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head caught him just beneath the chin, and he bit
down on his tongue when his jaw snapped closed. He just barely managed to keep
from swearing. Now he was really dizzy, and he swayed slightly on his feet.
    “Oh! I’m so sorry.” Emma reached out and grabbed him by the
shirt.
    The sound of material ripping seemed as loud as a clap of
thunder, and was no less devastating for Mike. After ten years of wearing his
lucky weekend tee shirt through numerous baseball games and fishing trips
without anything more than a beer stain marring it, she’d managed to ruin it in
the space of a few seconds. He opened his mouth in an effort to tell her it was
okay, but the lie wouldn’t come.
    “Oh my god.” She stood back with her hand over her mouth,
peering at him with rounded eyes. “I think you were safer out on the field.”
    Was she trying to be cute? Mike looked at her with his good
eye. The other one was half-closed by the swelling. His hand examined the
damage to his shirt, fingering the torn edges of material. His gut told him it
wasn’t reparable.
    Emma’s gaze dropping prompted him into taking a closer look.
One side of his chest was exposed and running across it in three neat little
lines were the obvious marks of her nails. His smile wasn’t meant to put her at
ease. She was damn cute when she was flustered and Mike was enjoying every
minute of it.
    “You’ve put your mark on me.”
    “I’m not usually this inept.” They watched the scratches
bead up with blood. “Goodness, you look like you’ve been in a fight.”
    She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his chest, giving
Mike the unexpected urge to rip the rest of his shirt off. Hell, the way Emma
made him feel he wouldn’t stop at just his shirt. He had the sudden urge to
grab her to him and find out if her mouth was as soft and inviting as it
appeared. Then maybe she’d scratch him again for a different reason. In spite
of the innocence that cloaked her he bet she was a real fireball in bed.
    The thought made Mike hot, that and the image of them
fucking like there was no tomorrow that was dancing around in his head. The
wild urge to find out pulsed through his blood. He glanced around. Wouldn’t
that put on an X-rated show for the town?
    “Are you all right? Your color doesn’t look so good. There’s
a funny glaze in your, ah, good eye.”
    There was no denying the concern in her voice as she began
to run her gaze over him like a mother hen looking over her brood. He didn’t
respond.
    “Officer Denton?”
    Hell, maybe he had a concussion. His pulse was racing, that
was for sure. At the very least his blood pressure was rising at an alarming
rate. He struggled for control. “I think we’re past the formality stage, don’t
you?” He indicated his torn shirt.
    “I’m so sorry about your shirt.” Her face turned a becoming
shade of pink. “I’ll buy you another one.”
    Once again her gaze ran over his exposed chest, which wasn’t
doing anything to cool Mike off. His cock was tingling with awareness, which
meant he was getting a hard-on. Damn! Definitely the wrong place and the
wrong time.
    “I don’t know if I should put this ice on your eye or your
scratches.”
    She could barely look him in the eye.
    Mike took a deep breath. He knew what he’d like to say. The
hell with his eye; no amount of ice was going to help it anyway. However, ice
on his chest might help cool down the sudden heat boiling in his blood. Damn,
he hoped he wasn’t obvious. But his body was having a very obvious reaction to
Emma. His gaze shot out to the field, trying to gauge where the game was and
when his team would be heading back in. The last thing he wanted was for them
to return and see the state he was in.
    “Maybe you’d better sit down,” Emma suggested as the silence
stretched between them.
    She took him by the arm and guided him to the bench.
    “I hope you don’t have a concussion.”
    Mike sat down without resistance. She moved in close, and
raised her