Read Online Curveball by Kate Angell - Free Book Online

interview set up by Rogues publicist Catherine Ambrose a month prior to his suspension. Running late himself, he answered the door wrapped in a navy blue bath towel. His hair was slicked back from his shower and water dripped at his feet. “You’ve got thirty minutes,” he stated at the onset. “What you see is what you get.”
    “I’ll take it.” The redhead with the geometric haircut looked him over with hungry eyes. “Janelle Campbell.” She held out her hand and he gave it a quick shake. “Thanks for inviting me to your home.”
    The invitation had been forced. He hadn’t wanted to sit at the clubhouse and answer her questions following the Rogues’ opening loss. The game had been lost by a wide margin. The hitting sucked. The fielding played like a six-packSunday softball league. Yet their suspension stuck. The Bat Pack sat on the bench.
    The fans were fickle. Many hissed and jeered, while others wore black baseball caps in mourning.
    The locker room vibrated with animosity. Moods had been dark and tempers barely in check. Psycho had punched a metal locker with his fist. He’d needed to get the hell out before he said or did something that would give Guy Powers a reason to extend his suspension.
    “Let’s get started.” He motioned her toward the living room, offered her one of the two green lawn chairs. When he was seated, the towel parted over his splayed thighs.
    Janelle stared at his groin. He wasn’t a modest man, yet Psycho overlapped the ends of his towel. And Janelle averted her gaze. Brushing dog hair from the vinyl chair, she slowly sat down. Sneezing, she confessed, “I’m allergic to fur.”
    Psycho had bought a lock for the dogs’ fenced run. The pups wouldn’t make an appearance unless he or Keely set them free.
    Keely…he’d seen her when he’d first come home, but not since he’d showered. She’d been standing in the entryway with a grizzled man, as old as the Colonial, tape measure stretched between them from the doorway to the stairs. She’d nodded to him as he’d dashed by, but she’d been concentrating on the figures she was jotting in her notebook. Dust had smeared her forehead and forearms. She had ashes from the fireplacesmudged over the knees of her rolled-up jeans. Her flip-flops hadn’t matched. One was teal, the other one yellow.
    “Questions, then a picture.” Janelle twisted low and retrieved a compact tape recorder from her Coach bag. The hem of her gray suede skirt slid up her thighs as she crossed her legs, then fingered the top button of her white silk blouse.
    Psycho sank deeper into his lawn chair and groaned. The day was going downhill fast. The Rogues had lost to the Raptors, and he now faced a pantie-flashing reporter giving him the green light. He wasn’t interested in this woman. He needed to set her straight before she unfastened a second button. The lace on her bra was already visible with each breath.
    “The article.” He drew Janelle’s gaze from his groin.
    “The Top Ten Sexiest Men in Major League Baseball,” she informed him. “America voted, and you placed fourth.”
    “ Fourth?” He frowned, thought about demanding a recount. “Who beat me?”
    “Romeo Bellisaro placed first.”
    No surprise there. Romeo had looks and charm. A mere smile and women dropped their panties.
    “Risk Kincaid came in second.”
    Psycho understood the team captain’s popularity. Risk was a fan’s player. And a family man. Women found monogamy sexy. Psycho, however,equated monogamy with monotony. He bored easily.
    “Chris Collier’s third,” Janelle told him.
    Wimbledon? Had voters lost their minds? The pitcher was a prick. “Fourth sucks,” he grumbled.
    Her gaze lit on his towel once again before she got down to business. Flicking on the tape recorder, she said, “You’ve been described as raw and rude. Undisciplined and unpredictable. You’re a known nudist and will do anything on a dare. Why would America find you sexy?”
    He rolled his