Matt Jackson, Catcher (Bottom of the Ninth #2) Read online

  MATT JACKSON,

  CATCHER

  (Bottom of the Ninth, Book 2)

  Jean Joachim

  Copyright 2016

  Moonlight Books

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  A Moonlight Books Novel

  Sensual Romance

  Matt Jackson, Catcher

  Bottom of the Ninth series

  Copyright © 2016 Jean C. Joachim

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-945360-22-0

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Cover Photographer: Eric McKinney

  Cover Model: Ryan

  Edited by Tabitha Bower

  Proofread by Renee Waring

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2016 by Moonlight Books

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Moonlight Books

  Dedication

  To the great baseball players who made me fall in love with the game, especially the New York Mets and the Yankees. And a tip of the cap to the Chicago Cubs, World Series winners.

  Special Dedication

  To the late Marilyn Reisse Lee,

  my dearest friend.

  Acknowledgment

  Thank you for your support:

  Tabitha Bower, my editor, Renee Waring, my proofreader, Kathleen Ball, Vicki Locey, David Joachim, Steve Joachim, and Larry Joachim.

  Books by Jean C. Joachim

  BOTTOM OF THE NINTH

  DAN ALEXANDER, PITCHER

  JAKE LAWRENCE, THIRD BASEMAN (Coming)

  FIRST & TEN SERIES

  GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK

  GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK (EDIZIONE ITALIANA)

  BUDDY CARRUTHERS, WIDE RECEIVER

  PETE SEBASTIAN, COACH

  DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK

  SLY “BULLHORN” BRODSKY, OFFENSIVE LINE

  AL “TRUNK” MAHONEY, DEFENSIVE LINE

  HARLEY BRENNAN, RUNNING BACK

  OVERTIME, THE FINAL TOUCHDOWN

  A KING’S CHRISTMAS

  THE MANHATTAN DINNER CLUB

  RESCUE MY HEART

  SEDUCING HIS HEART

  SHINE YOUR LOVE ON ME

  TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE

  HOLLYWOOD HEARTS SERIES

  IF I LOVED YOU

  RED CARPET ROMANCE

  MEMORIES OF LOVE

  MOVIE LOVERS

  LOVE’S LAST CHANCE

  LOVERS & LIARS

  His Leading Lady (Series Starter)

  NOW AND FOREVER SERIES

  NOW AND FOREVER 1, A LOVE STORY

  NOW AND FOREVER 2, THE BOOK OF DANNY

  NOW AND FOREVER 3, BLIND LOVE

  NOW AND FOREVER 4, THE RENOVATED HEART

  NOW AND FOREVER 5, LOVE’S JOURNEY

  NOW AND FOREVER, CALLIE’S STORY (prequel)

  MOONLIGHT SERIES

  SUNNY DAYS, MOONLIT NIGHTS

  APRIL’S KISS IN THE MOONLIGHT

  UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON

  MOONLIGHT & ROSES (prequel)

  LOST & FOUND SERIES

  LOVE, LOST AND FOUND

  DANGEROUS LOVE, LOST AND FOUND

  NEW YORK NIGHTS NOVELS

  THE MARRIAGE LIST

  THE LOVE LIST

  THE DATING LIST

  SHORT STORIES

  SWEET LOVE REMEMBERED

  TUFFER’S CHRISTMAS WISH

  THE SECOND-PLACE HEART (Coming)

  THE HOUSE-SITTER’S CHRISTMAS

  Chapter One

  February, Sandy Key, Florida

  Depressed after losing the World Series, Matt needed sunshine, which was in short supply in February in New York. In the weeks before spring training started, he’d agreed to head up a two-week camp for underprivileged kids. Matt wouldn’t be doing it alone some joker, named Dusty Carmichael, from professional softball would partner with him.

  The catcher sniffed. This asshole, Carmichael, was a pitcher. How good could he be playing men’s softball? The guy’s probably a fucking amateur and doesn’t know shit about baseball. It annoyed him to think he’d be running the show with little help from someone who didn’t know crap and was getting paid a bundle. He shook his head. Why did he always get stuck with the losers?

  The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he got. He shouldered his equipment bag and headed for the locker room. He stopped at the stadium entrance and flashed his credentials to the security guard.

  “That guy Carmichael here yet?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  Matt waved him away and continued on. At least the sun was shining. It was seventy-three degrees—perfect weather for baseball. Sure beat the twenty degree, cloudy day he’d left in New York the morning before. Arriving an hour ahead of time, he whistled as he strolled along. Matt had a thing about being late and showed up early to most everything.

  He waved at the janitor as he pushed open the locker room door.

  “You can’t…”

  But Matt didn’t hear the rest. He looked up to see beautiful, long auburn locks hanging down from the head of a woman, who was dressed only in panties. She was bending over, brushing her hair, so he couldn’t see her face, and she couldn’t see him. At the click of the door closing, she snapped up straight, whipping her tresses back, so that they fell down her back and revealed the most gorgeous breasts he’d ever seen.

  Her eyes widened. “Get out! Get out!”

  Matt froze, his gaze locked on her chest before he realized what he was doing. He covered his eyes with his hand and backed toward the exit. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a woman in here.”

  “Big fat lie, asshole. Get out!”

  He peeked through his fingers, but the previous view was covered by her bare arms. He still managed to take in a middle with some ab definition and long, slender legs. Her white panties were almost see-through. Almost.

  “Get out!”

  With one hand, she rifled a gym bag at him, scoring a direct hit. Reaching behind his back, he found the door handle and was in the hall in a flash. Heat ran up his chest, to his neck and his face. The woman was stunning. He didn’t know if his flush was from sexual excitement or embarrassment. Maybe both.

  He opened his cell and dialed the Nighthawk’s general manager, Barker Garland, known affectionately as Bark.

  “Hey, Bark. There’s a naked woman in the locker room. What the hell’s going on?”

>   “Where are you?”

  “In Florida.”

  “Must be your camp partner.”

  “Dusty Carmichael?” Matt’s eyebrows rose.

  “Yeah. That’s her.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me she was a girl?”

  “I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “Well, it sure as hell mattered when I walked in on her.”

  Matt didn’t appreciate the guffaws on the other end.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “I guess formal introductions aren’t necessary, now,” Bark said, as he burst into another round of laughter.

  “Hilarious. I have to work with this woman. She probably thinks I’m a rapist.”

  “Maybe a voyeur, Matt.”

  “Like that’s actually better?”

  “You’ll figure it out. Hey, it’s Saturday. I’m going to brunch with the wife. Handle it. Win her over. I know you can.”

  Matt put his phone in his back pocket. “Wonderful.” How the hell was he going to dig his way out of this one?

  “Hey!” A feminine voice captured his attention.

  He turned to see the previously-naked woman dressed in a baseball uniform, her luxurious hair tucked neatly under a cap. Except for the lipstick, her curvy figure—not well hidden by the uniform—and the absence of five o’clock shadow, she could have been a guy.

  “Do you always walk in on women dressing?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You said that. Several times.”

  “I didn’t know you were a woman.”

  She chuckled. “I guess you do now.”

  The heat in his face intensified. “What I meant to say was that I didn’t know Dusty Carmichael was a woman.”

  She said. “Yeah, I’ve gotten that before.”

  “Did your parents name you Dusty?”

  “Nope. Desiree. But my brother nicknamed me Dusty, and it stuck.”

  “Matt Jackson. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, and she shook it. Incredibly nice. The image of her half-naked flashed through his brain. “I hope you’re not going to hold that error against me.”

  “Just don’t do it again.”

  “No way. I promise. I’ll knock, next time,” he said, holding up his palms. “We don’t get many women in the locker room.”

  She laughed. “I can see that.”

  “You’re here early.”

  “You too,” she countered.

  “I hate being late.”

  “I figured I might as well shower here as at home,” she said.

  He nodded. “You’re a pitcher?”

  “Yep. Number one in my league.”

  That impressed him. In fact, everything about her impressed him.

  * * * *

  Is he a pervert or just a jackass? She stared at him through narrowed eyes. Not bad. Tall enough. Nice hair. Good body. She checked him out, keeping the frown on her face. “What position do you play?”

  “Catcher.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You catch Dan Alexander?”

  “Yep.” Matt shifted his weight.

  “He’s a hunk.”

  “He’s taken,” Matt said, frowning.

  “The good ones always are,” she muttered. One glance at Matt confirmed she’d said the wrong thing.

  “Have you ever done this before?”

  “Nope. I thought maybe you had,” she replied.

  “First time for me too,” Matt said.

  They stood for a moment in silence.

  She shrugged. “Guess that means there are no rules to break.”

  He glanced at his watch. “The kids’ll be here soon.”

  Dusty looked at hers. “We’ve got half an hour. How do you want to work this?”

  “We’ll have to set it up.” He plucked something from the breast pocket of his sports jacket.

  “Works for me.”

  “Here’s a copy of the roster,” he said, handing her a piece of paper.

  She reached into her back pocket. “I had a couple of ideas about a schedule.” He moved closer. His scent, obviously fresh from a shower, teased her nose. Damn, he smells good.

  He started walking, and she fell in with his step. He studied the roster. “Guess you can’t tell from the names who’s a boy and who’s a girl.”

  She laughed. “Guess not. Does it matter?”

  “We’re not going to give the same training to the girls as the boys.”

  A smidgeon of anger entered her system. She tamped it down. “Why not? The game is the same for both.”

  “You’re softball. I’m baseball. Boys play baseball, and girls play softball. Big difference.”

  “Really? Have you ever played softball?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then, maybe you’d better keep your mouth shut. The game is the same. The drills are the same. The ball is the only thing that’s different.”

  “Easier, softer—for girls, ya know?”

  The desire to slap him reared up in her. She moved away. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be a chauvinist pig.”

  “I’m not a chauvinist pig. I just don’t want any of the girls to get hurt.”

  She straightened her spine. “Don’t worry about the girls. Just make sure to wear your cup. Wouldn’t want you to get hit anywhere you might be vulnerable.” She increased her stride and beat him to the entrance. She jogged slowly in place, waiting for him.

  Dusty cocked an eyebrow when he caught up. “What took you so long?”

  Matt grabbed her upper arm. “Look. We have to work together. Sniping is only going to make things harder. I’m sorry if you took my words the wrong way…”

  “I didn’t take them any way. That’s the way you said it.”

  “Okay then. I misspoke. I’m sorry.”

  “Have you noticed that you keep apologizing?”

  His lips flattened into a thin line. “You’re hypersensitive.”

  “Am not!” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Let’s warm up. Let me catch you. See what you can do.” He sighed.

  “Why, so you can pass judgment on me? Tell me I throw like a girl?”

  He laughed. “Would you rather I tell you you throw like a boy? Come on, let’s go,” he said, taking her elbow.

  She jerked her arm away from him, ignoring the tingle caused by his touch.

  “Did you bring a softball?”

  “Right here,” she said, pulling one out of her glove.

  Matt opened his equipment bag.

  “Are you gonna catch me in that?” She gestured to his khakis and sports jacket.

  He glanced down at his street clothes. “Oops. Be right back.”

  “Can I watch?” she teased.

  “If you want to,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows as he backed toward the locker room.

  She sensed color in her cheeks. He was just as sassy as she. This wasn’t going the way she’d expected. She plopped down on a bench and massaged the ball with her hands. Her brow furrowed as she wondered how she’d get through the next two weeks.

  Before ten minutes were up, he returned.

  She jolted upright. He was magnificent in his black pinstriped uniform. Hot damn! She swallowed. He seemed to have grown four inches. He was attired as a professional ball player. His sexy presence filled her sight, and her body reacted.

  “What?” he asked, raising his brows.

  She gulped a little air. “Nothing.”

  He clearly didn’t buy it and gave her a quizzical stare. “Really?”

  “You. Uh, you. You look great.”

  “In this old rag?” he said, pulling the sides of his pants out to look like a skirt and laughing.

  She giggled.

  “Dan’s taken, but I’m not.”

  Realizing he’d seen through her façade, she lowered her gaze.

  “How about you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Single.” When she raised her eyes, he was smiling.

  “Maybe we’
d better get started.” He put on his face mask and glove and loped over to home plate. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  She pushed to her feet, adjusted her cap, and marched to the mound. She took a deep breath and prayed her legs would hold. Oh no, this camp shit was nothing like she’d expected at all.

  Focus, girl! Be professional. She dug a toe in the dirt and took several breaths, releasing the air through her mouth. She flexed her arm a couple of times, shook it out, and then got her concentration going. Dusty narrowed her eyes, pinpointing her focus on his glove.

  She fired in an underhand pitch, satisfied with where it went and the sound of the thwack when it hit his mitt.

  “Not bad. A little high. Bring it down,” Matt called.

  She raised her eyebrows. “What the hell?”

  “What?”

  She ran down off the mound to the plate, her chin jutting out. “Who said you could tell me what to do?”

  “Well, pardon me. I thought a little advice from a major-league catcher might be welcome. I guess I was wrong. Little Miss Perfect doesn’t need any coaching from big, bad All-Star Matt Jackson.”

  The anger drained from her like air from a punctured balloon. “I, I, I’m sorry.”

  “Now, who’s apologizing?”

  “I mean. I didn’t think. I guess.”

  “No, you didn’t think. Go on. Back to the mound. I’ll keep my mouth shut,” he said, resuming his crouch and lifting his glove.

  Dusty tapped his shoulder. Her fingertips felt the hardness of the muscle underneath.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I could use some professional advice. Please let’s try again. The pitch was too high?”

  “You just missed the box. Bring it down an inch, even half, and you’ll nick the corner.”

  She nodded and sprinted back to the rubber.

  Dusty pitched, and Matt critiqued. When she got it right, he shouted “great!” Pitch after pitch, his advice was spot on.

  Before she could wind up for a tenth one, a raft of kids, accompanied by parents, came through the entrance. Her private time with Matt Jackson was over. She wondered why that made her sad.