Sam skidded to a stop in front of Tag and Wade and put a hand to her chest to catch her breath. “You okay?” she demanded of Tag.

He nodded.

“I think the question is are you okay?” Wade asked quietly.

She shook her head. She couldn’t talk. The relief at seeing Tag nearly brought her to her knees. She set her hands on his shoulders, searching for invisible injuries. “Are you okay?”

He dragged his toe in the dirt in front of him, watching the motion of his foot intently, appearing to be wishing for a big hole to swallow him up as he nodded.

“I asked you to wait for me,” she said, hearing the waver in her voice, knowing her legendary cool was nowhere to be found. “Where did you go?

“Nowhere,” Tag told the ground. “You left.”

“But I came back and you were gone.”

“You said three minutes. It was longer. You didn’t come back like you said.”

Sam let out a careful breath and tried to pull in another because she hadn’t taken in air since she’d realized he’d walked off without her.

Alone.

But even worse, it was her fault. The popcorn machine had blown a fuse and the person in charge of manning the electrical cords wasn’t at his station, so she’d ended up being ten minutes instead of the promised three, which she realized now must have felt like an eternity to Tag. Especially since he had a history of people leaving him. “Look at me, Tag. Please?” She waited until he lifted his gaze to hers. “Are you really okay?”

Tag stared into her face, some of his bravado slipping. Finally he nodded.

“You gave me a heart attack,” she said fiercely, and yanked him into her arms, rocking him, knowing it was herself that needed the comfort, not him.

Could have lost him . . .

Tag made a muffled sound against her sweatshirt. “Can’t. Breathe.”

She loosened her grip slightly and he sucked in a dramatic gulp of air. “Next time I’ll take you with me, but if I can’t, if something happens like this again, I need you to promise me that you will follow my directions and stay if that’s what I’ve asked of you,” she said.

“You have a lot of rules.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “That’s what people do who care about each other. We talked about you being happy, Tag. For me to be happy, I need to know where you’re at, and that you’re safe. Okay?

“Okay.”

She finally let go of him just as Santos Ramirez, the Heat’s left fielder, walked by with his three young boys.

“Hey,” he said to Sam. “I need one more kid. It takes an even number for the rides.” He grinned at Tag. They were old friends from the clubhouse. “Can I borrow him?”

Tag looked at Sam hopefully.

“Do I have your promise about the listening thing?” she asked.

He nodded his head like a bobble doll.

Sam knew it was far too easy, but inside she was still a complete wreck so she pulled out a twenty from her pocket. “For the rides and food—”

Wade wrapped his fingers around her wrist. She knew by the way he took the time to look her over carefully that he could feel her still shaking. “I already have him covered,” he said quietly.

“Ah, man,” Tag mumbled.

Santos grinned. “You’re good,” he said to Wade. “I didn’t get good until kid number three.”

Wade smiled but hadn’t taken his eyes off Sam, and she knew he could see how close she was to losing it. He slid a hand up her back, giving her silent comfort as Santos and the kids moved off. “Breathe,” he murmured softly.

She couldn’t. She’d not taken in a full breath of air since she’d found Tag missing. Hurting or losing someone she cared about was her biggest nightmare. And having it come true had scared her beyond belief. “I’ll pay you back for whatever he got out of you,” she said, attempting to sound unaffected and failing miserably. “But I ran off looking for him and left my purse at the check-in, and you need to get to your booth.”

“Sam—”

“Gotta go,” she managed, and literally jogged off. It was rude but she needed a minute.

Or thirty.

She headed to her car, where she’d be alone, to better fight the tears of panic and adrenaline choking her. And maybe then she could do as Wade had suggested, and breathe. But God, anything could have happened to him, anything at all. He could have been kidnapped, attacked, molested . . . anything.

Okay, she wasn’t quite ready to breathe yet. The moment she yanked open her car door and plopped into the driver’s seat, she put her head down on the steering wheel and burst into tears.

She held a high-powered job working with grown men who acted like children. Watching one ten-year-old should have been a piece of cake in comparison. So why couldn’t she do it? Why was it that she could be so successful at work, or at any menial task she put her mind to, and yet when it came down to something like this, something that required heart and soul, something fairly important, she failed?

The answer was simple, and devastating. She failed at relationships. All of them—

The passenger car door opened. She didn’t have to look to know that one tall, leanly muscled Wade O’Riley had just slid into the seat next to her. “You’re supposed to be at the booth,” she murmured, keeping her head down on the steering wheel.

“I was just there. Henry’s taking the first hour for me.”

“Go away, Wade.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Please.”

He just sat there, distinctly notgoing away. Shock.

“If you go away right now,” she said recklessly. “I’ll take you off the dunk booth rotation entirely.”

“Tempting. But let’s do this instead. I stay, and if I make you feel better, then you take me off the rotation.”

“Nothing can make me feel better.”

She felt his hand on her hair. “It’s not your fault,” he said very softly.

“No?” She squeezed her eyes tight, feeling another tear escape. The absolute last. “Then whose fault is it?”

“Look, he’s a kid. And a boy to boot. By the very definition, he’s supposed to drive you crazy. It’s his job.”

She choked out a laugh, and dammit, it came out sounding an awful lot like a sob. She went utterly still, but it was too late, she’d given herself away.

His hands were gentle but inexorable as he pulled her around to face him, and she could tell by the look on his face that he’d already known she was crying. She was crying, she hadn’t combed her hair, and she’d rubbed off all of her makeup.

“You’re beautiful, Sam.”

She choked out another laugh and tried to turn away but his hands tightened on her. “And you’re not yourself,” he said quietly.

“No.” She sniffed. “I need a tissue.”

When he offered her the hem of his vintage Led Zeppelin T-shirt, she had to laugh again. She was laughing while crying, which was a first.

He caught a tear with his thumb. “So you are human.”

“I am. I’m human. So much so that I’m sitting here in front of you with my nose running.”

He smiled. It wasn’t his professional smile. It wasn’t his on-the-prowl smile. Nope, this one was slow, soft, and devastating for its utter sincerity. “Hello,” he said. “My name’s Wade. Nice to meet you.”

She let out a breath. “Funny.”

“Yeah. Thing is, I mean it. This with you tonight, it feels . . . real.”

“Don’t waste your charm on me, Wade. We were drunk dates once. And then pretend dates. We wouldn’t know real if it hit us on the head.”

“Truth or dare.”

“We’ve already played that game.”

“Truth or dare.”

She sighed. “Truth.”

“Do you believe I’ve never lied to you?”

She thought about that, about all the outrageous things he’d said and done over the four years she’d known him, but she’d never doubted a single word that had come out of his mouth. “Yes. I believe you’ve never lied to me.”

“Good. The drunk date in the Atlanta elevator was . . . a surprise,” he admitted. “A hot, sexy-as-hell surprise. The pretend dating thing? Even more so.” His hand on her jaw, he slowly shook his head. “But something’s happening between us here, Sam. And it’s not just elevator and bathroom quickies.”

She forced herself to meet his eyes, and what she saw in there caught her breath. Heat. The same heat that tended to melt her panties away with alarming frequency and ease. But also warmth. And, gulp. Affection. Not to mention a staggering amount of something else.

He cared. Much more than she’d given him credit for being capable of. “Wade—”

He set his finger on her lips. “And I like you this way.”

“A mess?”

“Soft, open. Vulnerable.” He leaned over the console and slid the fingers of both hands into her hair as he shifted closer. “Real.” His lips were only a breath from hers. “It makes you more human than any other time I’ve seen you, and that’s how I know.”

“Know what?” She grabbed his wrists but didn’t pull him away because he’d begun to massage the kinked, knotted muscles at her neck, and she moaned softly instead.

“I’m falling for you.”

She went still as stone, then lifted her eyes to his. “I don’t expect you to catch me or anything,” he murmured. “But if you could just keep it in mind . . .” And then he kissed her. It was different from all their previous kisses, which had been hard and deep and wet, and instantaneously hotter than flames.

Not this time. This time it was slow and sweet as he kissed first one side of her mouth, then the other before running his tongue along her lower lip until it trembled open. There was no other option, her body always gave itself up to him, caving to his irresistible blend of intuition and assertiveness. Those were the traits that made him a great ballplayer, a strong man inside and out, and an even better lover.

And he was falling for her.

What the hell did that even mean? She’d ask but she realized both her mouth and her hands had made themselves at home on his body, which was all his fault because he had such a good one. She slid her fingers over the tight muscles of his stomach for the sheer joy of touching him, then up his chest, his neck, sinking into his soft, silky hair. “Wade.”

“Mmm.” He did something incredible with his lips on her throat and her eyes rolled back in her head as she murmured in pleasure, helplessly leaning in for more, but he held back, pulling free to look at her.

“I love your mouth,” he breathed, kissing her bottom lip, and when she made another restless sound and reached for him, he gently took it between his teeth and lightly tugged.

This caused an answering tug in all her good parts, of which there always seemed to be so many when she was with him, and then finally his mouth closed over hers again in a heavenly kiss that made her forget everything, including her own name.

Chapter 19

You can’t win them all but you can try.

—Babe Didrikson Zaharias

When Sam opened her eyes after another long, drugging kiss, the windows were completely fogged over. They were in their own world. She met Wade’s dark and scorching gaze. “This is bad.”

“A good bad,” he said, his voice thick with arousal.

“Wade, the last time we did this, I smiled like an idiot for three days.”

He smiled now. He had the sleepiest, sexiest bedroom eyes she’d even seen. “No,” she said, pointing at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Why?”

“Because when you do, I tend to lose my clothes in a hurry.”

His smile widened, slow and sure, and spoke volumes. He liked when her clothes came off.

Her ni**les went even harder. “Fine. I want you. Okay? I admit it. I. Want. You.”

“And the problem is?”

That was easy. She had a difficult time recovering afterwards, and he did not. He wanted a physical relationship. She got that. And now he was falling for her. She knew what that meant to her, but what did it mean to him? He’d been rather vague.

He ran a finger down her neck, then lightly back and forth over the base of her throat where her pulse raced, speeding up at his touch. Then his finger took a journey south.

“You know what?” she managed, her brain running on sheer lust, overtaking the thinking cells as he traced the tip of her breast. “I can’t remember the problem.”

“Atta girl.” His mouth was busy on her throat, his hands sliding beneath her shirt, settling on her ribs, making her babble.

“Besides, this is a public event.” She gasped when he cupped her breasts. “Which means we have to be boyfriend and girlfriend, right? We’re—oh, God”—those fingers, those talented, knowing fingers plucked at her nipples—“entitled.”

“I like the sound of that.” He hit the automatic locks on the door without taking his mouth off her. She let out a throaty moan, fisted her hands in his shirt, yanked him forward, and kissed him. Kissed him while tugging up his shirt.

No slouch, he unzipped her sweatshirt and slid it off her shoulders, revealing the spaghetti-strapped tank she had beneath. His fingers nudged those straps down as well and then her top was at her waist. Her bra vanished and so did his shirt, and their hands fought for purchase on each other’s zippers, all while they kissed; deep, drugging kisses that exploded her brain cells one at a time, an organized war against rational thought. She had no idea how much more time had gone by when she realized she’d lost her jeans and he had his mouth pressed to her belly. “Unbelievable,” she panted, leaning back in her seat to give him better access. “We’re at it again.”