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and know what his brother was capable of throwing at that point in time.
    No doubt Jason could memorize an entire encyclopedia, but the rest probably had to do with their twin connection. Jason knew Jeff’s body as well as he knew his own.
    The third batter swung and missed the first two pitches. The hometown crowd was on their feet, willing their batter to hit the ball and give their team one more chance to tie the score. The camera focused on Jason. Fingers flashed between his legs in a code that only Jeff would understand. Megan’s skin flushed at the memory of those fingers on her. In her. He shifted, raised his glove…the camera shot changed. Jeff straightened. He lifted his left leg, fell forward as he brought his right hand up and over, releasing the ball as his left foot landed hard. The camera shot shifted again. The batter swung, the ball crashed into Jason’s glove hard enough to rock him back on his heels. The umpire behind him did an elaborate dance and yelled, “Strike three!”
    Jason stood, yanked his helmet off, and trotted toward the mound. Jeff met him halfway and the brothers shared a guy hug. Their identical faces wore matching smiles as the rest of the team joined in the celebration. Jeff and Jason walked off the field side-by-side, swallowed up by a flood of teammates from the dugout, and a tidal wave of reporters.
    Megan watched as the on-field reporter made his way through the crowd to Jeff and Jason. The brothers stood together, conquering warriors, accepting good-natured back slaps and handshakes from their teammates. Her heart skipped as they turned those disarming identical smiles to the camera. A few nights ago, they’d smiled at her like that, and she hadn’t been immune to it. She still wasn’t.
    The reporter praised Jeff’s accomplishment, but before he could go too far, Jeff stopped him. “Hey, I only played one inning. The real praise goes to the guys who were out there for the other eight innings,” he clamped a hand on Jason’s shoulder, “guys like Jason who put the runs on the board. If Stewart and Harding hadn’t done such a great job on the mound, I never would have come out of the bullpen.”
    The reporter tried his best to put Jeff back in the limelight, but the Terminator wouldn’t have it. Every chance he got, he turned the praise back on his teammates. Sincerity was in every line of his face, and evident in his tone. He believed what he was saying. The reporter eventually gave up, and turned his questions to Jason. His modesty was less, but he couldn’t very well deny it was his homerun, with a runner on base that had given the Mustangs the two runs they needed to win.
    Megan turned the coverage off after Jeff and Jason moved on to field questions from one of the throng of other reporters waiting to interview them. They’d be coming home from the road trip tonight, and they’d already invited her to their house tomorrow. She still hadn’t made up her mind, but staring at the flickering screen where a mediocre sit-com couldn’t command her attention, all she could think about was Jeff and Jason Holder.
    They wanted sex. With her. It seemed ridiculous to deny the prospect appealed to her. Who wouldn’t want to roll around in the sheets with two great looking guys? She knew firsthand how entertaining they could be, and how skilled they were at seduction. She’d parted her legs like a wanton – in the backseat of a car – for crying out loud. What would she do for them in the comfort and privacy of a bedroom?
    She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it tight against her chest. The real question was, what would they do for her? To her? She’d read a few erotic novels about ménages, but they’d seemed like fantasy to her. People didn’t really do that. Did they? And if they did…could she?
    She was still pondering the question when she slipped between the sheets that night. The smooth cotton was cold against her skin, reminding her how long it had been since