Blushing in the Big Leagues

I have one simple rule: Don’t date professional baseball players. There are no exceptions, no workarounds. “What if—” No. “Could he—” Nuh-uh. With a brother in the league, I’ve seen the good, the bad, and the downright horrifying. Those guys might seem tantalizing when they’re in uniform down on the field, hitting grand slams in front of a crowd of adoring fans, but I know better. The huge egos? The insane travel schedules? The veritable buffet of female companions? No ma’am. Professional athletes are best handled at a distance, preferably far enough away that their chiseled jawlines blur into oblivion. Enter Grant Navarro. He’s the baseball player to end all baseball players. The one I should have marked with a big red X the first moment I laid eyes on him. Only the night we met (and kissed—oops), I didn’t know he was my brother’s newest teammate. Imagine my shock when I realized the sexiest man in Manhattan was officially off-limits. Just my luck! Let the record show that I had every