There was no mistaking the look of relief that passed over his face. She turned and he followed her back into her apartment.

“Amanda Cole,” he said from behind her after closing the door, his voice full of barely contained delight, “what exactly are you wearing?”

Amanda froze, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She had completely forgotten. He wasn’t talking about her jeans or her bedroom slippers. She waited for the first wave of the flush to pass through to her hairline.

“Angel girl,” she heard him breathe softly from behind her. He had gotten closer. “You’re wearing my number.”

She couldn’t deny it. Figures it would have to be the one with his name stitched in bold letters across her shoulders as well. She certainly wasn’t expecting him to show up unannounced when she bought the jersey from the local Modell’s the day after their first real date. She wasn’t about to admit she had been wearing it exclusively for the better part of a week when home alone, either. She struck an overly casual pose and then turned back around to him.

“This old thing?” she asked breezily in spite of her flaming face.

He was staring at her, eyebrow and head both cocked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Caught,” he mouthed to her.

“Don’t go overboard, Walker. It’s just a shirt,” she scoffed, then added a tsk. “Of all the arrogance.”

In the fractional moment of silence that hung in the air before he could respond, his name was said loudly and clearly. They turned their heads in unison to her high-definition fifty-two-inch flat screen mounted on the wall. For several seconds, they both watched the image of Chase filling the screen, adjusting his gloves, the bat neatly tucked under his arm. He tapped the bat one time against each of his spikes and took several practice swings while masculine voices talked about him in the background using words like impressive and stellar. His batting stats appeared in a box on the bottom of the screen. Chase turned back to Amanda, his eyes wide and bright with wonder.

“This game is from four days ago.” An ecstatic, boyish smile took over his face. “I had a really good night. I think I dove into the stands.”

Amanda hastened around the couch to reach for the remote, her face already feeling the rush of heat making its way up and into her cheeks. Hell’s bells, the television got me again. She internally whined. There was no point in continuing the façade anymore. Any chance of pretending she wasn’t preoccupied with him was dashed. She looked at him a second more on the screen, in the batter’s box, where ten minutes ago she’d been safe to admire him without his knowing it. She pointed the remote at the television and turned it off. She looked back to him timidly, hoping he would go easy on her.

“So caught,” he whispered, his eyes aglow. Then they began to devour her, one blink at a time.

“I DVR them so I can see you up close,” she offered up feebly, her mouth suddenly dry. His gaze was hypnotic. Playing hard to get was no longer an option. Neither was lying to him. Not when he was looking at her like that. And he hadn’t run away when he saw her all banged up, like that jerk did to Marcia when she broke her nose on The Brady Bunch. Chase Walker looked like the only taking off on his mind involved their clothes. “When they show you before you’re getting ready to swing, you get a look I like. I certainly can’t see it from any seat in the stadium.”

Chase casually stroked his chin as he slowly took several long strides to join her near the couch, his eyes never leaving hers. “A look you like? And just what sort of look might that be?”

Amanda felt like melting under the heat of his stare burning into her. It should be illegal for a man to be that handsome. He was going to laugh at her after hearing her silly reasoning. He was going to know he had her hook, line, and sinker. The rain was pounding against the windows. Her heart was pounding in her chest. As if in a trance, she answered him, her voice soft. “The same kind of look you get right before you kiss me.”

But he didn’t laugh at her. Instead, Chase took another step closer, his gaze finally coming off her eyes and drifting down to her puffy upper lip again. He sighed and shook his head. “You’re so clever, Amanda. They both require the same level of focus. You’ve barely begun to see that look. But it almost pains me to say, if you’re intent on getting that look out of me tonight, you’re going to have to get more creative. That shirt is a pretty good start. I’m up to it if you are.”

She swallowed, but it was difficult with the lump that was now fully formed in her throat. She knew if she tried any sort of comeback, it would result in saying the only words that kept repeating in her head: I want you. She had pretty much given him the go-ahead to sweep her up and have his way with her, but he was just standing there, staring at her mouth, his arms casually flung across his chest. He appeared to be thinking. Dear God, if he didn’t touch her soon, she thought she might spontaneously combust.

He looked back up and dropped his arms. He began smiling, the same sort of smile that a cartoon cat gets when it eats the canary with one bite. She fully expected to see him hiccup and a yellow feather fly out of his mouth.

“Amanda, do you touch yourself while you watch me? Do I make you come?”

She dropped her head and began to blush furiously again, refusing to respond. She’d be taking that answer to her grave. The question itself was so personal and he asked it as though he had every right to do so. Chivalry was indeed dead, at least for the moment, and its replacement was oozing pure sexuality. Her skin began to prickle with excitement. He reached out and took her chin, lifting her head to meet his eyes.

“I think I feel cheated.” He grinned wickedly down at her. “I’m doing all the work and some vibrator is getting all the glory.”

With his strong fingers still on her chin, Chase carefully brought his mouth down to brush against her neck, just below her ear.

“No toys needed.” Amanda swooned, her eyelids heavy. His fingertips left her face and began to trace a path down the front of her jersey. Her hands ran up the solid wall of his chest before coming to rest on his granite shoulders.

He grunted in approval, his lips traveling farther down her neck and his hand to her jeans. He unbuttoned them without her even noticing. She barely heard her zipper going down. She was lost in the sensations of his mouth on her skin. It was all she could do to remain standing. Despite the size of his hand, he was able to nimbly and easily dip it inside her panties. Her breath quickened and her grip on him tightened. As soon as he heard her tiny moan of appreciation at his intrusion, he drove his thick middle finger inside her and exhaled a groan of his own.

“Shit, I wish I could kiss you,” he murmured into her neck as he began to move his finger in and out of her slowly, his hand snug within her silk and lace.

“Me, too.” Amanda nearly cried in frustration, squirming into him. Her lip was no longer the only thing throbbing. In fact, it paled by comparison. She tried to bring his head down to her mouth. “I don’t care.”

He pulled his head from her grasp to look down at her.

“But I do, angel,” he told her, carefully kissing the corner of her mouth while his finger continued its torment. It tickled at her soul while his other fingers toyed with the velvet lining that surrounded her. It soon left her witless. With the whispery pant of his name from her, Chase realized his wait was over. No ifs, ands, or busted lips, he was going to claim her as his own, once and for all.

His free hand moved to the small of her back, just in time to steady her as her knees started wobbling. They buckled completely when he abruptly withdrew from her. He caught her, lifted her, and raced the short distance to her bedroom, depositing her on the bed. He quickly removed his own shirt and unzipped his pants while kicking off his shoes. With the slacks open and slung low on his hips, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. From inside it, he took out a condom and held it up.

“Amanda,” he said in a rush, “I use one of these every time. I don’t want to use one now. I promise I’m disease-free. Are you protected and safe, and do you trust me?” Chase didn’t actually care if she was protected or not. He couldn’t think of anything he’d like better than holding the shotgun at the wedding. He didn’t really care if she was safe, either; the seed had already been planted in his mind that he’d be willing to die for her. But her trusting him meant everything.

From the middle of her bed, Amanda tried to concentrate on what he was saying because his tone was certainly compelling. But seeing him for the first time without his shirt was fueling her already overloaded senses. She had seen multiple pictures of him shirtless when she did her research; the spread from Fitness magazine instantly crossed her mind, followed by the same lust-producing chill. She saw his abs and pecs in at least one commercial for a well-known sports company. He didn’t need Photoshop to do any of it justice. He was beyond splendid. Hulking and muscular, he was tan and defined and smooth, except for the appealing pattern of light hair that started on his chest. It narrowed down his solid belly in an inviting path to the elastic waistband of his designer boxer briefs. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from them, until she noticed them swell further, fine baby blue cotton straining against the still-half-closed fly of his black, tailor-made Armani trousers, a tidbit of information she obtained courtesy of an extensive article in GQ. When it dawned on her that she was gawking at his arousal, she brought her eyes swiftly back up to his. They were smoldering and serious and waiting with hard-won patience for her answer. What was the question again? Her gaze shifted briefly to his raised hand, then back to his face, and she wordlessly nodded. He tossed the condom and his wallet in the direction of his discarded shirt. He pulled at her jeans, and in one fluid motion, they and her panties were off, like a magician pulling a tablecloth out from under a completely set table. But he wasn’t ready to see her out of his shirt, not yet anyway. She wore his brand so well. He joined her on the bed, unbuttoning her jersey without taking it off. He kissed her just above her navel while his hand took full advantage of no longer having to work around her panties. Chase lingered there, the sound of her breathless pleasure music to his ears. Her hands ran along his back, and her nails tickled him. She was sweet and soft; everything he had convinced himself was worth waiting for. But he was finished with waiting. His lips finally moved upward only to meet up with her bra. In a quick, efficient motion, the bra was unhooked and he pushed it aside to allow himself access to her generous breasts. He kissed each one and his fingertips toyed with hard, responding nipples. She moaned and his erection raged within his clothing. He stood up, encouraged by her involuntary sigh at his withdrawal and he quickly finished stripping down. The time to get her fully exposed had arrived.