Man of the Year. Lisa Ruff

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      “Give me a chance, Sammy. If we’re going to be working closely together—”

      “I assure you, we’re not going to be spending that much time together, Mr. Corliss.”

      “Jarrett. Please.” His eyes were an innocent blue, but the dimple in his cheek gave his teasing away. Samantha felt a smile tug at her lips. Really, he was too charming for his own good—or hers.

      “Jarrett,” she said reluctantly. “No matter what we call each other, my answer is still no. Besides, I don’t date people I work with.”

      He frowned at that, all teasing gone from his face. “We aren’t working together. I pitch baseballs, you pitch the team.”

      “That is working together,” she insisted calmly. “At least we both work for the same man. And Andrew Elliott has definite ideas about how he wants the team run this year. One of them is that no one from my company gets personally involved with the team.”

      “I can’t believe Elliott cares diddly about us having dinner.”

      “Trust me, he does. He wants business to stay business.”

      “It’ll be our secret then.”

      “This conversation is ridiculous. It doesn’t matter what Andrew Elliott thinks—even though I happen to agree with him. I said no, thank you. That’s all I have to say.” Exasperated by his stubborn arrogance, she turned and walked toward the stands.

      Jarrett followed every step of the way. “Then what about you and Boomer?”

      “Boomer?” She looked over at him, thrown off by the mention of her brother. “What does he have to do with this?”

      “If you agree with Elliott, then what are you doing cozying up to Boomer? You two were pretty chummy in the locker room the other day.”

      Samantha tilted her head, looking up at him, confused by the direction the conversation had taken. What was he talking about? Then, in a flash, she realized. He thought she had a thing going with Boomer. The very idea made her want to laugh. “Boomer’s different.”

      “I’ll say. So what’s Elliott think about you and him?” Jarrett said with a scowl. “If he gave his blessing to your seeing some second-rate left fielder, I don’t see why he’d object to you having dinner with a starting pitcher.”

      “Boomer is not second-rate.”

      Jarrett snorted. “Okay, I’ll take that back. He gets the job done. I just wouldn’t trust guys like him.”

      “What do you mean, ‘guys like him’?”

      “Guys who think the rules are made for everyone else but them.”

      “That’s who you think Boomer is?”

      “I do.”

      Samantha folded her arms. “Why do you think that?”

      He was silent.

      “Come on, Jarrett,” she prompted. “Out with it. What rules are we talking about? What rules has he broken?”

      “Rules like corking your bat, gambling on the team, you name it, he’d do it.”

      “Has he actually done those things?”

      “Not that I know about,” Jarrett admitted. “Maybe he’s done something worse that no one knows about. I wouldn’t put it past him. Boomer’s the kind of guy who’s going to get caught someday doing something illegal and probably stupid. He’s too arrogant.”

      Samantha would have laughed if she hadn’t been so angry. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. She shook her head. “I don’t think you know him at all, Jarrett. I don’t know how you could, you’ve only been on the team—”

      “I don’t need any time at all to know what Boomer is like. It’s plain for anyone with half a brain to see.” Jarrett threw his hands up in the air and stalked a short distance away before turning to face her again. “Come on, Samantha, he’d steal from his grandmother if it suited him, and he’d sleep like a baby at night afterward.”

      “He would not.”

      “Yeah, he would. He’s got the least conscience of anyone I’ve ever met. You think you’re special to him?” he asked with a sneer. “Don’t bet on it. He’s juggling more women than any man I’ve ever known.”

      “It’s not like that—”

      “No? So, it doesn’t bother you to hear you’re just one of the harem?”

      “No. Even if it were true,” Samantha said in a cold, furious voice. “Because if you had half a brain, you’d know that Boomer James is my brother.”

      With a contemptuous look, she turned her back on Jarrett and stalked away. Too angry to think, she stomped up the steps, through the tunnel, to the nearest exit. Just as she pushed the door open, Jarrett caught up to her and grabbed her by the arm.

      “I’m sorry. I am an idiot. I didn’t even know the guy had a last name.”

      “Most people do, Mr. Corliss.” Samantha glared at him, then at the hand that restrained her. He dropped her arm.

      “I’m sorry for what I said about Boomer. I thought—”

      “Forget it.”

      “Please let me make it up to you, Samantha,” Jarrett pleaded. “I’d really like to take you to dinner.”

      She laughed incredulously. “No thanks. I think we’ve spent enough time chatting.”

      “Please, Samantha.”

      She reined in her anger. “Look, Jarrett, you’re entitled to your opinion about my brother. I think—I know—you’re wrong, but I’m not going to argue about it. I accept your apology. Let’s just leave it at that.”

      Their eyes warred for a moment. She could tell he wanted to keep arguing, but he held his tongue. Not too bright, but he was learning. He had dug himself a hole from which there was no easy way out. She pushed the door open and walked away without another word. This time, he didn’t follow.

      Back at Emerald Advertising, the expectant faces of her entire staff eagerly welcomed Samantha’s return, like a nest full of baby birds waiting with hungry mouths wide open. She was still furious with Jarrett and would have preferred to fume privately in her office. But she couldn’t let that anger spill over onto this moment. Her staff had worked too hard this past week and deserved a bit of jubilation.

      “Well? How did it go?” Brenda demanded. “Did they like it?”

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