“It’s excellent. Lorenzo is all mine now.”

“Ah, so evil Leather Pants Poacher didn’t nab him?”

I scoff. “No way. I’m still the man. And your new biz is taking off?”

“Started some of my new work this week. Maybe I’ll even write a piece about etiquette when invited to a fancy suite at a ball game. Like, may I please devour all the mushroom canapés?”

“Do you even know what a canapé is?”

“Does anyone know what a canapé is?”

“No one does. Also, I’m glad you figured out your lady issues and your work issues. Like I said, work isn’t everything.” I tap my ear. “See? I’m Bluetooth-free today.”

“But I bet your mobile ringer is on high.”

“Of course it is. Bat line too.”

He grabs a carrot from the appetizer plate and crunches into it. “Someday you’ll meet a woman who makes you want to turn the bat line off.”

“Maybe. For now, I see no reason to end my run as New York’s most eligible bachelor. But you’ve ended yours. How’s it going with the lady?”

“Perfect. Totally perfect. She’ll be here any minute. She has a crush on the shortstop.”

“Who doesn’t?”

During a break in the action later in the game, I step into the hall to take a quick call. When I’m done, I hear the click of shoes.

I turn.

Haven Delilah.

She’s walking toward me, and why, oh fucking why does she have to look the way she does? That chestnut hair. Those chocolate eyes. That body. She’s a total smoke show, and the universe must be having a field day, making my biggest rival the hottest babe I have ever seen.

“You following me, Delilah?”

“Yes, Summers. I was up at the crack of dawn, waiting for you. I’ve been slinking behind buildings and hiding around corners just to follow you to Yankee Stadium. What a shock to run into a sports agent here.”

I ignore her sarcasm. “That’s so thoughtful that you came here to congratulate me on adding Lorenzo to my roster.”

She crosses her arms defiantly. She does everything defiantly. It’s so fucking sexy it should be illegal. “Congrats. Too bad you didn’t get a pitcher though. I’ve heard they have more long-term value. Oh, but probably none were on the market, since I rep half the bull pen.”

“It’s okay. I get that you’re still licking your wounds. But I guess this makes us even now.”

She rolls her eyes as the caterer—earbuds in place—heads down the hall carrying an empty tray.

Haven takes a step closer, getting in my space, and holy shit. I can smell her perfume. Or is it her shampoo? It smells like honey, and it goes to my head. Fucks with my senses. “Still having a hard time letting the past go?”

I swallow roughly as she calls me on my bullshit, right as her insanely seductive smell is drifting through my mind.

She pitches forward, squeaking in surprise as the caterer bumps her with the empty tray. “Oh!”

She stumbles closer. Instinct has me grabbing her arm, steadying her. She lifts her chin. She’s inches away. Her face is kissing distance from mine. Her lips are dangerously close. Lips I know so well. Lips I’ve traced, explored long into the night.

For a moment, all our games, all our anger sizzles away. “You okay?” I ask.

She looks into my eyes, her chocolate-brown irises blazing with some unusual combination of heat and confusion. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She looks down at her arm. The arm I’m holding. She seems to register my hand on her bare skin. She swallows then looks up at me.

Her breath hitches when she meets my eyes. And what’s that I see? Is her skin flushing? Holy shit. Haven is still affected by the way I touch her.

Well, this changes everything.

53

Several months later

After I record an episode of The Consummate Wingman, I pop into Marie’s office. “I’ve been remiss.”

She arches a brow. “I know.”

“Forgive me.”

“Only if you pay up.”

“I always make good on my bets.”

She holds out her hand. “I did enjoy the hundred dollars. Almost as much as I enjoyed being right.”

“And saying ‘I told you so’? Do you enjoy that at all? I can’t tell.”

She wiggles her fingers impatiently. “I did tell you so. I told you that you two would be more than friends. And then I predicted you’d move in together in less than six months. And you acted all independent.”

I have the decency to look sheepish. “What can I say? You were right on that count.”

I hand her the winnings on that wager. It’s far less painful than waiting longer to cohabitate would have been.

She taps her chin. “Next thing you know, I’ll be betting on when she’s going to pop out babies.”

My eyes widen. “No one is saying anything about babies yet.”

“Mark my words. You’ll be doing that after you say I do.”

“I haven’t even proposed yet.”

She shoots me an amused grin. “Seems we have our next wager.”