“Would you say yes?”
Her lips curved. “Don’t know. Depends on how you ask.”
Right. I took a deep breath, but I couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t expose myself to more of Gia until I figured out how I felt about what we’d just done, what I still wanted to do. I was too vulnerable to her. All she’d done was watch me at batting practice, and look what had happened. I’d broken two of my cardinal rules—no sex at work, and no coworker sex at all.
But she was looking at me, her expression tightening the longer I said nothing. I didn’t want to hurt her, but there was no way I was going to do more with her without a game plan of some sort, a way forward that wasn’t a minefield of disasters.
So I said nothing, and in the end, she sighed. “Okay,” she said as she reached for her bra. Gia in motion was a feast for the eyes, and I couldn’t look away. “Might as well get back to work. Tell me how you’re feeling, about your hitting goals, I mean. Does practicing like this hurt your knees?”
I stared at her, my mind so absorbed with the movement of her body that I couldn’t process her words. But when they finally sank in, I gaped at her.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She frowned as she straightened up. “Getting dressed.”
“The questions. Why would you ask me those things?”
Her brows raised. “Because I’m writing the articles on you and need the answers.”
I shook my head. “I can’t answer those questions. Not after this. Not…”
“Not after what? Fun times in the women’s bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“So?”
I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “So I can’t think of you as the press now. You’re in a different place in my brain.” I had these neat categories in my mind, places where people fit: coworker, journalist, girlfriend, family. Gia never stayed where I put her. She was always pushing the boundaries, even in the quiet of my own head. I blamed that stupid, wonderful New Year’s Eve kiss. From that moment on, she’d refused to settle into any one place. Hell, she’d even become part of my pre-game ritual—my lucky charm—even if she had no idea that I had to see her face before I played.
“Too bad.” She stepped into her dress and wriggled it up over her hips. Her breasts were back in the copper lace, but they were still plump, delicious mounds. “I don’t know what this is, Connor. It confuses me, and you’re not explaining.”
Well, that made two of us, because she wasn’t exactly spilling her inner thoughts, either.
“So we’re going to table this encounter,” she continued. “I’m going to file it away in my mind under Awesome. I really liked it, Connor. Though, God knows, I’m not sure what to do about that, you being a teammate and all.”
“Office relationships are a terrible idea,” I said. And yes, we weren’t in the typical office, but the concept still fit. And though there wasn’t a written rule saying we couldn’t fraternize, it was against my personal code of conduct. The idea that we’d be forced into even closer contact made my body tingle, and I wasn’t at all sure I liked it.
“Relationshipsare fine.Romanceis something different.”
I arched a brow. “I think this qualifies as…” I couldn’t even say the word “romance.” We’d just had hot finger-fucking. She waited, clearly expecting me to finish my sentence, and when I didn’t, her lips pursed in a tight frown.
“Don’t stop now, Connor. What is this?”
I swallowed. “You tell me.”
She snorted and whipped her arms around her back as she struggled with the zipper. That, at least, was something I could do. I moved behind her and grabbed the zipper. I even managed to pull it up in a relatively efficient way. But I also couldn’t stop myself from trailing a knuckle up her creamy flesh, or feeling the bump of her shoulder blade and the ripples of her spine. It was her skin, her body, and I was touching it, however briefly.
I heard her breath catch at my caress. Felt her body still and knew that she was stretching up on her toes as if to prolong the moment. And then, at the very top of the zipper, I paused. I wanted to press a kiss to the base of her neck, to lick her there and everywhere else, as I pulled the zipper back down.
There were so many things I wanted, but as I stood there fighting my hunger, she dropped back down onto her heels. And then, a breath later, she stepped back and turned to face me. Her eyes were shrouded, her lips wet and plump as if she’d been chewing on them.
“Gia—” I said, but she cut me off.
“I don’t know what I think about this,” she said. “But I do know what I think about my job. So answer the question, Connor. How do you feel about your hitting average?”
I hated this, and I hated her for forcing me to think about baseball after what we’d just done. Especially when I wanted nothing more than to do it again. With condoms and in a bed.
“I’m not doing this with you,” I said, my voice loud in the bathroom. “Find a different reporter. A male one.”
