Read Online Double Play by Jill Shalvis - Free Book Online

his mind wandered as he threw clothes into his bag. Holly was going to be fine. He’d made sure of it before driving her back to her car. He hoped—in spite of her having the most compelling eyes he’d ever had the discomfort of being leveled by, and in spite of that very intriguing hot kiss they’d shared—to never see her again.
    But he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get that lucky. She wanted his secrets, and given that her picture was probably in the dictionary next to tenacious , not to mention stubborn and ornery , she wouldn’t be discouraged by a ball to the forehead.
    She was going to be a pain in his ass, and he knew it. But she was also sharply funny and sharply smart, and damn if when she’d pitted her wits against his, he didn’t forget to feel sorry for himself—something he appeared to have down to a science tonight, thanks to the news from his doctor.
    When his cell phone rang, he considered ignoring it, but the display revealed it was Gage, and it was never smart to ignore the manager. Not if he wanted to play, and he was scheduled for tomorrow. “Hey, Skip.”
    “I hear you clocked a reporter in the head.”
    Pace dropped to his bed and stretched out, staring at the ceiling, picturing Holly and her pretty hair and amazing eyes, and how she’d felt in his arms when he’d scooped her off the grass after taking River’s pitch.
    And then there’d been that kiss . . . “Not exactly. Is she suing or something?”
    “Or something.” Gage was a hands-on TM. He loved the game, he loved the guys, and because of it there was little of the usual management-versus-the-players attitude on the Heat. At thirty-four years old, their “Skipper” as they called him was the youngest MLB team manager in the country and possibly the hardest working, a fact that everyone on the Heat wholeheartedly appreciated. Gage was loyal to a fault, calm at all times, and utterly infallible when it came to supporting the Heat in every possible way, including, apparently, helping one of his players get out of a mess created by his own stupidity. “What the hell happened, man?”
    “It was an accident,” Pace told him. “I took her to the doctor and she checked out. Is she not okay?”
    “You could ask Ty, Joe, and Henry, all of whom she met for dinner. Or better yet, ask her yourself.”
    The guys had probably charmed the hell out of her. And he’d been worried about Wade. “I don’t have her number.”
    “Well lucky for you, I do.”
    Shit. He took the number, then spent a few minutes procrastinating with his TV remote, but when the local anchor questioned Pace’s stats and said he was “getting up there” in age, it was drink a Dr Pepper from his private stash or call Holly. Up there his ass, he thought as he pounded in her number. He was thirty-one. A damn young thirty-one, too—
    Holly answered her phone in a soft, sleep-roughened voice, and he immediately went from pissed off to concerned. “Hey, you shouldn’t be sleeping after a bump to the head.” He shouldn’t have just dumped her off. He should’ve—
    “You paid the doctor bill, Pace,” she said calmly. “You know I’m not concussed. But that you’re worrying like a mother hen is very sweet. And interesting, as I’ve never seen sweet on any of your bios. I’ll have to make sure to put that in any article about you.”
    “I’m just afraid you’re going to sue. How’s that for sweet?”
    “Aw.” She laughed. “You’re so full of shit. I met your teammates tonight. They were great company, full of stories.”
    He just bet.
    “But oddly enough, when I tried to get the scoop on you from them, they all clammed up.”
    “It’s called friendship.”
    “Well, I have to admit, as a reporter, it’s annoying.” Her voice softened. “But as a person? Also incredibly sweet.”
    “So you’re saying the entire team is sweet.” Now he laughed. “Good luck with your credibility if you print that. We’re not exactly known for the