A man hot for his wife and still eager to please her, Risk waved them over. Taylor knew that if anyone other than Jacy had requested they join the group, Taylor would’ve been turned away.
“Iced hazelnut latte?” Jacy asked.
“And a raspberry scone,” she added. “The only two constants in my life.”
Once Jacy served both coffee and scone on ivory china, the two women crossed to the table of players. Jacy placed a reassuring hand on Taylor’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. Introductions followed. “Risk, Zen, Psycho, and Cooper Smith you already know. You’ve yet to meet relief pitcher Sloan McCaffrey and first baseman Rhaden Dunn. This is Taylor Hannah, a close friend. She’s in town for a week. Play nice, guys.”
Nice came in sideways glances, quick sips of coffee, and a rolling of shoulders. Casting a glance at Brek, Risk added one chair to the table—a chair meant for Jacy. Taylor stood off to the side.
At an unexpected call from one of her employees, Jacy returned to the front counter, which left Taylor alone with the six Rogues. Six reserved Rogues. Though not outwardly rude, Risk, Zen, Psycho, and Coop nodded hello, but didn’t extend an invitation to sit. Sloan and Rhaden took their cue from the veterans and stared her down.
Despite the fact that she’d tackled the Alaskan Iditarod and rafted the Brahmaputra River in India, these men posed an even bigger challenge. She was an outsider with no way in. Their loyalty lay with Stryke. She’d once hurt their starting pitcher. No one trusted her now.
She brushed invisible lint from her white poet’s shirt and shifted her stance. Twice. The unnerving silence told her all she needed to know. So much for relaxing with her iced coffee and scone. It was time to go.
She’d taken one step toward the door when the sudden snap of a newspaper page cut the tension at the table. The sound came from Brek Stryker as he flipped from comics to sports. The snap seemed to be a message to his teammates. Its effect on the players was immediate.
They made nice to her.
“Gotten naked lately?” asked Psycho, wearing a black T-shirt scripted with Born to be Nude. He claimed a chrome-backed chair from a nearby table and crammed it between himself and Sloan McCaffrey.
Shaken by the turn of events, Taylor was slow to reply. “You’re the nudist,” she finally managed. “You show enough skin for ten men.”
Psycho grinned and patted the red vinyl seat beside him. “Park it, Fearless.” He dared to call her by her nickname—a nickname given to her by Brek Stryker.
She sucked in her breath and squeezed into the narrow space, protective of—
“Watch her knee.” Stryke’s warning rose over her shoulder as he stood, coffee mug in hand. Edging by their table, he strolled toward the counter for a refill.
Psycho tracked Stryke, then turned back to Taylor, narrow eyed. He was obviously contemplating how their team captain knew she had a bad knee. The ACE bandage wasn’t visible beneath her mocha linen slacks. Ignoring the pain, she hadn’t been limping.
Psycho was usually so blunt, he made people blink. But he respected Stryke, and for the first time in his life he didn’t raise questions. Taylor appreciated his discretion. Easing back, Psycho gave her plenty of room to maneuver.
She collapsed into the chair and attempted to sort out what had just happened. For whatever reason, Stryke had come to her rescue. His acceptance had been signaled by the snap of the newspaper. He’d allowed her to have coffee with his teammates. He’d also protected her knee.
She met his gaze as he sauntered back toward her. What a difference a few minutes could make. His return expression was hard, all steely eyed and lockjawed, as if his moment of concern were a major lapse in judgment. One he now regretted.
She hid her disappointment by turning a smile on Sloan McCaffrey. Sloan took it as a come-on and shifted his chair closer, so the chrome legs of both overlapped.
“You single?” he immediately asked.
McCaffrey wasn’t aware of her history with Stryke. Apparently locker room gossip had died before he’d joined the team.
She broke off a piece of her scone and took a small bite. “Most certainly am.”
“Interested in more than coffee?” he asked, openly making a move on her in front of his teammates. He was all Rogue, assuming she’d go weak in the knees to date him.
Sloan was younger than she by several years; his life experience didn’t equal her own. Taylor sought maturity.
Psycho immediately put Sloan in his place. “The lady’s a thrill seeker. She’s fearless. Taylor doesn’t flirt with men, only with danger. Danger that would make you piss your pants.”
Sloan wasn’t the least bit put off by Psycho. He leaned his elbows on the table, his shoulder brushing Taylor’s own. “Extreme sports are a turn-on. I’m looking for an adrenaline addiction. The lady looks like a total free fall.”
“Book a trip at Thrill Seekers, two doors down,” suggested Zen “Einstein” Driscoll. A tall, lean man, he was known for his intensity, intelligence, and skill as a shortstop. “Taylor’s the best guide around.”
“I’ll stop in sometime,” Sloan said, probably expecting her to hold her breath until he showed. “Maybe book a trip for the off-season.”
If he did come to Thrill Seekers, looking for more than an outdoor adventure, Taylor would set her sister, Eve, on him. Eve knew who was showboating and who was serious, and her sarcasm shriveled a man’s danglers.
Taylor sensed that Sloan wasn’t a bad guy. He just came on too strong. She had the ability to read people quickly; she had to in her business. A person showed his true colors within seconds of facing down a mountain or running with the bulls in Pamplona. She knew when to push a man forward or pull him back from disaster.
McCaffrey was a diamond in the rough. His white T-shirt had yellowed around the collar, and he needed a shave. He was the type of man who didn’t stick around long enough for a woman to add bleach to his wash nor Downy to the rinse cycle. Softness wasn’t a part of his life.
When he fell for a woman, he’d fall hard.
Taylor wasn’t about to encourage his attention.
She handed the conversation over to Psycho, allowing the players to talk statistics and upcoming games.
Thirty minutes passed quickly. She sensed more than saw Stryke’s gaze on her. His occasional glance was nerve-racking. Jacy eventually rejoined the group. The discussion shifted to wives and children. Jacy admitted she and Risk were working on a family. Work drew Risk’s grin. Taylor foresaw beautiful babies in their future.