What A Girl Wants (16 page)

She looked up at him in surprise and blushed. “Oh. Sure. Which part?”

His eyebrow went up. “Well, the part where you and I almost had sex within spitting distance of your colleagues.”

“There's a visual for you,” Hayley said, and laughed again.

“Is there anything about that day you want to talk about?”

“Not especially,” she admitted. “It was, um, not an incident I've come to regret, actually.”

“Me neither,” he replied with a grin.

Hayley smiled back. Things were taking a turn for the better. Much better. “Well, then I guess that's all there is to say about it. But if we're clearing the air, do you want to tell me what you were doing at Fred's memorial service?”

He shrugged. “I'd kind of written you off because of the unique circumstances of our first meeting, but I was . . . intrigued, say, by what happened. I actually called you at work but you'd already quit, and they weren't keen on giving me your home phone.”

“You went to the memorial service to find me.” Hayley grinned. “Cool.”

Nodding, Grant said, “Even then I wasn't sure how you felt about the whole thing. You seemed mostly interested in persuading me you weren't a murderer, but I figured, what the hell, I'll give you a call.”

“And here we are,” Hayley said. “By the way, in the interest of full disclosure, since we
are
being extremely frank here, I didn't quit. I got fired.”

“I know. They told me. I was trying to be nice.”

She shook her head and laughed, then excused herself and went to the bathroom to freshen up for the baseball game.

Actually, not too much damage had been done over the course of the meal. Hayley scrunched her hair a little more, then pulled a travel toothbrush and mini-toothpaste out of her purse. When she bent over the sink to brush her teeth and opened her mouth, the first thing she saw was a wad of lettuce stuck between the two teeth just left of center.

In shock, she just stared at the lettuce for a moment, then quickly gargled and washed it out. Gone.
Now
, it was gone.

Salad was the first course. It was the
first
course!
Oh, God
. Hayley swung her head down and stared into the sink. Just when she was feeling
good
about things.

Why did dating have to be so complicated? If the salad had been lodged in her teeth since the first course, it had been there for something like an hour. She'd talked, smiled, laughed . . . had the lettuce been there the whole time and he hadn't said anything?

What kind of a guy would put a girl through that on a first date? No, Grant wouldn't do that, would he? In spite of the embarrassment factor, he'd told her about her skirt in the employee kitchen, hadn't he? Maybe guys didn't take the food-in-the-teeth thing as seriously as women did. But obviously he
had
to know she would see it at some point.

Was it some kind of a power trip? Was he trying to keep her off balance again? What a jerk! Of course, it wasn't impossible that the lettuce had spent the majority of the hour in a back molar
somewhere and had jostled to the front only recently. But really, how likely was that?

All those stupid things she'd said over dinner . . . since she'd met him, in fact. But then why was he being so nice about it all? “I don't like boring women.”
Yeah, right. Talk about a line.

Hayley glared at herself in the mirror. Maybe he was just pretending to like her, pretending to be having fun because he knew there was a baseball game still to get through. It wasn't like Hayley had never pretended to have a good time before, just to be polite, and then made it clear much later that she wasn't interested.

Her confidence shaken, Hayley finished brushing her teeth, reapplied her lipstick, and went back to the table.

Grant looked at his watch. “We have time for some dessert, if you're interested.”

Hayley was on the fence about that one. Frankly, escape was the more appealing option. But he'd bought tickets to a baseball game and it would just be too rude to bail out.

Besides, if things were that irredeemable, she might as well pork out on dessert. No point in worrying about appearances. She had an excellent metabolism, anyway. “Dessert would be great,” she said glumly. She pointed to the dessert card propped up in the center of the table. “I'll have Death by Chocolate.”

• • •

For some reason that Hayley was unable to explain, Grant seemed totally unfazed by anything that had transpired at the restaurant. He gave no sign of enjoying any power-tripping that may have resulted from the implementation of a Lettuce Humiliation Scheme. In fact, in the car on the way to the baseball stadium, he didn't act
in the least like he wished he could simply open the passenger door and push the seat release.

Even stranger, after they'd parked and entered the stadium, Grant took her hand and held it as they wove through the crowd, all the way to the beer vendor. Since he was also holding a baseball mitt, Hayley couldn't read anything into it when he had to let go of her to pay for and carry the beer.

She surreptitiously glanced up at him as they circled the inside of the stadium toward their section. He appeared completely at ease. Hayley, on the other hand, was totally confused and filling up with an embarrassing amount of what she could only think of as “stupid joy.”

Why had she wasted so much of the dinner obsessing and worrying? The chemistry was still there. It was definitely still there. The hand he'd held was tingling so much, it was practically numb.

“The seats are low on the first-base side,” he said, holding up his mitt as they walked out into the stands and down the aisle toward their seats.

Hayley wasn't too sure about the significance of that statement, so she just smiled and sat down where he indicated. “I've got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Is this a test?” she asked.

“Is what a test?”

“This baseball game.”

He froze for only a second, then put the beers in the cup holders and tossed the tray under his seat. Then he looked at Hayley, giving her his full attention, a huge grin on his face. “What gave it away?”

“You manipulative bastard,” Hayley said, laughing, feeling truly
relaxed for the first time all evening. “My friends guessed. What kind of test are we talking about here?”

He took a sip of beer. “It's an old classic. I'm testing for the ‘Baseball Trick.' ”

“The Baseball Trick? Do go on.”

Grant shook his head in mock-disbelief that she'd busted him on it. “The Baseball Trick. When a woman wants to get a guy to fall for her, she pretends to love baseball in order to trick the guy into spending nine innings a pop in her company every game he has tickets for, until his defenses are so low and he's so lulled into the familiarity of her company that he begins to think of her as his girlfriend and suddenly she is. That's the Baseball Trick.”

“That's the Baseball Trick,” Hayley echoed in a teasing tone.

He shrugged. “Yep. I was curious to see what your reaction would be to the game.”

“That's incredibly pathetic, mildly disgusting, and downright insulting. I can't believe you would suggest such a thing,” she said sternly.

She was just joking, but he actually looked a little worried for a moment, so Hayley took pity on him and smiled. “But I'll take it as a compliment. The fact is, I don't know enough about baseball to pretend I like it. But I'm enjoying myself now, anyway.”

“I'm glad,” he said, and put his arm around her shoulders.

Hayley sucked in a quick breath, and settled in.

For the next couple hours they watched the game. He kept his arm around her shoulders, all the while pointing out the players on the field and explaining the intricacies of baseball strategy.

Diane had guessed the game was a test of some sort. Hayley wished she'd asked some questions back then, because if anybody knew about strategies like the Baseball Trick it was Diane.

Suz and Audra were better at suggesting strategies for women to implement, but Diane was better at analyzing strategies put forth by men. Among the three of them, they would undoubtedly have a couple of suggestions to make regarding the Baseball Trick and how to properly implement said manipulation.

Too late now, though. Grant already knew she didn't know a thing about baseball. . . and he knew what to look for. Not to mention, Hayley wasn't in the mood for manipulation. Not with this guy, anyway. The problem was, she liked him more than she thought she would. She wanted much more from him than just hot sex, though that was still imperative.

Grant pointed to her empty beer cup. “Would you like another beer? I know I could use one.”

“Sure.”

“I'll be right back.” He tossed her his mitt. “Watch out for those foul balls.”

Hayley watched him climb up the aisle, and then when he disappeared into the concession area, she turned back around and put the mitt on her hand. It was enormous. And it was warm from his hand, which made her stomach flip-flop.

It was kind of fun, this baseball thing. Nothing wrong with baseball, nothing at all. She could
totally
imagine herself as the girlfriend of a baseball fan, no problem.

Spending warm nights drinking beer and watching the game in the temperate San Francisco breeze, spending cold nights drinking coffee while huddled with her loved one beneath a stadium blanket.

Hayley stuck out her gloved hand experimentally, pretending to catch a ball on her right side, then on her left. She was so caught up in the fantasy of being a baseball wife that she was hardly cognizant of the guy next to her saying something about a line drive.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asked pleasantly, looking up from the mitt.

“Look out!” he yelled, and lunged toward her.

Hayley recoiled in horror as three hundred pounds of large, orange-garbed male came at her. Grant's mitt fell off her hand. A hot dog catapulted into the air from somewhere in front. Arms reached out on all sides. Baseball caps tumbled from heads, and beers, jostled from their cup holders, spilled down the steps.

When she turned to look at whatever it was that had everyone in such a state, a large white blob appeared before her very eyes. It seemed to hover and bob in space a few rows ahead, growing larger and larger . . . flying closer and closer . . .

Hayley blinked. “Holy shit!”

She threw her arms up across her face as protection and tried to duck down when the guy in the seat in front of her lost his nerve and retracted his mitt.

Through the crook of her elbow she saw the round white missile homing in on them all. She squeezed her eyes shut. The seconds before impact seemed like minutes.

No! No! No! Not when everything was starting to go so well!
This was so ill-timed, Hayley couldn't believe it. How many times over the last few weeks had she prayed to be delivered into a vegetative state by having her head bashed in by a solid object moving at high speed? But
not now
!

A terrible pain shot through her left hand, and before she could react, the giant orange man toppled over, slamming her to the cement between the rows in front of her seat.

“Is it halftime?” Hayley asked him before passing out.

“H
ayley? Talk to me. Say something. It's me, Grant.”

Hayley could feel him stroking her hair. He was holding her right hand; her left hand hurt.

“Hayley, you're worrying me.” Grant put the back of his hand against her cheek and Hayley swallowed, enjoying the sensation of his skin against hers. There didn't seem to be much to be gained by waking up, that was for sure.

“There you go, you're waking up now. You just swallowed. That's a girl.”

Damn.
Hayley opened her eyes a crack. “ 'Lo.” God, he was cute. And he was looking at her with wide-eyed concern as he stroked her hair and her cheek.

He murmured her name, and then ran his hands down both of her arms, then both of her legs.
Oh. Foreplay! Excellent.
Hayley sighed ecstatically. He said something about “everything else seems okay,” which she didn't quite understand, but since he kept moving his hands all over her body and didn't seem to be looking for an answer, she figured it didn't matter.

Whatever had happened, it was worth it. As long as she was physically capable of taking full advantage of him. Hayley wanted him. Badly. And here she was horizontal. All the prerequisites fulfilled. She licked her lips and sighed again, a deep, throaty sigh. Grant's touch was so . . . erotic. And she hadn't been qualified to use the word “erotic” in a long, long time.

She could hear the sound of her own breathing coming in little shallow pants as he took her head in his hands and ran his fingers through her hair again, gently pressing along her temples and then smoothing a hand over the crown of her head.

“Hey, hey!” Grant called over his shoulder. “I think she's having trouble breathing.”

Oh, shit.
They weren't alone.

Some woman put her head next to Grant's, the two looking down at her from the bird's-eye view. Grant looked at the woman, which made Hayley immediately jealous. She narrowed her eyes at both of them.

“I checked her for any other thumps on the head and bone breaks. She seems fine, but then it seemed like she was having trouble breathing,” Grant said.

“Hmm, let me do a quick check for internal injuries,” the woman said. “I understand a large man fell on her spleen.”

Just my luck. Look, sister, the only internal injury I'm dealing with here is an irregular heartbeat caused by your interruption.

The woman manhandled Hayley without a word and finally cleared her and left.

Hayley struggled to sit up. “See, I'm fine. I can breathe.”

Grant wouldn't let her sit up. “Just stay down for a little longer, okay?”

Hayley looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings and then
yielded to the pressure of his hand pushing her back down on the cot. “Where am I?”

“We're still at the game. In First Aid. How do you feel?”

Hayley thought about it for a moment while she stared up at him. “My left wrist aches a little and so does my head. But it's not really terrible or anything.” She looked at her left hand. It was bandaged.

“I'm pretty sure it's just bruised, but I had her wrap it up just as a precaution,” Grant said. “Wanted to keep the wrist immobile for a little longer.”

Hayley wrinkled her forehead. “What happened?”

“Apparently a pretty serious line drive went foul and glanced off your hand. The only reason you went unconscious was because the spectator to your right fell on you. If you hadn't put your hands up, it would have been your face, though.” He swiped his thumb slowly across her lower lip.

“Jesus,” Hayley whispered.
Do that again.

“Yeah, I know.” He frowned and added, “Maybe I shouldn't have left you. I should have just waited for the beer vendor.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Most people don't get personal protection in the stands. I don't know why I should get special treatment just because you happen to be in law enforcement.”

He laughed and said, “True. But people
have
been killed by getting hit in the head by a baseball. Sad, but true.”

“The ball wouldn't have killed me. It was that guy. Death by giant orange male. The foreign tourists would probably think it was part of the ballpark entertainment. The last thing I'd hear would be the mournful ringing of that cable-car bell up above center field, and the last thing I'd see would be the replay of the incident and an image of my broken body projected up on the Jumbotron for all to see. Tragic.”

“You're starting to sound like yourself again. What is it with you and this death obsession? It's morbid . . . but oddly appealing,” Grant murmured.

He slowly moved his thumb back and forth over her lower lip again. “I think death turns you on. You only wear black. You ordered Death by Chocolate for dessert. You have . . . how should I say this. . . interesting and not altogether undesirable reactions around corpses.”

“I could ask you the same question. You always seem to show up when there's a corpse around.” Her voice shook a little, but she didn't care. As long as he kept looking at her that way.

“Well, I'm a police detective. The corpses come with the job.” And then just like that, he leaned down and kissed her.

Hayley had no time to prepare or analyze, because there it was. It started out sort of tender, probably because she'd been injured and he didn't want to hurt her. But Hayley put her good arm around his neck and pulled him closer, made him kiss her harder.

Oh, wow, oh, wow. Whatever you do, don't stop now.

Someone in the room coughed politely, and Grant pulled away and looked over his shoulder. The First Aid woman. Hayley rolled her eyes.

“Just kissing it and making it better,” Grant said, then looked back down at Hayley and winked.

Oh, the wink! Divine.

“Well, if it's better now, perhaps you should be getting her home.” The woman stepped forward and handed Grant a baseball, pointing to a scrawled signature on the white leather. “He said he was sorry and he'd try to hit 'em straight next time.”

She disappeared again and Grant looked back at Hayley. “You sure you're okay?”

“I'm really fine,” she protested, starting to feel a little panicky that he'd decide for her own good that he should end the evening early and just take her home.

“You're fine?” he repeated.

“I'm really fine. My wrist aches just a teeny tiny bit. I don't even have a headache anymore. I'm really, really fine.”

“How fine is fine?” He paused for a moment, then grabbed her by the collar of her sweater and kissed her hard.

For a minute Hayley thought she might not be fine after all. Her head started to swim. Just his fingers on the back of her neck made her feel warm all over.

And then he pulled away, and the two of them stared at each other, wild-eyed. “You know, I think you said earlier you had a thing for honesty,” he said. “Well, here's something for you to chew on.”

It was Hayley's turn to be nervous. Jesus, what if he had some sort of transmittable disease? She hadn't really prepared for something along those lines. “Yeah?”

“My intentions aren't honorable. I have things in mind.”

Hayley clutched at a fistful of his shirt. “Things?” she said hoarsely.

“That's right. After-dinner things. Post–baseball game things.” Grant played with a wayward lock of her hair. “So. That being said, should I take you home, or would you like to see the Renoir in my bedroom?”

“Only if it's from his pre-Impressionist period,” Hayley answered happily.

“Good. Because you've gotten a little tense again.” He pulled her hand off his shirt. “We'll have to do something about that.” He helped her up and put his jacket around her shoulders.

Hayley leaned into him, smiling like a lunatic. Thank God something was working the way it was supposed to.

• • •

Grant parked the car in his apartment parking lot, then jumped out and was at Hayley's door in a second. He seemed to be in a big hurry for a guy who normally acted so casual, so calm. Hayley smiled to herself. That's right, he
wanted
her.

A guy with his own parking spot wanted her.
Nice.

Grant slammed the car door shut, grabbed Hayley's purse and put it over her shoulder, then lifted her up, face-to-face, so that she had to wrap her legs around his waist to hang on. He leaned her back against the SUV and started to kiss her neck, his hands snaking under her skirt.

Hayley's body had a good memory, at least, and it remembered everything about the first time they'd gotten together in her cube at work. She was ready to go in no time and only mildly concerned about the fact that they were taking care of the foreplay in a public parking lot.

He must have had the same thought at some point. Hayley had no idea how they got into his apartment with him still carrying her like that, since she didn't think he could actually see where he was going. But there they were; he was kicking the door shut with his foot and carrying her over to what she assumed was his living room sofa.

He must have been inspired by the almost delirious “game over” look on her face, because with a complete lack of finesse, Grant just went nuts.

It was a gung-ho, no-holds-barred, totally aggressive play. Exactly what Hayley needed. And she was pretty confident that he wasn't just blindly lusting every which way but loose, because he seemed to have her name on his mind, grunting and moaning it until it turned into a rhythm. Quite flattering, actually.

And this next part was so cool. Hayley would have been more than willing to conduct the entire event right there on the sofa, seeing as how it would meet the requirement of being a horizontal situation, but Grant obviously viewed it as a mere halfway point.

He picked her up again and carried her into his bedroom, pulled down the sheets with one hand, and tossed her roughly on the bed. And now the clothes were coming off in that random pulling-and-tugging-and-landing-inside-out sort of way.

All of a sudden he pulled back and said, “I don't mean to kill the mood, but do you have a condom?”

Hayley sat up and used a pillow to cover her top. Unfair question! If she said yes, it was equivalent to wearing sexy underwear—the expectation would be obvious. If she said no, there might very well be no sex, and that was unacceptable at this point.

Why the hell didn't
he
have one? Of course, it was sort of sweet, because it meant he didn't think she was a slam-dunk. But what if it was more like he hadn't really gotten around to deciding if he wanted to sleep with her or not, but now that she'd made it clear she was ready to go, he figured he might as well? That was not a flattering concept.

Well, she was pretty sure she had one. Hopefully it wasn't expired.
Ha-ha.
But better not to commit right this second. Keep it unclear. “I don't know.” Hayley tried her best to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Don't you have any?”

“I hope one of us does.” He opened up the little drawer of his side table and rummaged around. “Damn. I must have used them up.”

Used them up? You sex maniac. You dirty dog. You stud muffin. You egomaniac. Ha-ha. Jesus Christ.

This, right here, was the trouble with condoms. Hayley was all ready to bail, but then he looked at her and said, “I'm so sorry about this,” and he seemed to be extremely disconcerted. Hayley's poor, underexercised little heart just went pitter-patter. “No problem. If you wouldn't mind getting it for me, there might be one in my purse.”

He pulled on a robe that was hanging off his closet doorknob and retrieved Hayley's purse from the living room.

She stuck her hand in her purse and fished around in the bottom.
What's this? Oh, my God.
“Um, I think we're . . . covered. That friend of mine, Suz . . .” She pulled out a fistful of condoms of every imaginable variety. “Never mind.”

Grant cocked his head and shook it, smiling. “All right, then, where were we?” He stripped the robe off and got back under the covers.

The pace picked up again and Hayley managed to find that nice, blurry place in her head where she didn't have to concentrate. That was, until he asked her a question.

“What's this?”

It was more of a rhetorical question, actually. Hayley blushed as he moved down her body and licked the tiny black daisy tattoo just above her pelvic bone.

“I like this,” he said. “What do
you
like?”

What do I like?
The question threw her. “I don't know,” she answered breathlessly. “Just do whatever . . . you do.”
Don't ask me that. Just take charge of this.

And he did. It didn't take Hayley long to figure out that this was no college fuck. This was a serious fuck, and that realization seemed to change everything. Grant knew what he was doing . . . and he was doing it extremely well.

Which was why Hayley started to overthink the situation. He was taking his time. He was making it as much about her as it was about him. She wasn't used to accomplished sex.