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or break the spell and work. She flipped open her laptop. “What else do you like, Jesse Bellisaro?”
    “The way a woman smiles, the softness of her skin, the throaty sounds she makes during sex.”
    Her hands froze over the keyboard. “Out of the bedroom and back to the park. Talk baseball.”
    “Does baseball turn you on?”
    “It holds my interest.”
    He pulled himself forward, rested his elbows on the table. “I like the sound of the sweet spot, when the bat connects with the ball for a home run. Sliding into a base a split second before being tagged out. Hearing the crowd chant my name. The ultimate rush of taking the division title.” He paused. “No words can describe winning the World Series.”
    She typed, then looked up. “You’ll hear more boos than cheers with the Bat Pack warming the bench on Opening Day.”
    “Thirteen games will pass quickly.”
    “Maybe not. My money’s on the Ottawa Raptors.”
    He blinked. “Ontario? You have a pro-Canadian bias?”
    “They’ve switched to a traditional pitching-and-defense approach. The Raptors are uniquely positioned to take advantage of the Yankees’, Braves’, and Rogues’ vulnerabilities.”
    “The Raptors are a close-but-no-cigar team.”
    She flattened her palms on either side of her laptop and leaned forward. “They have an all-star-caliber bat at second and exceptional glove work at short.”
    He rolled his shoulders, met her nose to nose across the table. “Their shortstop couldn’t scoop a ball if it stopped at his feet.”
    “He was named Rookie of the Year after a long line of jaw-dropping plays at third last season.”
    His nostrils flared. “The Raptors are a young team. Their rotation is dubious or disconcertingly raw. They won’t win a hundred games.”
    “They’ll take the National League title.”
    “Which would take us out of the race.” He shook his head. “Not going to happen.”
    “Don’t be so sure.”
    “Care to make a wager?”
    Why not? She knew the stats of every team going into Opening Day. She’d take his bet and make sure he paid up when he lost. Her winnings would go to charity. “One thousand dollars for every Raptor win over a hundred games.”
    “I can live with that.” His sexy mouth slowly pulled to one side in amusement. “What can you live with, Em? What do I win if the Raptors don’t hit a hundred.”
    The mood shifted significantly. A heightened awareness and expectation settled between them at the table. She licked her lips. “What would you want?”
    His gaze lit on her moistened mouth. “An opportunity to discover if you’re as passionate in bed as you are about baseball.”
    Sex with Jesse Bellisaro. Her throat went dry. Her palms were now sweaty. She reached for her ginger ale, pressed the ice-cold glass to her overheated cheek. “I’d prefer to keep our bet monetary,” she finally managed.
    “I guess you don’t really believe in the Raptors,” he said around a deceptively lazy grin. “You were gung ho on Ontario five minutes ago.Don’t you believe in them enough to lay bed and breakfast on the line?”
    She couldn’t fight the look in his eye, all-male and daring her to accept the bet. A sexual heat wound low in her belly. A pulsing heat that made her breathing faster. More irregular.
    Their bet set her up to win big bucks if the Raptors scored a hundred wins. If they didn’t, she’d be heating the sheets with a legendary lover.
    “Backpedaling?” he baited.
    She gripped the edge of the table. Her fingertips were sweaty. “You’re on.” The words came out as barely a whisper.
    “I’m always on. ” His self-assurance forced her to take notice. “I scanned the disabled list before I left the park. A list not yet released to the press. Opening Day, the Raptors starting left fielder is out with a groin injury. A sprained wrist sidelines their lead-off batter. Their starting pitcher has a sore toe, which will keep him out of the opener. The Raptors are playing as