Worth the Trade. Kristina Mathews

him at the airport. When she stopped in front of a red Mini Cooper convertible and disabled the alarm, he threw his head back and laughed.

      “What?” She spun around so fast that a few strands of hair shook loose from her uptight hairdo.

      “I just never would have matched you with this car.” It was red. And fast. And kind of sexy in an offbeat sort of way. “I would have pictured you as a BMW, Mercedes or… I don’t know, a Bentley kind of girl.”

      “A Bentley?” She drew her brows together. She was cute. And far too sexy. “Seriously?”

      “I don’t know.” He shrugged. Almost forgetting the vow he’d made to himself. The vow of forgetting her. “It seemed like a good guess. When you’re not riding around in a limo.”

      “It’s fun to drive.” She didn’t really need to defend her vehicle choice, but she did anyway. “Easy to park, and on those really fabulous Northern California days, there’s nothing like driving a convertible up the coast.”

      “But it’s red.” He swept his gaze over her gray pantsuit and ivory blouse and black shoes. Her outfit made the red car seem that much brighter. And it made him wonder even more if she was hiding something. The image of a red lace bra and matching panties popped into his head. He had to shove that thought down deep into his subconscious. He was only asking for trouble by even imagining it.

      “Yes. It’s red.” She placed her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with that?”

      “I was starting to think you were color blind.” He walked around to the back of the car. “Is this open?”

      She opened the tailgate so he could toss his duffel bag inside. She slammed it closed and marched around the front of the car. Great. He’d pissed her off. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe she’d stop trying to help him.

      “Thanks for the ride.” He squeezed himself into the front passenger seat. At six-four, he wasn’t exactly comfortable in the compact car. Another inch and he’d need to ask her to put the top down. “I really do appreciate it.”

      “Yeah. Sure.” She didn’t even look at him as she put the car into reverse. “Sorry it’s not in a Bentley.”

      “Look, I like the car. It’s cute.” He shifted, trying to get comfortable. Trying to keep from putting his foot in his mouth, but that seemed to be the only place it fit.

      “Cute? Huh? What do you drive?”

      “A Mustang.” At least she was still talking to him. “A ’65 classic.”

      “Convertible?”

      “Of course.” Something they actually had in common. They both understood the amazing freedom of hitting the open road with the wind in their hair.

      Hunter laughed as she maneuvered her little car around the city streets. She zipped around obstacles and whipped through traffic like Matt Damon in the Bourne Identity. She seemed to be enjoying herself. Of course, her knees weren’t pressed against her chest and she wasn’t fighting a most unwelcome erection.

      Finally she pulled up in front of his hotel. Marco bit back an invitation for her to join him. He already knew he’d strike out. Again. He’d had enough of that at the plate. So with a heavy heart and too tight jeans, he unfolded himself from the passenger seat. He stretched before he headed around to retrieve his luggage.

      “Aren’t you going to ask me to come up to your room? Join you for a drink? Or something like that?” Hunter rolled down the window and smiled. Was she teasing him?

      “So you can explain to me once again why it would be a bad idea?” He knew she was out of his league. No use continuing to make a fool of himself. “I’ll save us both the trouble, and just say goodnight. And thanks for the ride.”

      “That’s too bad.” She set the parking brake and got out to unlock the back. “I might have said yes this time.”

      She opened the tailgate, pulled his bag out of the cargo area, and handed it to him. He hoisted the strap over his shoulder and stood there like an idiot, watching her get back in her car and drive away.

      Was he supposed to take that as encouragement? Like getting a foul tip instead of a complete swing and miss? Or was she just teasing him? Now that she could see he was giving up.

      It didn’t matter. Either way, he was going up to his room. Alone.

      Until she showed up in his dreams. Now he had even more fuel for his imagination. That sporty little red car revealed a side of her he’d suspected was there all along. A playful, fun, adventurous side. And at least in his dreams, it would be physically possible to get it on in the front seat of her car. In real life, he’d end up on the disabled list if he even tried. They both would.

      * * * *

      Well, that didn’t go as she’d planned. Hunter pulled into her garage, frustrated, embarrassed, and more than a little discouraged. He’d shot her down. No. That wasn’t quite right. He never even gave her a chance. He just gave her a hard time about her car, and then thanked her for the ride.

      She felt like a fool. Here she’d thought he was truly interested in her, only to find out that he was just, what? Flirting? Or was it just that he was so used to women falling at his feet he didn’t know any other way to relate to her?

      At least she hadn’t made an obvious sexual overture. She’d offered him a ride. And if he had asked her to join him in his hotel room, she would have said yes. But would she have been able to laugh it off when he admitted he wasn’t serious?

      At least she didn’t have to find out.

      Everything could just go back to normal. She could concentrate on her team. On making sure she did everything in her power to keep them on track. She could return to her seat behind home plate. She wouldn’t have to suffer through another game up in the luxury suite with Clayton Barry.

      Ugh. The bet. She’d bet ten percent of her ownership share that they’d win the division outright. Ten percent that would make it that much easier for him to wrestle control of the team from her. Marvin Dempsey, the third partner, had always been loyal to her father. A friend even before he’d become a partner. He’d been there for her, too. Helping with funeral arrangements, writing the obituary, and setting up a scholarship fund in her father’s name. But she knew it was business. And if Barry wanted to play hardball, Dempsey would do what was best for his bottom line. He had a family of his own to support. He owed his loyalty to his children and grandchildren.

      She had a feeling he’d be disappointed in her for taking that bet. All because her pride, and her uncontrolled attraction to Marco Santiago, wouldn’t let her admit that she might have given up too much to get Santiago. Maybe he wasn’t the missing piece, after all.

      She needed to find out. Needed to know what really had him so distracted his shoulders crept up around his ears every time he settled into the batter’s box. Gone was the fluid easy swing that she’d coveted for years. Professionally speaking, of course. She had only started wanting him in other ways since meeting him in person. Since feeling his stare. The way he looked her over as if she was the league MVP, batting title, and Gold Glove Award all in one.

      She needed to let it go. She walked into the home she’d grown up in. The mansion that was now hers. It was too big for one person. She could house half the team there, and still have room for company.

      That’s what she needed. To have the players over for a relaxed get-together. She’d invite the single players, and the married guys who didn’t have their families here in California. She’d offer them a chance to relax with their teammates, away from the public eye.

      Her father had always hosted an informal barbecue on off days in the middle of a long home stand. He’d wanted his players to get to know each other off the field and away from clubs and hotel bars. He wanted them to feel a part of something bigger than the game. Wanted them to know they were more than just a business to him.

      She