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RBI or, let’s be real, a home run , then you agree to come back on my show and let me ask you why.”
    His eyes narrowed. So did hers. And Lucy the waitress chose that moment to drop two chicken Caesar salads on the table. “There you go, sugar. The cook put extra chicken on your salads.”
    “Thank you, Lucy,” he said, and gave her a smile that probably melted the woman’s underpants right off her.
    “Oh for Pete’s sake,” Kelly muttered and picked up her fork. “That’s the deal, Tex.”
    Parker grinned. “I’m game if you are.”
    Kelly put down her fork and stuck out her hand. Parker took it in his big bear paw, and they shook on it. Only Parker didn’t let go of her hand right away. He sort of held on to it, that charming little smile of his curling the corners of his mouth, his eyes roaming her face.
    “May I have my hand, please?” she asked politely. He let go. She wished Lucy would come back and fill her water glass, because she was feeling a little parched. His smile went even deeper, and she had the distinct impression that he knew exactly how parched she was.
    Kelly cleared her throat and forked a piece of chicken. “This will be the easiest bet I ever took,” she said.
    “I was thinking the same thing.”
    “I can’t wait for the game tomorrow night. I’m going to listen to every play,” she said, and laughed, imagining him at bat, swinging for the fences and hitting nothing but air.
    “Why listen when you can see it in person? I’ll leave two tickets for you and Guido.”
    Actually, that sounded like a perfect plan. “Seriously?” she asked.

    “Absolutely. It would be my pleasure.”
    Not nearly as much as it would be her pleasure to watch him lose the bet. And as the conversation turned to pitching, Kelly happily thought of all the one-liners she would use when he came back on her show.

CHAPTER 06
    In the bottom of the seventh, the Houston Astros were leading the Mets two to one, but the Mets had two guys on base and Parker was up to bat. He’d gotten a base hit in an earlier inning, and that had boosted his confidence. But he was mildly disappointed to look up to the seats he’d left for Kelly—choice seats, right behind the dugout—and see them empty.
    Who knew why she hadn’t come? Frankly, it wasn’t a big deal—whatever he did tonight would be repeated over and over again on ESPN and local news. But he was playing so well, and he had an excellent feeling about this at bat, because the Astros had Orsen Harbacker warming up in the bull pen.
    Orsen was a relief pitcher Parker knew almost better than anyone else in the Major Leagues. They’d played against each other in high school, together in college, and together in the minors and big league. Parker knew Orsen so well, he knew Orsen liked to throw a sinking fast ball, which most guys in the league couldn’t hit.

    But there wasn’t another ballplayer who’d spent hours letting Orsen practice throwing sinking fast balls to them, either. Years ago, when Parker and Orsen had played college ball, the two of them had practiced many afternoons in an empty ball field.
    So when Parker stepped into the batter’s box with two men on, he casually knocked the dirt from his cleats and lined up. He could see Orsen size him up, could see him shake off the catcher’s first two signals. Then he threw a curve ball.
    “Strike!” the ump called, and Parker smiled at Orsen, stepped out of the batter’s box, adjusted his helmet and his glove, and knocked the dirt off his cleats once more. Just as he was about to step into the box, he happened to glance up to the seats behind the dugout.
    Damn it if his pulse didn’t leap a little, because there she was, with Guido beside her. He didn’t how he might have missed her before. She was sitting with her legs crossed, leaning forward, her arms propped on her knee, watching him intently. She was wearing a Mets baseball hat, a kick-ass top with spaghetti straps, and what he guessed was