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  Scandalous Moves Series

  Deborah Grace Staley

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Deborah Grace Staley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Fiona Jayde Media

  Editor: Becky Guyton

  Marketing Consultant: Janene Cates Putman

  Created with Vellum

  This is for my son, Ethan, who is my absolute favorite baseball player in the whole world. I love you to the moon and back. I am so proud to be your momma.

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Read an Excerpt from Ridden, the next in the Scandalous Moves Series

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Deborah Grace Staley

  Foreword

  Author Note

  Have you ever done something daring that forced you to step outside your comfort zone? That’s the concept behind my new series, Scandalous Moves. In each of these longer novellas, you’ll see strong, driven women do something out of character that shakes things up in their carefully controlled lives. Through the upheaval, they’ll learn that some chances are worth taking because they’ll realize a life well-lived consists of possibilities and grand adventures. Even though there are sometimes failures, that just makes the successes all the more sweet.

  Scandalous Moves is a FLAME (Sexy) contemporary series not recommended for readers under eighteen or those who blush easily! But if you like your romance novels with sexy heroes and scorching hot sex scenes, read on! If you have a preference for more TAME (Sweet) romances, I have something for you, too. Check out my award-winning and best selling Angel Ridge Series and my short stories (see links to purchase on the “Also By . . .” page).

  Maybe you’ve made some Scandalous Moves of your own. Share your stories on Facebook and Twitter using #Scandalous, and be sure to tag me @debgstaley.

  Happy reading!

  —Deborah Grace Staley

  1

  “Where are you this week? Venezuela? The Dominican?”

  Speaking into her cell, Jaye Baxter said, “Puerto Rico.”

  Her dad sighed. “San Juan. What I wouldn’t give to see her again.”

  “That’s right. You played winter league here, didn’t you?” Jaye took the lavender sundress from her suitcase and spread it out on the hotel bed. The tags dangled from it, taunting her to finally cut them and put the dress on. But Jaye’s eyes moved to the stack of baseball player stats on the nightstand. They called to her, too. Work always called.

  “Yes,” her dad, Chuck Baxter, the former Atlanta Braves pitcher said. “I have fond memories of the months I spent there, but that was in my wild bachelor days before I met your mother.”

  With the mention of her mother, Jaye automatically diverted the conversation. “You should get out of Georgia early this year,” she suggested. “An empty condo in Florida is a waste, especially when the temperatures dip.”

  “Ah, but it’s Georgia, and not that cold yet. You know I love the fall colors. Can’t get that in Florida.”

  “I do miss seeing the leaves change,” Jaye admitted as she sat in a chair at her hotel room desk and stared at the summery dress on the bed.

  “I bet it’s beautiful there. You should go out tonight and listen to some music,” her dad said.

  “It’s late, and I’m afraid I won’t be seeing the outside of my hotel room. Tomorrow, I have meetings all day and a game to scout. Then, it’s straight to the airport to do it all again the next day in another town in some tropical paradise.”

  “You know what they say. All work and no play makes Jaye a very lonely girl.”

  “A state to which Jaye has sadly become accustomed.”

  “There’s more to life than work, honey,” her dad said softly.

  “Is there?” She’d really never had a life outside baseball. Her dad had played and passed his love of the game on to her. Going into the business had been a natural progression. She had goals that required focus. Still, Jaye moved over to the bed and fingered the hem of the dress, loving the color and its silky feel against her skin.

  “You need a break. I can hear it in your voice.”

  Jaye sighed. “Maybe.” All the travel and number crunching since she’d taken over as Director of Latin American Scouting for the Reds, well, it had gotten monotonous. “I’m just tired.”

  “Nothing a red-blooded Latin man won’t cure. That would snap you right out of your funk.”

  “Daddy!” she squeaked.

  “Since your mother’s not here to do the job, I’ll take a moment to speak to you the way she would have.”

  “Oh my Lord . . .”

  “Put on a pretty dress and go out tonight, Jaye. Do you have a pretty dress?”

  “Of course,” she said, still looking at the one she’d just put on her bed. She had dresses. She just never had the opportunity to wear them.

  “And does your hotel have a patio where you could get a drink? Have some dinner?”

  “I don’t really know,” she said honestly, trying to imagine putting on the dress and sashaying down to the hotel bar. She felt awkward just thinking about it.

  “So why don’t you change into the dress, let your hair down, and allow yourself to remember you’re a woman—a beautiful woman—”

  “Daddy, please—”

  “—With normal female needs,” he finished.

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” Jaye could feel herself blushing.

  “Maybe we should have had more of them,” her dad said firmly. “Now, I know you gals use electronic devices for that these days, but cold, battery-operated, mechanical buzzing thingies can’t compare to a real man.”

  For a brief moment, Jaye forgot her father was talking to her about sex toys and allowed herself the luxury of imagining doing it with a real man . . . it had been so long.

  “Woman cannot live on work alone,” her dad added.

  Jaye shook her head to clear the fantasy. Back to reality. “Work and battery- operated devices are sadly all this girl has time for.”

  “Honey,” her dad began.

  “I’ve got an early day tomorrow that won’t end before midnight, and then another early morning after that.”

  “There’s tonight.”

  “Yep. Room service, stats, and a full night’s sleep. Heaven.”

  “Uh-uh. Shower, put on the dress, and get out of the room. Eat where there are people. And music,” her dad added. “And dancing.”

  “That requires energy,” Jaye complained.

  “You sound older than I feel on my worst day. You’re only twenty-nine. When I was twenty-nine, I had energy to spare.”

  “Right now, I feel much older.”

  “One more reason to get out and live a little—be reminded that you�
�re a young, vital woman.”

  Jaye wrinkled her nose. Something long-term appealed. It’d be nice to come home to a great guy, snuggle on the couch, and discuss their day over a glass of wine. That is, if she were ever home. But one night? It had been forever since she’d had a date.

  “I can hear the rusty wheels grinding into motion,” her dad said, laughing.

  “Would I like to have a man in my life? Sure. But there’s no time with me on the road all the time. Meaningless sex isn’t my thing, dad.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

  “La la la la la. Not listening,” Jaye said, desperately trying to vanish the image of her dad in a similar situation.

  “Look, hon, we’re talking about tapping the valve before you explode, not happily-ever-after. First things first.”

  “Daddy!”

  “I was referring to a little conversation and maybe a dance,” he clarified. “After that, it’s up to you.”

  Through the open door of her balcony, Jaye could hear music floating up from below. The hotel must have an outdoor dining area or bar. “It would be nice to eat outside instead of getting room service again,” she said. “But I have player stats to input.”

  “The stats will be there tomorrow. Deal with it while you’re traveling.” He paused and then added, “Take the night off, honey. Have a drink without feeling guilty about it and enjoy the ocean breeze on your skin. And if a handsome man strikes up a conversation . . .”

  “Right.” Jaye laughed. Men didn’t approach her at bars. Of course, she was rarely in a bar.

  “Try to at least be open to the possibility?” he added with a hopeful note in his voice.

  “Okay,” she relented. “I’ll go downstairs to eat, but then I’m coming back to my room to work,” she said firmly.

  “I blame myself for this,” her dad said. “Maybe I should have remarried. You would have benefited from a woman’s influence.”

  “It’s not like you didn’t have the opportunity,” Jaye said. “Women threw themselves at you all the time. Still do.”

  “Maybe it’s time we both put ourselves out there,” he suggested. “Now hang up the phone, put on that dress, and get out of your room.”

  “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you, too, honey.”

  Jaye disconnected the call and looked at the dress, considering. What if it didn’t fit? She’d been eating out so much, and she hadn’t had time to exercise in ages. But she had to admit, an hour outside after a long day of meetings sounded like heaven.

  She picked up the dress and carried it to the bathroom. One hour on the patio with food and a glass of wine. She’d earned this. The stats could wait an hour. Even scouting directors had to eat.

  2

  Jaye Baxter stared out at the darkened expanse of the ocean as she sipped another glass of chardonnay. The silvery reflection of the moon on the water mesmerized while the wine and soft piano music left a mellow feeling in their wake.

  A cool breeze lifted her hair and the strands whispered against her bare shoulders as her sundress teased her knees. She glanced down at her new high-heeled sandals, also never before worn, and smiled. She always wore heels. They were her one concession to femininity. But these shoes were not the least bit business-like. The sales clerk had called them fuck-me heels.

  Smiling, Jaye shook her head and sipped the last of the wine. She almost felt like a woman on vacation instead of a woman on track to become the first female general manager in major league baseball. Tomorrow, she’d again put on the masculine, drab clothes that by design helped her blend into a man’s world; but tonight she’d try to do what she’d promised her dad and sit outside on a gorgeous evening. And since she was here, she might as well have a look around.

  The late hour had sent most of the resort’s diners to their rooms, where she should be as well. She poured the last of the wine into her glass and noticed the mostly deserted tables. A few couples slow-danced, some businessmen and women sat at the bar. A man near the end of the bar lifted his glass and smiled. Jaye quickly turned away, but his image stayed with her. Tall, lean, dark, classically handsome in that chiseled, long-nosed, generous mouth kind of way.

  She glanced back at him. He smiled and looked away, rotating his glass on the bar. Real subtle, Jaye.

  She downed more than a sip of her wine and looked again. Damn it. Three looks left no doubt, so what the hell. Maybe it was the wine, but she looked her fill. Why not? He wore leather loafers, ass-molding gray slacks. At his wrist there were a couple of black leather bracelets. He had wavy, black hair and a sexy scruff on his angular jaw. A diamond earring twinkled in the lights. Yeah. He would definitely do.

  Jaye set her wine glass down and smiled to herself. Now, she wouldn’t have to lie to her dad. She’d left the room, sat outside, had dinner and a drink, and had checked out a hot Latin guy. Mission accomplished.

  After signing the bill, she stood to go to her room, but found herself toe-to-toe with the hot guy from the bar. “I hope you’re not leaving,” he said, his voice deep and laced with an accent. “It’s early yet.”

  Her four-inch heels put her at eye level with several inches of skin above the buttons of a black shirt stretched tight across sculpted pecs and wide shoulders. When she finally met his gaze, she found they were a startling pale green.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Um, hi,” Jaye managed.

  “May I buy you a drink?”

  Jaye glanced at the empty bottle of wine on her table. More alcohol wouldn’t be advisable. “I was just leaving.”

  “Perhaps you’d consider a dance before you go?” If temptation had two legs, it would be this man. He held out his hand. “One dance,” he coaxed.

  One dance? Like one piece of cake and the craving would dissipate, right? Without fully thinking it through, Jaye placed her hand in his. A zing of electricity buzzed up her arm then made its way to other parts of her that hadn’t been zinged in a while. Shit.

  “Please, you’re wounding my ego.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You look as if I’m escorting you to your execution.” On the dance floor, he took her in his arms, and they began to move.

  “Sorry,” she managed as she began to absorb the effects of him holding her close.

  “Do you salsa?” Without waiting for her response, he began moving to the driving tempo of the song. Jaye shook her head and stood motionless as she watched him swivel his hips. He put his big hands on her hips and with slight pressure, got her moving. “Soft knees. Yes. There. You’re a natural.” He took her hand, leaving the other in place, as they moved together. Jaye felt like something alien had taken over her body as they glided across the floor. “Beautiful,” he said. “I think you have danced the salsa before.”

  “No,” she began, but losing concentration, stumbled and stepped on his foot. “Sorry.”

  With a finger at her chin, he had her looking back into his stunning eyes. “Never look down.” They found their rhythm again. Her skirt swirled around her knees. The music, the heat, and the man stirred her blood. She felt alive and so feminine dancing with him. And have mercy, was dancing with him hot.

  The band played a slow song, and without asking, he pulled her closer. He pressed her hand to his chest—his deliciously hard chest—then trailed his fingertips down her arm. In her heels, she could just press her cheek against his neck. She inhaled. He smelled like heaven. His woodsy, earthy musk scent combined with the wine she’d drunk had her more than a bit off-balance. She could be in deep shit here. Jaye Baxter never lost her head. She made a living around built, sexy athletes—built, sexy, and often half-naked-in-locker-room athletes. What was happening to her?

  “What is your name?” he whispered against her ear.

  “Jay—um,” she cleared her throat and lied. “Jade.” In something like super slow motion, Jade’s hand moved to his shoulder, around his neck, and then that vixen’s hand explored the skin exposed above the sev
eral buttons undone on his shirt.

  “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

  Ah, the Latin charm. “How many women have you used that line on?” she asked.

  “You doubt my sincerity?”

  He seemed so taken aback that she found herself apologizing. “Sorry.”

  “I’ve been watching you since you came in, trying to get up the nerve to approach you.” Jaye turned away, but he positioned himself so she had to look at him. “You don’t believe me?” He sounded genuinely surprised. Jaye lifted her shoulder in response. “You appeared so serene and beautiful sitting there alone.” He trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek to her jaw. “And a bit sad, I think.” He traced a finger from her jaw to her chin. “When you poured the last of your wine and signed your bill, I knew I had to take courage and come to you, or I would lose my chance.”

  “Your chance?”

  “To talk with you . . . dance with you . . . hold you.”

  “And?”

  “And?” he repeated, a frown marring his handsome features.

  “You only wanted to talk and dance?” She deliberately left out the “hold you” part.

  He flexed her hand on his back. “I find I want much more than I should as I have not yet offered you my name.”

  “So . . . give it to me,” her inner vixen, murmured. And look at that, her lips pressed right up against his neck.

  “Dios.”

  He held her closer. Getting more fully into the role of Jade, she tipped her head back, scraping her teeth against his jaw. “Well?” she said against the corner of his mouth, wondering at her boldness. The anonymity she’d created by not giving her real name had freed something inside her. Something she’d analyze at some point, but not now when his lips were so close.