Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Thrown by a Curve by Jaci Burton

Play by Play #5
Alicia has a job with the Rivers, the same team her cousin Gavin plays baseball for. She is in sports medicine. Her first big assignment is to rehab the pitcher's right arm. Garrett has not been doing what he needs to do to get his arm back in shape. They start working together and Alicia is tough on him. He is a whiner. When the team heads down to Florida for Spring Training he tries to skip out on therapy, but Alicia hunts him down and makes him work. But first they take a trip to Oklahoma and then onto Florida.
Garrett is doing well with Alicia's therapy. But their attraction for each other is getting hard to take. Will she give in?  What will happen if she does?

I loved this story. Alicia had a job to do and didn't let anything get in the way, even her love for Garrett.

From the author:
She thinks she knows this player—but he has a few surprise moves.
For Alicia Riley, her job as a sports therapist for the St. Louis Rivers baseball team is a home run—until she becomes the primary therapist for star pitcher, Garrett Scott. Out of the lineup with an injury, he's short-tempered, hard to handle, and every solid inch, a man.
Right now, the only demand he's making on Alicia is that she get him ready to pitch in time for opening day. Except the sexual chemistry between them is so charged, Alicia's tempted to oblige Garrett just about anything. But both their careers are at stake—one bad move and it's game over for both of them.
Garrett also feels the hot sparks between them, and the way he figures it, what better therapy is there than sex? Now all he has to do is convince the woman with the power to make the call.


Chapter One

Garrett Scott sat in the St. Louis Rivers therapy room facing an entire team of sports medicine specialists, all wearing looks of doom on their faces.
From the team doctor to the therapists who’d been working on his shoulder for the past six months, their faces said it all—he wasn’t ready to pitch yet.
He was tired of it. Tired of being molded and manipulated and poked and prodded like some kind of experiment. His shoulder wasn’t getting any better, and he still couldn’t throw a pitch. He was done. His career was over, and no amount of fake hopeful expressions would make him believe any differently.
“Let’s go over to the pulley’s,” Max said. “If we increase the weight . . .”
“No. It’s not going to help. I don’t have my full range of motion, and no pulleys, no weighted balls, no water therapy, and no amount of stretching is going to get it back.”
“You don’t know that, Garrett,” Max said. As head of the sports medicine team, when Max had a plan, everyone listened. “We haven’t finished your therapy, and the season hasn’t started yet. There’s plenty of time.”
Phil, the team doctor, nodded. “Max is right. You haven’t given it enough time.”
Garrett glared at them both. “I said no. This has been going nowhere, and we all know it.”
Everyone started talking at once, but it was all white noise to him. They were blowing smoke up his ass about how he was going to pitch come April.
He’d heard it before, all the pats on the back and the encouragement that didn’t mean anything if you couldn’t get a ball across the plate. They were just words. Empty promises.
The only one who didn’t say anything was the woman hovering in the background. Dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, she wore the same team-color polo shirt and khaki pants as the men, and held a digital notebook. And she was giving him a look. A pissed-off one.
“You haven’t said anything,” he said, focusing his gaze on her. “What do you think?”
She blinked and held her notebook close to her chest. “Me?”
“I’m not in charge of your recovery. There are people here with much more experience than me.”
“You’ve watched my therapy, haven’t you?”
“Then what do you think?”
They all turned to her, watching and waiting. She finally shrugged. “I think your team is right. You’ll pitch.”
She moved forward, and he got a good look at her. Despite the ugly uniforms they all wore, she was pretty, one of the two women on the sports therapy team. He’d thought them interchangeable and hadn’t paid much attention, because they were both brunettes, just blurs passing by while he was doing therapy with Max and some of the other senior members of the team. Now that she was closer, he really noticed this one. She had dark hair, stunning blue eyes, and a pretty mouth; he was definitely paying attention now that she’d spoken.
“My arm is stiff.”
“Because you’re babying it, because you won’t give it your all. Your therapists know what they’re doing, but you fight them.”
As soon as she said it, her eyes widened. Max crossed his arms, and Garrett could tell he was pissed.
Garrett wasn’t. His lips quirked. “Go on.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“Yeah, you did. You’ve sat back quietly for all these months, and you obviously have something on your mind. Spill it.”
She looked up at Max, who shook his head.
“Don’t look at him,” Garrett said. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
She sat next to him on the bench and laid her notebook down, her gaze lifting to his.

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