Read Online Throwing Heat: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel by Jennifer Seasons - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Seasons
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She was about to disconnect and then remembered. “Wait! Have you heard anything about my apartment? Has Jerry called you with an update? I was hoping to move back in this weekend.”
There was a shuffling and what sounded like a garage door opening. “Not that I know of. I’ll double-check my phone when I get a chance, but don’t hold your breath. I’ve been preoccupied.”
Leslie did have to give him that. Playing ball for a living kept the guy busy, especially in the postseason. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She reached for her gym bag and retrieved it from the back seat. “I don’t want to impose for longer than absolutely necessary.” The line went quiet. “Are you still there?” she asked as she climbed out of her car.
Peter sighed softly and finally relented, saying quietly, “You’re not an imposition, Leslie.”
The breath froze in her chest. How was she supposed to respond to that? Wiping a hand on her cropped black yoga pants, Leslie chose to ignore his comment. “Um, okay, well I’m going now. I’ll talk to you later.”
Hanging up, Leslie shoved the phone back in her purse and opened the studio door. Once inside she glanced around and noted that she was just in time. About a dozen women milled about in various workout getups, and she particularly liked the mini-shorts and legwarmers look. How very Footloose . Somebody remind her again why the eighties were making a comeback?
The music changed and went lusty. Her class was about to start.
Slipping into the room and dropping her stuff, she waved to some of the other regular girls and kicked off her shoes. “Hey, y’all.” Unlike most of the other women in her class she wore neither mini-shorts nor stripper heels. She needed the cushion from the fabric on the back of her knees for pole work and the heels, well, just no way. She wanted to keep her ankles unbroken and in good health, thank you very much. It was hard enough just walking in them some nights.
Quickly grabbing an open pole, Leslie caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full-length mirrors on the front wall. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun to keep the strands out of her face when she twirled and she had on a dark pink workout tank top along with her yoga crops. Giving a little shimmy to loosen up, she studied herself and approved.
She looked good. All these pole dancing classes had paid off and her body was nice and firm. Curvy as a Roman statue, but toned and healthy and strong. Leslie knew she packed a punch and liked it that way.
Skinny was so overrated.
With a slight smile she gave a little booty shake. Some junk in the trunk was where all the fun was at. More cushion for the pushin’.
The Pussycat Dolls began to play on the radio, being uber-sexy and singing about loosening buttons with Snoop Dogg. Following the lead instructor, Leslie went through the warm-up routine and then settled into the fun and vigorous workout. Enjoying herself, she swung her legs up and spun on the pole, lowering backward with every whirl until she was upside-down. She was breathing heavy when her spin and the song came to an end, but she had a huge grin on her face. Leslie Cutter, stripper at large. Watch your men, ladies.
Totally amused with herself, she was giggling a little when she came to a complete stop, her upside-down head facing the door. Her eyes focused and the giggle lodged in her chest. A pair of scuffed up black skater shoes and frayed jeans blocked her vision. Shit. She knew those Vans.
Kowalskin.
Annoyance welled up inside her along with a healthy dose of the butterflies. He’d found her. She couldn’t believe he’d actually been serious about that.
Still panting, Leslie flipped upright and dislodged from the pole. Her heart was pounding and her blood was racing, but that was from the striptease routine, not the hard-bodied man standing by the door currently staring her down with ice-blue eyes full of bad intentions. The half smirk and cocked hip sent alarm bells
There was a shuffling and what sounded like a garage door opening. “Not that I know of. I’ll double-check my phone when I get a chance, but don’t hold your breath. I’ve been preoccupied.”
Leslie did have to give him that. Playing ball for a living kept the guy busy, especially in the postseason. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She reached for her gym bag and retrieved it from the back seat. “I don’t want to impose for longer than absolutely necessary.” The line went quiet. “Are you still there?” she asked as she climbed out of her car.
Peter sighed softly and finally relented, saying quietly, “You’re not an imposition, Leslie.”
The breath froze in her chest. How was she supposed to respond to that? Wiping a hand on her cropped black yoga pants, Leslie chose to ignore his comment. “Um, okay, well I’m going now. I’ll talk to you later.”
Hanging up, Leslie shoved the phone back in her purse and opened the studio door. Once inside she glanced around and noted that she was just in time. About a dozen women milled about in various workout getups, and she particularly liked the mini-shorts and legwarmers look. How very Footloose . Somebody remind her again why the eighties were making a comeback?
The music changed and went lusty. Her class was about to start.
Slipping into the room and dropping her stuff, she waved to some of the other regular girls and kicked off her shoes. “Hey, y’all.” Unlike most of the other women in her class she wore neither mini-shorts nor stripper heels. She needed the cushion from the fabric on the back of her knees for pole work and the heels, well, just no way. She wanted to keep her ankles unbroken and in good health, thank you very much. It was hard enough just walking in them some nights.
Quickly grabbing an open pole, Leslie caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full-length mirrors on the front wall. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun to keep the strands out of her face when she twirled and she had on a dark pink workout tank top along with her yoga crops. Giving a little shimmy to loosen up, she studied herself and approved.
She looked good. All these pole dancing classes had paid off and her body was nice and firm. Curvy as a Roman statue, but toned and healthy and strong. Leslie knew she packed a punch and liked it that way.
Skinny was so overrated.
With a slight smile she gave a little booty shake. Some junk in the trunk was where all the fun was at. More cushion for the pushin’.
The Pussycat Dolls began to play on the radio, being uber-sexy and singing about loosening buttons with Snoop Dogg. Following the lead instructor, Leslie went through the warm-up routine and then settled into the fun and vigorous workout. Enjoying herself, she swung her legs up and spun on the pole, lowering backward with every whirl until she was upside-down. She was breathing heavy when her spin and the song came to an end, but she had a huge grin on her face. Leslie Cutter, stripper at large. Watch your men, ladies.
Totally amused with herself, she was giggling a little when she came to a complete stop, her upside-down head facing the door. Her eyes focused and the giggle lodged in her chest. A pair of scuffed up black skater shoes and frayed jeans blocked her vision. Shit. She knew those Vans.
Kowalskin.
Annoyance welled up inside her along with a healthy dose of the butterflies. He’d found her. She couldn’t believe he’d actually been serious about that.
Still panting, Leslie flipped upright and dislodged from the pole. Her heart was pounding and her blood was racing, but that was from the striptease routine, not the hard-bodied man standing by the door currently staring her down with ice-blue eyes full of bad intentions. The half smirk and cocked hip sent alarm bells
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