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handicapped at the Rogues.”
    He wrapped up his rundown with a suggestive wink. “Your place or mine, Emerson, at season’s end we’ll enjoy breakfast in bed.”

THREE
    “Hello, Legs.” Chase “Chaser” Tallan pushed through the gate at the Grand Slam concession stand and crossed to the athletically trim woman perched on a ladder, stacking paper cups on a tiered shelf.
    Jen Reid turned slightly, and the wooden ladder shook. Chaser reached out, curved his hand over her hip, not wanting her to fall. Time and again he’d asked Jen to get rid of the rickety old ladder. Each time she’d refused. The ladder had belonged to her father. And his father before him. Generations of Reids had climbed the rungs. Jen held on to all things that were family. No matter their condition.
    His hand steadied her as she climbed down. Standing before him, she gently drew his Killer Loops down his nose and whistled. “Nice shiner.”
    “You heard about the fight?”
    “And your suspension.”
    His hand flexed before stroking upward and resting at her waist. A bare waist with an amber stud at her navel. He tugged down the hem on her blue tank top. “Big John would want you covered.”
    “I’m thirty-two,” she reminded him.
    “Your dad always saw you as twelve.”
    He pulled her close, and she went willingly. She wrapped her arms about his neck, rested her head against his chest. An unspoken bond held them in silence. She knew he needed her. And she was there for him.
    Her calmness was an antidote to his chaotic life, providing a comfort he’d yet to find with another woman. But along with her comfort, he knew he’d have to face her honesty. Jen always told it to him straight.
    He’d known her forever, as neighbors and childhood friends. Each was an only child. Each was born to older parents who had been told they’d never have kids. Jen and he had attended the same schools, been in many of the same classes. Each knew what made the other person tick.
    He tightened his arms around her, rested his chin on the top of her head. She was a tall woman at five nine, with her long black hair and longer legs. In between ballet lessons, she’d played volleyball and basketball. Following high school graduation, she’d studied dance at Julliard. She’d performed with the New York City Ballet until her father’s untimely death. Two years earlier.
    She’d left New York and returned to Richmond.Her inheritance lay in six concession stands at James River Stadium. Not in performing Swan Lake. She’d never once complained about the turn of events that had brought her home.
    Jen adapted to whatever life dealt her.
    Although Chaser missed Big John as much as Jen, he was damn glad she was home. She kept him sane.
    “Who punched you?”
    He felt her breath against his gray T-shirt. Right over his heart.
    “Dane Maxin.” A rookie catcher who would slip into the rotation following Chaser’s suspension.
    “Why did you fight?”
    “I had Psycho’s back.”
    “Maxin had Chris Colliers’s.” Tilting her head back, she met his gaze. Her amber eyes were as sympathetic as her tone. “The Rogues are off to a rough start. Thirteen games is a long time to warm the bench.”
    “I’ll pack my iPod and the latest issue of Sports Illustrated.”
    She pulled a face. “Heard from Isabella?”
    Isabella Mancini, a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model and a very possessive woman. After six dates and two breakfasts in bed, she’d announced their engagement to the press. Their breakup had lasted three months. Months of her stalking, whining, and criminal behavior. “She’s gone for good.”
    “She was scary.”
    Scary and destructive. From the beginning oftheir relationship, Bella had known he and Jen were close. So close, Bella accused them of being lovers. Which Chaser denied. And Bella continued to hold against him.
    The woman carried jealousy to the extreme.
    He’d filed a police report when she’d slashed every piece of clothing in his closet.