For the First Time (One Strike Away #$) Read online

  Jordyn wasn't entirely sure, but she believed Maisie had handed her a compliment. Backhanded. Reluctant. But a thumb's up nonetheless.

  A cup of coffee and a personality assessment thrown in at no extra charge.

  Taking a sip, Jordyn sighed with pleasure. She rarely imbibed in the hard stuff, touting herbal teas to her friends and family—while practicing what she preached. But the way her day had gone, she needed a cup or two of the full-octane stuff.

  "Hey, Maisie! Hasn't the game started?"

  Jordyn winced. Partly because she was sandwiched between Maisie and the man who shouted the words. But the main cause of her reaction was the game.

  Wherever she went. Rain or shine. The middle of December or the end of March. From the time she was a little girl. She couldn't get away from baseball.

  With a mental shrug, Jordyn cupped the mug in her hands. Maybe Spencer would hit one out of the park. Watching her big brother perform his magic with a bat never grew old.

  A sudden gust of cool air swirled through the room. Glancing toward the entrance, Jordyn watched a backlit figure fill the doorway. A man—from the size of him—his features shadowed as his broad shoulders blocked out what sunlight escaped through cloud-covered skies.

  Every occupant in the room, save herself, called out in unison.

  "Murph!"

  Jordyn's eyebrows lifted. Paddy's Pub, a latter-day Cheers? The first few bars of Where Everybody Knows Your Name ran through her head.

  Maisie smiled—by Jordyn's estimate, a rare occurrence.

  "Hey, Murphy. Good to see you."

  Without asking, the bartender picked up a glass. Her view blocked, Jordyn couldn't tell what she added next. Ice and…? Whatever the concoction, Murphy approved. He downed half the contents in one swig.

  "Just what I needed," he growled.

  The sound fit. The man was big as a bear—and twice as hairy. At the thought, Jordyn bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from grinning. She didn't want to seem rude. However, her thoughts were right on target. His dark beard was the definition of bushy, totally obscuring the outline of his face.

  As for the mop on top of his head? Jordyn knew women who would have killed for hair so thick and wavy. The difference was, a woman would have tamed the wild mass with regular trips to a salon. Or, at the very least, used a comb before she left the house.

  The clothing he wore was clean but well worn. Jeans. A thick, plaid shirt in colors of blue and gray with the collar of a black t-shirt peeking out from underneath. Scuffed work boots.

  Casual attire for a casually confident man.

  Jordyn frowned when she caught herself staring—strangely fascinated. From the moment Murphy entered, the atmosphere had changed. The energy ticking upward.

  What was it about him that drew her interest? The other people in the room she could understand. They knew him. A friend they noticed. He garnered their attention. But Jordyn had never met the man. Didn't know him. Never would.

  Jordyn dated sophisticated men. Well educated. Well informed. Well groomed. Was she a snob? Sure. Why not? What was wrong with knowing what she liked? She didn't begrudge Murphy his lifestyle. However, he wasn't her type.

  Whoa. Jordyn put a brake on her thoughts before they could turn down a road she had no desire to travel—now or ever. As if to emphasize the point, she set her mug down on the bar with a decisive thunk.

  Murphy turned his head at the sound. Noticing Jordyn for the first time.

  Whoa, Jordyn thought when his eyes locked with hers. Whoa, Nelly. Cool blue, his gaze started a warm heat in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed. Who was this guy? And why did his bottom lip have to stick out so temptingly from his curly beard, almost begging her to bite down?

  When the lip in question curved upward—as though perfectly aware where her thoughts had wandered—Jordyn felt her cheeks tingle. She never blushed. Never. However, there was a first time for everything.

  Thankfully, Maisie called out Murphy's name, diverting his attention. Jordyn took a deep, relieved breath. She needed to get a grip. And get back on the road. And stop the fanciful thoughts.

  "The guys want me to turn on the game, Murphy. Do you mind?"

  "No problem."

  Jordyn frowned. If Murphy had said no, what then? No baseball? Why should one man's preference take precedence? Who was this guy?

  The television popped on just as the Cyclones took the field, their white uniforms bright against the green of the field. A picture-perfect setting. For all her grumbling, Jordyn was a fan. When she was a girl, she'd dreamed of playing alongside her brother. The first woman to pitch for Seattle—or any professional team. Reality could be a bitch. She had a killer slider. However, her fastball didn't have enough velocity. And she couldn't throw a curve to save her life.

  Combination of chromosomes aside, nobody made the show with only one pitch in their repertoire. Jordyn's career ended around the same time her breasts started to develop.

  "The Cyclones need a new catcher," Maisie lamented as a member of the opposing team easily stole second. "Marquis' arm strength is middling. And don't get me started on his accuracy."

  "Damn good thing Nick Sanders is at second," the man seated near Jordyn piped in. "Without him, most of Marquis' throws would end up in center field."

  "The kid needs seasoning," Murphy said, his eyes on the screen. "Give him time."

  "Young pitching staff, young catcher. Not a great combination."

  Though she kept her opinion to herself, Jordyn agreed. Like every baseball team, players came and went. Free agency. Trades. Retirement. Change was inevitable. A part of the game.

  The core—the veterans—including Nick Sanders, Jordyn's brother at third and Travis Forsythe next to him at shortstop, weren't going anywhere. However, if the Cyclones wanted to defend their World Series title, they needed some of the new guys to step up. Fast.

  "Oh, come on!" Maisie shouted when—as if on cue—Marquis sailed a throw over Nick Sander's outstretched hand. The result? Two runs crossed home plate. "Spring training is one thing. What happens when the games count?"

  Apparently a man of few words, Murphy's only reply was a shrug.

  Jordyn looked inside her empty mug. Before she could decide if she needed a refill, her phone buzzed, signaling her car was ready. Ahead of schedule.

  If she left now, she could still make her appointment—a few minutes late. But no problem. Anastasia Perkins had been surprisingly understanding when Jordyn called to explain the delay.

  Dropping a five, plus a couple of ones for good measure, on the bar, Jordyn nodded toward Maisie on her way out.

  Murphy, casually sipping his second drink, his elbow propped on the bar, didn't give her a second glance. Jordyn was happy to discover his lack of interest didn't bother her a bit. She'd looked enough for both of them.

  Jordyn started her car, heading out of town and further up the mountain. With each mile, the memory of Murphy faded—quickly and completely. He'd been a momentary zing to her libido. An oddity she felt no need to explain or explore.

  Good humor restored, Jordyn settled back and enjoyed the journey. Before the day was through, she planned to add another must-have concoction to the exclusive items lining the shelves of her growing beauty boutique empire.

  Men—even ones as unique as Murphy—were a nice diversion from time to time. Her business was her passion. She didn't have time for anything—or anyone—else.

  ● ≈ ● ≈ ●

  "ROLL YOUR TONGUE back into your mouth. She was only passing through."

  "Who?"

  Maisie wasn't fooled for a second by the, I have no idea what you're talking about tone in Murphy's voice.

  "The beauty queen you couldn't keep your eyes off?"

  "Not my type," Murphy shrugged.

  "She's every man's type. Hell, I'm unwaveringly heterosexual, but if she gave me a wink, I'd hesitate before turning her down."

  Murphy's
lips twitched, but he was a harder audience than most.

  "As you said, Ms. Temptation was only passing through."

  "What if she'd hung around for a few days?"

  "Not interested."

  Maisie chuckled, leaving to take care of a newly arrived customer.

  Murphy kept his eyes on the game. Sure, he'd noticed the gorgeous brunette, and recognized her for what she was. Long, lean, green-eyed trouble.

  A few years ago, he wouldn't have hesitated. Full speed ahead. Without a second thought. Murphy would have done everything in his power to have her—the hell with the price.

  He smiled—slow and speculative—as a clear as glass image of the leggy beauty filled his thoughts. Good thing she hadn't stuck around. Though his wild days were behind him, she might have been a temptation he couldn't resist.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ● ≈ ● ≈ ●

  SIGNED. SEALED. DELIVERED.

  With a sense of accomplishment—bordering on smug—Jordyn headed for home. Not only did she have Anastasia Perkins' name on an exclusive contract, quite by happy accident, she'd stumbled across a man who made the most amazing all-natural scented soy candles—and signed him, too.

  After an inauspicious start to her journey, three days later, she had carried out her goal—with a bonus.

  As if sensing her buoyant mood, the weather took a turn for the better. The unrelenting rain had cleared. The sky was blue. The sun shone like a bright-yellow jewel in a spectacular cloudless sky.

  Jordyn had spent several nights in a comfortable and centrally located little B&B, but for all her success, she was anxious to get home. Unfortunately, a wrong turn had taken her into a thickly wooded area and onto a bumpy unpaved road.

  Frowning, Jordyn glanced at the navigation system. No satellite signal flashed across the screen. Great. First, the thing sent her in the wrong direction, then, it conked out altogether.

  The best thing she could do was to turn around and go back the way she came. Easier said than done. Frustrated, Jordyn took the next turn at a faster speed than she should have, only to find the road ahead washed out.

  Too late to do anything but hit her brakes, turn the wheel, and pray, Jordyn did all three simultaneously. She managed to miss the gaping hole in the road.

  She wasn't as lucky with the huge pine tree.

  Jordyn sat for a moment to assess the situation—and give her heart—now lodged in her throat—a chance to resume something resembling a natural rhythm.

  Physically, she was fine, the deployed airbag cushioning the blow. However, she felt a bit woozy. A combination of the sudden, jarring jolt to her system and a massive rush of adrenaline.

  Nothing on the dashboard was operational. No flashing lights. No voice asking if she needed assistance. Nothing. Not even a pathetic—yet hopeful—blip.

  Great. She'd paid thousands of dollars for a state of the art safety net, and the first time she took a tumble, the thing turned out to have a big fat gaping hole right in the center.

  Jordyn unbuckled her seatbelt, sliding from the driver's seat. A bruise or two, but she was almost positive no serious damage had been done.

  Reaching in the backseat, she took her phone from her purse.

  Come on! No signal? Cursing, Jordyn reared back, ready to kick the nearest inanimate object. Then she reminded herself. She was lucky she wasn't injured. The last thing she needed was to break her foot after the accident.

  What had people done BC? Before cell phones? They walked.

  The homes in this area were few and far between. Taking a mental rewind through her journey, Jordyn tried to remember the last place she passed where she could find a phone. At least five miles. Maybe ten.

  Resigned, she opened her suitcase, changed from some cute, but impractical boots into a pair of running shoes. She always carried an emergency backpack. Water. Non-perishable food. A first aid kit. She added her phone, slipping into a warm jacket over her sweater and jeans.

  Jordyn slung the pack over her shoulder, locked the SUV, and started back the way she'd come. Once she hit the main road, she would head west—down the mountain.

  One bonus in her favor. The day was still young. Without the light of day to guide her way, she would have stayed put until morning. Hopefully, she'd find help before she had to worry about finding shelter.

  She hadn't taken more than a few dozen steps when a rustling at the side of the road caught her attention. Jordyn wasn't a fan of the woman as victim horror movies. However, she knew the scenario.

  Alone. In the middle of nowhere—woods were a good example. The woman hears a noise. Ignores the instinct that tells her to run. Slash, slash. Dead woman.

  A walk through the wilderness? Piece of cake. However, just to be safe, she took her handy-dandy Swiss Army knife from the pack, unfurling the biggest, sharpest blade.

  The noise grew louder, her grip on her weapon tightened. When the weeds parted, Jordyn was ready to do battle. Instead, she let out a relieved breath as a yellow puppy scampered onto the road, tongue lolling to one side. Big brown eyes, hopeful and adoring.

  "Well, hello." Going to one knee, Jordyn scooped the wiggling body into her arms. "Are you lost?

  Jordyn took the whimper and the wet nose pressing to her neck as a yes.

  "I could use some company." She scratched behind the puppy's floppy ear. "Why don't you come with me? We might run into somebody looking for you. Or somebody who knows who you belong to. And can help me out of my current quandary."

  "Hey," Jordyn frowned. "Do you smell something?"

  As if the dog understood every word, she raised her head, breathing deeply.

  "Wood smoke. There must be a house nearby." She looked around. "And there we go."

  The plume of smoke was clear as day and easy to follow. Feeling a burst of renewed energy—and a definitive goal in sight—Jordyn exited the road.

  With no discernable path to follow, Jordyn pushed her way through the thick undergrowth, tucking the puppy into her jacket. Free hands meant better balance. And she could protect her face from low hanging branches.

  "I know what you're thinking." She looked at the face peering from the zippered opening. "An isolated cabin is another horror movie trope. But this is real life. We'll be fine. Trust me."

  Trudging along, Jordyn chuckled at herself. Talking to a dog wasn't strange. Explaining why they weren't about to get mowed down by a chainsaw-wielding psycho? Her grin widened. Okay. She had to admit the subject of their one-sided conversation fell under the category of slightly odd.

  "I'll make you a deal. If we meet up with any crazy woodsmen—or an equally whacked-out relative—you go for their ankles. I'll take care of everything else."

  In the way of agreement, the puppy licked Jordyn's chin before closing her eyes for a nap. The sound of her steady breathing was somehow comforting.

  Jordyn had considered getting a dog. However, she traveled so much, she would have to leave the animal with her family too much of the time. On the other hand, for road trips, the company would be nice.

  "What do you think, girl? Would we be a good match?"

  The dog snuffled, burrowing further into her warm cocoon.

  "I'll take your answer as a firm maybe. Either way, I'll find you a good home, sweetheart. Guaranteed."

  As the brush began to thin, Jordyn noticed a definite trail beneath her feet. Another five minutes and she could see what looked to be a clearing straight ahead. She peered through the last of the trees.

  A lake? Lucky cabin owner.

  The clear-blue body of water was a decent size. Big enough for a dock where a small boat—equipped with an outboard motor—was moored. The sun sparkled off the surface. Dazzling. Inviting. If the calendar read July instead of March, Jordyn—sweaty and more than a little smudged from her hike—would have considered jumping in.

  However, the thermometer hugged fifty degrees, not eighty. Just the thought of how cold the lake had to be m
ade her shiver.

  Jordyn was about to walk toward the cabin but stopped in her tracks when something broke the surface of the water. Not something. Someone. A man, she realized as she watched the strokes of his powerful arms eat up the distance between him and the shore.

  The man stopped at the end of the long dock, resting his forearms on the damp wood as he shook his head, long hair spraying water in every direction. Jordyn's eyes narrowed, then widened in surprise.

  "Is that…?" she whispered to herself in disbelief.

  In one fluid moment, the man lifted himself from the water, his body glistening. Tall. Muscled. Wet. And completely naked.

  "Hello, Murphy."

  Though Jordyn's invasion of the man's privacy had been purely accidental, the greedy way her eyes looked him up and down—and up again—wasn't. She knew she should turn away. Yet—without a smidgeon of guilt—she continued to enjoy the view.

  Spectacular. And brave. Swimming in an ice-cold lake had to take balls. Big ones. Speaking of which. Jordyn took a deep breath. Every bit of the man, he was on the extra-large size. From his height to his muscles to the appendage between his legs.

  If icy water equaled shrinkage on all men, nature had been very, very kind to Murphy.

  "Oh, no you don't," Jordyn admonished when the puppy tried to see what all the fuss was about. "This show is too X-rated for your young eyes."

  Grateful she wasn't in Murphy's direct line of sight, Jordyn decided to retreat into the woods. Once he was inside the cabin, she'd wait a reasonable amount of time before she knocked on the door—enough time so he wouldn't suspect she'd witnessed his exit from the lake.

  Unfortunately, the puppy had other ideas. As Jordyn quietly backed away, her new friend squirmed. And whined. She wanted down and made her feelings clear. She didn't appreciate Jordyn's attempts to stop her.

  Worried she might cause the animal injury, Jordyn loosened her grip just long enough for the puppy to slide from the jacket. Naturally, she hit the ground running—straight toward Murphy.

  Jordyn froze. Great. Freaking fantastic. Before she could stage a graceful exit, the dog ran smack-dab into Murphy's shin.