Sam Taylor had only three more items to cross off her to-do list before she left Chicago for good.
Two: meet up with the girls for one final tequila night.
Three: seduce Riley Scott.
Numbers one and two could wait until the end of the weekend, but the third item was one she'd been putting off far too long.
She'd wanted to sleep with Riley since the moment he'd walked into her bar two years ago. Well, he hadn't so much walked as swaggered. He swaggered into the Diamond in a pair of faded blue jeans that hugged his lean hips and tight ass, a black T-shirt that stretched over his big rippled chest, and a cocky little grin that said 'I intend to get laid'.
And laid he'd gotten. Just not by her. Ten minutes after the retired Chicago White Sox player swaggered into her establishment, a redhead approached him, bought him a drink, and lured him out of the bar.
After that, Riley made it a habit of visiting the Diamond. Sometimes he left with a woman, sometimes he left alone. Either way, he never left with her. It grated on her ego, especially since she possessed the three B's Riley seemed to love in a woman--blonde hair, blue eyes and big tits.
But no. The dark-haired sex god had no qualms about flirting up a storm with her, but flirting was as far it went. He'd never propositioned her. Not even once.
So, seeing as she was leaving the city in three days, it was time to proposition him.
Leaning against the chrome bar counter, she scanned the dimly lit room in hopes of catching a glimpse of the object of her sexual affection. No luck. Yet. She knew Riley would show up tonight, and when he did, she'd pounce.
The ice cubes in her glass slid against each other as she lifted her lemonade to her lips and took a long, cooling sip. Not only was she feeling flushed, but her heart pounded erratically against her breasts, the anticipation of finally seducing Riley Scott so strong she could taste it on her lips.
She hadn't told her best friends, Jane and Callie, about her plans, mostly because she knew they'd try to talk her out of it. Riley's reputation off the baseball diamond was as legendary as the one the sportscasters still talked about, and she wasn't na´ve enough to think she'd get anything other than sex from him. He was a player through and through, the consummate Casanova, only less romantic and far naughtier.
Oh, she'd heard naughty stories about Riley Scott, all right, many of them directly from his sexy mouth. She and Riley had grown close over the years. Platonic close, of course. She got the feeling he viewed her as a buddy, another one of his baseball player pals with whom he could joke around and talk about his conquests. Well, she was sick of living in buddy territory. After two years of fantasizing about her pal, it was time to stop sitting in the dugout and seek out a starting position in one of those dirty stories he liked to tell.
Her life had been a mess lately. She hadn't gotten laid in months. She'd been forced to sell the Diamond, the one possession she owned that brought her any pleasure, and now she'd lost her apartment too. Starting new would be good for her. She hoped. But she had no intention of leaving town with regrets, and not jumping Riley's bones would be the biggest regret of all.
As if a higher power had taken notice, the door of the Diamond swung open and in swaggered the man she planned to screw senseless tonight.
She fought back a smile and watched as he ordered a beer from a passing waitress and walked over to the pool table. A minute later, he'd suckered a college kid into shooting a few rounds. Poor kid. Along with having a delicious ass, Riley was also a first-rate pool player. Sam had seen him hustle dozens of unsuspecting guys.
She stared at him for a moment, feeling like a hawk circling its prey. When her eyes got their fill, she hopped off the bar stool and strolled over to the pool table.
Riley glanced up as the curvy blonde approached. He took a second to sweep his gaze over her tight tank top and hip-hugging jeans, then met her eyes. "Hey, Sam."
"I need to talk to you," she said in lieu of a greeting.
He gestured to the pool cue in his hand. "Can it wait?"