, she saw nothing and did
nothing. She simply couldn't believe she'd agreed to
something so dangerous and stupid—something that
could even sidetrack her career if the Patriots found out
and decided to come down heavy on her. If there was one
thing Media Affairs staff hated more than anything else, it
was losing control of the players' contact with reporters.
If she and Jake were caught, would the team pressure the
paper to pull her from the Patriots beat? Maddie had a lot
of faith in her boss, Martin James, but was sure the
Patriots had more clout with the top brass at the Post than
she could even imagine.
God, she could even see herself being relegated to
covering high school sports again. Friday Night
Lights—she'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.
That can't happen.
She couldn't see any way out of the potential
catastrophe except to call Jake's room and leave a message
calling the encounter off. Resolving to do just that, she
retrieved her phone from her bag. But as soon as the hotel
operator connected, asking her for the room number of the
guest she wished to talk to, Maddie hung up. She cast a
quick glance around the press box. Fortunately, no one
seemed to be paying her any attention. She blew out a sigh
and slumped back in her seat, staring blindly out at the
field. Maybe she was just being paranoid. After all, the
chances of getting found out were minimal if they followed
the plan Miller had concocted. And even if someone saw them
and ratted them out, there was no guarantee the team would
do anything more than give her a verbal dressing down. If
she could hold any potential damage to that level, the
story would be well worth it.
An exclusive, intimate interview with Jake Miller, as
he returned to the bigs? Media gold by anybody's standard.
The rest of Maddie's afternoon passed in a mental fog as
her mind oscillated between wanting to cancel dinner and
wanting to damn the torpedoes and do the interview. The
only time she found it easy to focus on the game was when
Miller was up to bat or making a play in the field. Then,
her attention seemed to narrow on him with laser–like
intensity as she absorbed every move he made. Even when he
was struck out by a Padres' reliever in the eighth inning,
Maddie thought he looked better fanning than a lot of
players looked getting a hit. That, of course, simply
illustrated the complete deterioration of her mental
faculties under the onslaught of Miller's charm offensive.
By the time she got back to her room that evening,
Maddie had pretty much given up on cancelling dinner. She
knew it would be safer in terms of her career if she
insisted that the interview be at the park. But the safe
course wasn't always the best course, a lesson she'd been
trying to learn for years. If she could pull this interview
off, there was a very good chance she could take her career
to a different level, and solidify her position at the
paper.
As she lay in bed, exhausted but too restless to sleep,
she tried to make her decision based on a hard–nosed
risk assessment. But she was kidding herself, and she knew
it. Career advancement aside, one of the sexiest bachelors
in baseball had made his interest in her crystal clear.
And "interest" was a polite way of putting it—the man
wanted to spend time with her, and he'd come up with an
almost irresistible carrot to dangle as bait.
But why the heck was he hitting on her in the first
place? Maddie knew she wasn't a hag, but she'd always
classed her looks as nothing out of the ordinary.
Certainly, she in no way resembled the leggy models and
perfect ten actresses most of the players had on their
arms. Jake Miller was one of the best–looking guys on
the team, right up there with Nate Carter as a sexy
heartthrob. Women were lining up to date him—gorgeous
women who could and would happily give Miller absolutely
anything he wanted.
So, what in God's name had he seen in her? As Maddie
finally drifted off to sleep, the answer continued to elude
her, but she knew she had to find out.