Second Thoughts: A Hot Baseball Romance Read Online Free PDF

broken nail-clippers and the pens that didn’t write.
    No, they’d both ended up living their dreams, just not with each other. Jamie had told him she was going to succeed as a photographer the first time he took her out for coffee, and he’d believed her. After all, in that same conversation he’d said that he was going to play professional ball for a living.
    He snorted and looked around the living room. This place wasn’t a lot more civilized than the dorm room where they’d broken things off. In fact, it pretty much looked like the double he’d shared with Jimbo senior year, absent the bunked beds in a corner.
    Jimbo. Maybe he should give him a call. They could shoot the shit, maybe get in a round of golf that afternoon.
    Right. Like Jim could just drop his law practice and take off on a random afternoon. It was that whole off-season thing, all over again.
    Yeah, right. Some fucking dream he was living. He was sitting in the middle of a barely-furnished apartment that screamed “bachelor pad,” watching crappy television news, and thinking about the one who got away.
    And the worst part was, not one of the guys on the team would understand. Sure, they’d buy him a beer and let him talk. But they’d never really get what he was saying. They’d never understand that playing second base for an over-500 team in the majors could leave a hole in his heart as wide as the Grand Canyon.
    What the hell was wrong with him?
    Nick picked up the remote and flipped through a dozen channels. Crap. It was all crap.
    He swore and snagged his computer from the coffee table. Maybe his agent had sent him email. Maybe one of those endorsement deals had finally come through, the one for the local Mercedes dealership, or the men’s clothing shop. Like Nick would ever look like a polished TV spokesman…
    He shook his head. It was all smoke and mirrors. If he won the endorsements, they’d do things with makeup and lights, make him seem better than he really was. That was their job.
    Just like it had been Jamie’s job to shoot him yesterday. She’d stood in front of him, holding her camera with the ease and command he’d first seen eleven years before. She’d told him how to pose, reminded him to keep his chin down, and suddenly it was like they were back in the studio of the old classroom building where she’d first worked. He was helping her out with a class project, serving as her ever-willing model, letting her experiment with exposures and backdrops and a million different settings on her camera.
    His dick twitched, egging him on to remember more of the time they’d shared, more of the things they’d done for four perfect years of college.
    But his brain was a little wiser. He’d destroyed Jamie seven years ago. Scorched the earth, ignoring her every single day since graduation. There was never going to be anything with Jamie ever again. Not a chance. Not a prayer. Christ, he was lucky she’d even talked to him that afternoon.
    He went back to his email inbox.
    There was one of those annoying follow-ups from that dating site where he’d posted his profile. What was it, three months ago? He’d been on the road, feeling sorry for himself in a hotel room somewhere in the Midwest. It must have been the Twin Cities; he’d just finished reading Main Street and hadn’t wanted to launch into another book in the middle of the night. But he’d seen the website ads on TV a million times, and he’d decided to post the profile just to make the time go by.
    He’d obviously done a piss-poor job of it, too, because he’d had about four hits the entire time he’d been online. That was the hazard of typing in a credit card number and letting the profile ride—he’d pretty much forgotten about the damned thing.
    But someone had finally sent him a message. RoadWarrior, Someone Wants to Meet You! said the email. Just his luck. The day he finally got back in touch with Jamie, and someone got around to responding to his