Hey guys! I just want to say thank you for the Reviews and follows/favorites! Like I said before the story, Remember When, is on hiatus! I am completely blocked in what to write next! I am so sorry for bailing on you guys! I have really tried but I just can't finish it at the moment. I am so excited for this story and it would really mean a lot to me if you guys would favorite, follow, and review/read the story.

Remember, I do not own the characters and I own only some of the plot! Thanks guys!

Chapter 2

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Damon's back was to her as he kicked up a bit of dust around the base. But Elena didn't strain to get a look of his face. At the moment, she didn't need to- his build was slimming and tall, but still muscular. Six-one she estimated, about 170 pounds of pure muscle. She leaned her elbow on the rail, resting her chin on her now sweaty hands.

He's lanky, she thought. He will show off clothes well. As Damon dipped down to snatch a grounder, her thoughts disappeared. Something intruded her professional survey that she quickly pushed aside. How he moved. Catlike? No, she shook her head, no he was all man. Xxxxx xxxxxxx RULESxxxxxxxxxxxxx OFxxxxxxxxxxx ATTRACTIONxxxxxxxxxxxx

She held her breath as he went for another grounder. His arm muscles flexing from his jersey, as he throws to the first baseman. He moved effortlessly, but she sensed a tight control as he stepped, bent, pivoted. It was a fluid motion- feet, legs, hips, and arm. If she kept him moving, it wouldn't matter of he couldn't say his own name on camera.

Even when he stood, there was an unexpected sexuality. It might just work out after all, Elena reflected as her eyes roamed his body, brushing over the black tussled hair that sprang around the sides and back of his cap. It might just…

Then he turned. Elena found herself staring into his face. His icy blue eyes, fierce and warlike, staring deep into the depths of her soul. His face fit his body structure, tall and lean with the perfect amount of muscles. What Elena had been expecting was not what she got. It hadn't been this tough, uncompromisingly sexy face or her own reaction to it.

As his name was shouted from a fan in the stands, his grin appeared, transforming him into a friendly, approachable man with an aura of easy charm. Her muscles finally relaxed.

"So- what do you think of him?"

A bit dazed, Elena leaned back in her chair, "He might work- he moves well."

"From what I've heard,"Jenna said dryly, "you haven't seen anything yet."

As usual, Jenna was right. In the first inning, Damon made a diving catch along the baseline at third for the final out. He batted third, hitting a double to center field, bringing in one RBI. He played with an enthusiasm of a kid and the diabolical determination of a veteran. She didn't have to know anything about the game to know his power was unstoppable.

After polishing off another hotdog, she resumed her spot on the rail. The Yankees were up 2-1, top of the seventh inning. The crowd was frantic. It was still hot on the diamond. A breeze picked up speed, fluttering the American flag and cooled the spectators high up in the stands, but below, under the lights, the air was thick. Damon felt the sweat run down the back of his neck as he stood on the infield grass. Jones, the pitcher, was falling behind on the batter. Damon knew Rashers to be a power hitter who pulled to the left. He planted himself and waited. In that millisecond he had to options: one- catch the ball that was lined hard at him or two- end up with a hole in his chest. He went with the first one and caught the ball. He felt the vibration throughout his hand as he made the final out of the inning.

A routine catch, most would say. Damon was surprised that ball didn't carry him out of the stadium. "Have any leather left on your glove?" the second baseman shouted to Damon. Giving a smirk and chuckling, he shook his head. "Barely." Heading back into the dugout he looked up. Catching eyes with Elena, surprising them both.

Out of surprise, Damon slowed a bit. That's a face, he thought, one you don't see every day. She looked like she came out of a magazine. The tanned skin caused tingles to run through his hands, and not because of the catch he had. Those deep brown eyes played games with his mind. He felt an immediate tightening in his stomach. The face exuded cool, forbidden sex. His eyes never leaving hers. She stared back at him without a blink or blush, not smiling as most fans would do if they were bold, or looking away if too shy. She just stared, Damon thought, as if she were dissecting him. With simultaneous twinges of annoyance and curiosity, he stepped into the dugout.

Thinking about her as he sat on the bench, getting ready to go on deck. Every game was important from now on if they were to maintain their lead and win the division pennant. Damon had the pressure of having a four hundred batting average for the year. It was something he tried not to think about, but was constantly reminded of by the press. He watched the leadoff batter ground out and thought of the brown-eyed beauty in the box behind third.

Why had she looked at him like that? As if she wondered how he would look on a trophy case. With a soft sigh, Damon rose and put on his batting helmet. He had to stop thinking about that little number in the stands and more on the game taking place. They couldn't lose this otherwise they would be out of the playoffs. Jones was slowing down, and the Yankees needed some insurance runs.

The second batter hit it to right and beat out the ball. Damon went to stand on deck. He seated his hands on the barrel of his bat, stretching it above his head. Bases are loaded when he steps up to the plate. Two outs-he either sets the game up for a win for the Yankees or for the opponents. Taking a deep breath, he gets in the ready stance. The first ball-an inside curve- strike one. The second pitch was a wild one- looking at the umpire; he gives him a nod and holds up his left hand. Ball one. After another strike and two more balls, his count is full. Patience is one of the greatest things about Damon. Waiting for that pitch, seeing the fastball come flying at him, he knew he wanted this one. Taking the swing at the perfect timing, meat of the bat hitting meat of the ball. Crowd cheering as over one hundred eyes follow the white and red ball over the grass and into the stands.

"isn't this great? It's his thirty-sixth homerun this season. A very talented young man."

Elena didn't care though. She was so fascinated with this man. As he jogged around the bases, coming to third he locks eyes with Elena. There was that same amount of intensity in her eyes. Her eyes never faltering as he turned home. Elena wasn't about to admit that her heart rate increased after each eye contact they made with each other. She knew his type- good-looking, successful, and heartless. She met them every day. "He'll look good on camera." Was all she could say.

"He'll look good anywhere." Jenna laughed with a comfortable pleasure.

Elena gave a shrug. As the game went into the eighth inning, she didn't watch the game, or the players, only Damon. She remained the same, chin on rail, edge of her seat, boots crossed at the ankle. There was something about him she concluded. Something beyond the obvious attraction, the basic sexuality. It was that looseness of movement overlying the discipline. That is what she wanted to capture. The combination would do more than sell Lockwood Sports' clothes, it would typify them. All she had to do was guide Damon Salvatore through the steps.

Athletic shots, that's what would fit him. She'd have him swinging a bat in some of the clothes he was selling. She didn't want the usual adoring stares; she wanted the realness of him to shine through the camera.

The ball was hit high and to the left. Curving foul, Damon chasing after it, racing all the way to the seats. Before it dropped into the crowd for rows back. Elena found herself face-to-face with him, close enough to smell his faint muskiness of sweat and see it running down the side of his face. Their eyes met again, but she didn't move, partly because she was interested, partly because she was paralyzed. The only thing that showed in her eyes was mild curiosity. Behind them there was shouts of triumph as someone snagged the foul as a trophy.

Enraged, Damon stared back at her, "Your name?" he said in mild undertones.

He had that fierce, dangerous look on his face again. Elena schooled her voice to calmness. "Elena."

"All of it, damn it," Damon muttered. Pressed for time and furious with himself. He watched one thin eye brow lift and found himself wanting to yank her out of the stands.

"Gilbert," Elena told him smoothly. "Is the game over?"

Damon narrowed his eyes before he moved away. Elena heard him speak softly, "It's just beginning."

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Elena had been expecting the call- after all, he does have her full name, and her name is in the book. It's right below her uncle, John Gilbert. But she had not been expecting the call at five-thirty on a Saturday morning.

Tiredly, she reached for the phone as it kept on ringing, over and over again, managing to grip the receiver as the cradle fell heavily to the floor. "Helloooo?" she mumbled without opening her eyes.

"Elena Gilbert?"

"Mmmm." She snuggled back into the pillow. "Yeah."

"It's Damon Salvatore."

Immediately alert, she sat up and opened her eyes. The light was soft and dim with dawn, early birds just beginning to chirp. She fumbled for the dented windup alarm beside her bed, and then scowled at the time. Biting back a torrent of abuse, she kept her voice soft and sulky. "Who?"

Damon shifted the receiver to his other hand and scowled. "Damon Salvatore, third base. The Yankees game the other night."

Taking her time thinking, making him squirm under the receiver. "Oh." Was all she said, but a smile flashed on her face wickedly.

"Look, I want to see you. We're flying back after the game in Los Angelos this afternoon. How about a late dinner?" why was he doing this? He asked himself as he paced small steps in his small hotel room. And why, in God's name, wasn't he doing it with a bit more style.

"Dinner," Elena repeated languidly while her mind worked fast. Want it just like his type to expect a woman to have no plans that couldn't be altered to suit him? Her first instinct was to give him a cold refusal, and then her sense of the ridiculous got the better of her. "Well…" she drew out the word. "Maybe. What time?"

"I'll pick you up at nine," Damon told her, ignoring the maybe. When he couldn't get a woman out of his head for three days, he was going to find out why. "I've got the address."

"All right, Damien, see you at nine."

"Damon," he corrected tersely and broke the connection.

Falling back on to the pillow, Elena started to laugh. Getting up, she headed for her closet. Hoping to find something that made her look irresistible, she would play him hard tonight. Finding this black cocktail dress, she started to curl her hair and put on some of her makeup. The dress was a low cut strapless dress. It clenched at the waist, showing off her long lean figure. Tonight she was going to make this Damon Salvatore go crazy.

Well… there you have it! next chapter will be the date and maybe something more;) hope you like it. if you do, please review. It really means a lot to me! Thanks for reading it !

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-Autumn