Much like her stomach.

In the work aspect of her life, she was extremely comfortable. That was a given. She’d been raised by men: her father, her uncle, her brother, and her cousins were all tough, implacable, unforgiving alpha males. Failure had never been an option, which translated to being very good at whatever she tackled. Unfortunately for her more womanly parts, all she’d tackled lately was the job.

A job she loved with all her heart, but sometimes she yearned for more. Maybe one of these days a man would sweep her off her feet and then into bed, but it wouldn’t be today, and it wouldn’t be with the guy she’d been tasked with babysitting.

The Heat had played last night. It was the first week of April, and it’d been an exhibition game, a prelude to their season opener on Sunday. They’d played the Padres, and it’d turned out to be surprisingly down and dirty. Wade had hit a homer in the second inning, then been harshly walked in the third when the pitcher had hit him in the thigh with a throwaway pitch. The game had gone two extra innings, until past midnight, when the Heat had finally won on Wade’s double, so Sam expected him to be exhausted and probably sore as hell. Maybe she’d even have to pull him out of bed.

The thought brought concern, and a secret tingle to those womanly parts she’d been neglecting.

Nice to know they still worked.

As she reached for the limo door handle, Wade’s front door opened, and six feet of rugged, lean, muscled male stepped out in Levi’s and an untucked blue and white striped button-down. A gust of wind molded his clothes against the body that tended to make Sam’s tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.

Wade stopped to slide on his sunglasses, the picture of a California surfer, all easygoing, laid-back charm.

He’d been a rock star in another life, Sam was convinced, and she purposely let out a breath and leaned back, reminding herself he was just a guy. A flawed guy at that, though certainly none of his flaws happened to be showing at the moment.