Various States of Undress Read Online Free Page A

the motions of pinning down the interview with the catcher, but that could wait ten minutes, couldn’t it? “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
    â€œPlease do.” Ship clapped a hand on Monty’s shoulder and ushered him through the door.
    When the men had lumbered down the steps, Georgia turned to Ernie and Stan. “Guys? I need a moment to . . . process my life.” They nodded and stationed themselves just outside the open doorway. Dimly, she heard voices from the stairwell, and then the door at the bottom of the stairs shut. Ernie and Stan muttered to each other for a moment and after that—silence.
    Georgia sighed in relief and glanced around the large room, which was made up of tiered platforms, with table space for reporters. She stared out the wall of windows for a moment, which offered an eagle-eye view of the playing field, and then she walked around a large post in the middle of the room and put her briefcase on a table.
    After unscrewing the bottle cap, she leaned against the post and took a healthy swig of water. Too healthy, because some of it escaped her lips and splashed down the front of her blouse. “Great,” she muttered and lifted her blouse out of her skirt to flap it against her body. “Now all I need are some peanuts and Cracker Jack, and I’ll be all set for a fun time.”
    There was a low laugh behind her and she snickered in response. Ernie and Stan—as far as Secret Service agents went—were pretty funny people. They always got her wry humor. “Go ahead, guys, laugh it up.”
    Nobody answered, so she peeked around the post, pushing hair from her eyes.
    â€œGuys?”
    â€œUh. Hi.”
    Georgia splayed her hand over the front of her wet blouse and stared. The impossibly tanned guy standing just inside the doorway, wearing a tight T-shirt, jeans, and a smile, was as still as a statue. A statue with fathomless, unblinking chocolate-brown eyes. She let her gaze drop from his face to his broad chest. “Oh. Hello. I was expecting someone else.”
    He didn’t comment, but when she lifted her gaze again, past his wide shoulders and carved chin, she watched his smile turn into a grin, revealing way-too-sexy brackets at the corners of his mouth. He walked down the steps and onto the platform where she stood. He had to be at least six foot three, and testosterone poured off him like heat waves on the field below. She shouldn’t stare at him, right? Damn. Her gaze flicked from him toward the glass wall but moved right back again.
    â€œScared of heights?” he asked. His voice was a slow Southern drawl and deep. Sexy deep. “Maybe you oughta sit down.”
    â€œNo, thanks. I was just . . . looking for something.” Looking for something? Like what—a tryst with a stranger in the press box? Her face heated and she clutched the water bottle, the plastic making a snapping sound under her fingers. “So . . . how did you get past my agents?”
    He smiled again. “They know who I am.”
    â€œAnd you are?”
    â€œBrett Knox.”
    His name sounded familiar. “Okay. I’m Georgia Fulton. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, putting down her water.
    He shook her hand briefly. “You too. But I just came up here to let you know that I’m declining the interview. Too busy.”
    Georgia felt herself nodding in agreement even as she realized exactly who Brett Knox was. He was the star catcher—and right in front of her, shooting her down before she’d even had a chance to ask. Such a typical jock.
    â€œI’m busy, too, which is why I’d like to set up a time that’s convenient for both of us,” she said, even though she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. But she couldn’t very well walk into the news station without accomplishing what she’d been tasked with—pinning him down. Georgia was a team player. So was Brett,