“You should move to Boston and go to work in one of the chi-chi bars there. You’d be the toast of the town.”
Mallory topped off Becka’s water. “Newport’s actually looking more likely.”
“Your visit there worked out?”
“Maybe.” Mallory moved her head noncommittally. “I’ve seen a couple of places that could work. Now I just have to talk my big brother into coming into it with me. It costs too much to go it alone in that town.”
“Yeah, but just think, you could meet yourself some rich Newport guy and do it up in style.”
“I’d rather get rich on my own and pick a boy toy, thanks,” Mallory laughed. “Anyway, fill me in on the latest with Baseball Boy.”
“He’s gone again.”
“For good?”
“Just for five days. He has an assignment down in Georgia, then he comes back up here.”
Mallory looked at her assessingly. “You’re not gritting your teeth when you talk about him. Does that mean that you two have worked something out?”
“I suppose. I mean, what we’ve got now is working,” she said offhandedly. At Mallory’s amused look, Becka gave a sigh. “Okay, it’s great, really. Maybe too great.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mallory took another drink of her club soda.
“I don’t want to get hooked on something I can’t have. I mean, the season ends in a few weeks and he’s off to Florida. I live up here. It’s not like we’ve got a lot of chance for happily ever after. Not that that’s what I’m looking for,” she added hastily.
“Oh, no, I’m sure it’s not,” Mallory said, deadpan.
“It would be nice to be able to just sit back and ride with it, see where it goes. Like a normal relationship.”
Mallory snorted. “Honey, there are no normal relationships.”
“You know what I mean,” Becka continued. “One where we didn’t have to have a ‘define the relationship’ conversation a month into it, where we could just let it happen until it made sense to make a decision.”
“What does Mace say? Okay, dumb question,” she said quickly as Becka’s eyes rolled skyward. “Here’s a better one: what do you want?”
Becka sighed and propped her chin on one hand. “More of this, except that it’s impossible. When the season ends, everything changes. We’ll be living in different states, I’ll have to find a new job. It raises the stakes from ‘let’s keep seeing each other’ to ‘let’s uproot our lives to be together based on a one-month affair.’” She blew out an impatient breath. “It’s impossible. We hardly know each other. It’s ridiculous to even think about making that kind of a jump. It’s too soon.”
“What is soon? Weren’t you telling me about your girlfriend whose parents married in two weeks?”
“Married?” Becka stared at her appalled. “Who said anything about married? Get a grip, Mallory.”
“I’m just saying, soon is relative,” Mallory said, unperturbed.
“This is coming from the woman who won’t even date?”
“We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”
“And I’m not talking about marriage,” Becka said emphatically.
“You like him, though.” It wasn’t stated as a question, but as a fact.
Becka leaned her head against her hands, then raised her face to peer at Mallory between her fingers. “Yeah,” she sighed, dropping her hands. “I like him a lot. He gets under your skin, you know? He was only here for a few days, and now I keep finding myself looking for him. I miss him,” she said simply.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“If I had the answer to that one, girlfriend, I wouldn’t be here crying the blues.”
MACE OPENED the bathroom door and walked out into the hotel room in a cloud of steam, a towel still slung around his shoulders. It was a typical road motel: worn shag rug in a dispirited beige, mottled tan wallpaper, cheap wall-mounted lamps with plastic shades. A polyester bedspread in muted tones of green and brown covered the king-size bed. The furniture was vintage seventies veneer ornamented with the odd cigarette burn, and a chrome rail hanging on one wall substituted for a closet.
When he’d been in the minors, he’d been so enamored of the opportunity and so focused on the goal that he’d never minded. He’d lived for the ballpark; everything else was just a waste of time. Now, things were different. He was different. Thanks to Stan and Becka, he’d found a job that meant something to him again. He’d found a way to wind up at the end of the day tired and satisfied. Unfortunately, being on the road in cheesy motels went with the territory.
Mace sat back on the bed and stared around the room. Did it bother him, the idea of staying in the tacky motels with bad mattresses, living on the road for months at a time? The alternative was a leisurely lifestyle, a beachfront home, all the relaxation and comforts he could stand. Did he miss it?
No, he thought slowly, he didn’t. What he missed was baseball. Being in a ballpark, having something to do in life, those were the types of things that he missed. He missed feeling like he’d accomplished something with his day besides surf fishing.
And he missed Becka.
The sharp longing ran through him. She was addictive—a week of daily doses had left him with a craving impossible to assuage.
It didn’t do him any good to want her when he was a thousand miles away, though. He looked on his bedside table where he’d tossed the manila envelope Sammy had given him the week before. The envelope that contained a roving instructor contract for the following year.
Mace picked up the envelope and pulled out the contract, flipping through it idly. He’d been sitting on it for days, wanting to be certain about his decision. It seemed like a big commitment to tie himself down to a job he’d only been doing a month. So what if he enjoyed it, it was probably still foolish to make such a sudden decision. Mace tapped the paper. When he was ready, he’d know.
He tried to slide the papers back into the envelope, but they caught on other things tucked inside. He tipped it upside down impatiently. In the past days, the envelope had become a catchall for schedules, per diem envelopes, airline tickets, and…
And a plain white envelope that held the Polaroids he and Becka had taken days before. Desire flowed through him, thick and hot at the sight of her naked body, of the two of them together. He flipped through the stack and swept back in time as though it were happening even then.
He couldn’t wait. He had to talk to her now, no matter what time it was. He needed to hear her voice, needed it with a singular intensity that he didn’t question. When something felt right, you just knew it.
BECKA WALKED into her apartment to hear the mechanical clunking sound of her answering machine picking up a call.
“Hey, darlin’, are you up?” She’d recognize that molasses drawl anywhere. A flush of warmth ran through her. “I thought I’d take a chance—”
She picked up the phone. “Mace? Where are you?”
“Some town in Georgia. I couldn’t sleep and I thought I might catch you up.”
“I just walked in from Mallory’s bar.”
“Oh, I get it, I leave town and Becka’s wild side comes out,” he said, making her smile. “So how’s Mallory?”
“Wrong question. Ask another, like how’s Morelli?”
“Ah. And how is our boy?”
“Oh, right about now feeling pretty sorry for himself,” she answered. “It’s his birthday and all the guys blew it off.”
Mace was silent for a moment. “That’s a drag.”
“It’s a drag when your teammates couldn’t care less about you.”
“Be fair, it’s mostly because he acts like he couldn’t care less about them.”
“I’m not sure he gets that, though.” Becka picked up the phone and walked into her kitchen to get a glass of wine. “He doesn’t seem to understand that it’s his own behavior that’s put everyone off. I think I’ve figured out why. Do you know anything about his
background?”
“Not really.”
She filled him in on the details.
“I’ll make a point of talking to Morelli when I get back. Anything else going on? I didn’t think you were much for the nightlife.”
“I don’t know, I just had an urge to go out.” Becka stroked a finger along the side of the phone. “I’ve been promising Mallory to stop in for weeks now. I figured it was about time.”
“That urge didn’t have anything to do with missing me, did it? Because I’ve definitely been missing you.”
The sarcastic response she’d been about to make died in her throat. Her lips curved into a foolish grin. “Really?”
“Yeah, really,” he said softly. “I wish I were there with you. I know what we’d be doing right now.”
“Oh really?” Becka lay back on the couch and closed her eyes. “And just what is that?”
“Well, for starters, by now I’d have you naked.”
“You think so?” she purred.
“I know so,” Mace said easily. “Guess what I found in my things here?”
“What?” Becka asked, propping a pillow behind her back.
“That photo of you. You look amazing, darlin’.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You should look like that now.”
“Meaning?”
“Unzip your shorts. Take them off.”
“And why should I do that?” she asked him smoothly even as her fingers strayed to the waistband.
“Because I can’t reach you from here,” he growled. “Don’t play hard to get with me because I can hear your zipper over the phone.”
Becka squirmed out of her shorts and lay back on the couch. “All right, they’re off, but only because you insisted.”
“I wish I were there to see it,” he whispered. “Slide your hand down your leg and up the inside of your thigh, just barely touching the skin.” His voice was husky, hypnotic in her ear, and she did what she was told. “Now tell me how it feels.”
“Sexy,” she breathed at the soft brush of her fingers, “smooth.”
“Now keep stroking, and imagine it’s my hand touching you.”
“Mmm.”
“Are you wearing those lacy things you usually have on?”
“You mean a thong?”
“Oh yeah.” She could hear him draw a breath. “Roll on your side. Your hand is my hand, and I’m running it over your thigh, up along the side, then rubbing over that sexy ass of yours. I love the way it feels, so firm in my hand. Can you feel that? Are you touching yourself?”
“Uh-huh,” she breathed, transfixed.
“Now slide your hand up under your shirt. Oh yeah, I love running my hand up your side, feeling how silky the skin is, feeling your ribs, knowing I’m getting closer to your breasts. In fact, I think we need to have your shirt come off, now.”
As though mesmerized, she did what she was told, then lay back on the couch in just her thong and bra.
“What color is your lingerie?”
“Black.”
“Black what? Slide your hand over it and tell me how it feels.”
She’d never been so outrageously aware of sensation before, so outrageously tactile. “Smooth satin on top.”
“God, the feeling’s incredible when I’m naked and you lay against me in just your lingerie. Your skin’s so warm and soft, it looks like it glows, like you could see right through it. So delicate,” he whispered. “I know how sensitive it is. Run your fingertips down your neck, slide them over your collarbone and down. Imagine it’s my hand. I’m sliding my hand down, feeling how the skin turns so incredibly thin and soft where your breasts begin. Curve your hand around your breast, slide your fingertips under your bra. That’s me, babe, close your eyes and imagine that’s me touching you.” He gave a little groan. “You feel so good. Now unfasten your bra.”
Becka flicked open the clasp on the front of her bra. Just the friction of the material against her nipples as she pulled the cups off was enough to make her gasp.
“Is it off? I’m looking at this picture of you naked and I can imagine being next to you right now, licking your nipples, sliding my hand over your breasts, down your waist and hip, running my fingers up your thigh to touch you. You know where I’m touching you. Can you feel me now? Can you feel me?”
Becka gave a soft moan at the heat of her fingers. With her eyes closed, with Mace’s voice whispering hypnotically in her ear, she could almost believe that the touch was him.
“Oh yeah honey, up and down, slide it against yourself. That’s me. That’s my mouth on you, my tongue licking you over and over, rubbing against your clit.”
The tension coiled tighter and tighter in her as she felt the hypnotic stroking, those husky words hot in her ear, turning her on more than just touch alone could have done. It drove her higher and higher, though who was doing the driving she no longer knew, just that the urgency, the intensity and exquisite sensation had tightened to a point that she could no longer bear.
“Come on, baby, come to me,” he whispered, “come to me….” and she did, in a blazing burst that had her shuddering and crying out mindlessly. The receiver fell away as she shuddered until the sensation died away to aftershocks.
With an arm that felt boneless, Becka picked the receiver back up, laughing a little. She lay for a moment, panting, waiting for her heart rate to subside. “That was amazing. It was like you were here.”
“I wish I had been. You have no idea how hard that got me listening to you.”
“Really?” she asked, sliding down on the couch. “And are you naked?”
His soft laugh came over the phone. “Just what did you have in mind?”
Becka smiled and ran her fingers down her neck. “I thought we could try a little therapeutic massage.”
16
THE HIGH GREEN WALL of Boston’s Fenway Park spread against the purpling sky of twilight as Becka and Mace walked into the ballpark. Hot dogs scented the air. Kids waved pink and blue cotton candy. Becka watched as a peanut vendor barked out his wares, tossing bags unerringly to fans ten feet away.
“Tell me who we’re meeting again?” Becka asked as Mace led her up steep concrete stairs.
“Stan Angelo. He was on the Atlanta team when I was just starting out. He kind of took me under his wing.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“He’s up in the Red Sox organization. Does a lot of traveling to coordinate trades and stuff with the other clubs. He was the one—” Mace turned his head at the sound of a whistle.
“Hey, Duvall, over here.” A burly man in a Red Sox cap shouted and waved to them. They threaded their way between rows to get to the empty seats beside him, Becka leading the way.
“Hey, Stan, good to see you.” The two men shook as Mace and Becka dropped into their seats.
“’Bout time you got here, Duvall. What, now that you’re not playing you figure you don’t have to show up for the start?”
“Hey, I got a job, in case you forgot,” Mace said good-naturedly. “Our day game went into extra innings. We got here as quick as we could.”
Stan leaned over to Becka. “Always excuses with this guy,” he said, jerking a thumb at Mace. “He give you this routine, too?”
“Not so far, but I’ll keep an eye out for it,” Becka promised gravely.
Stan’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. “I’m Stan Angelo, since this bum hasn’t bothered to introduce us.”
Becka found her hand enveloped in a hairy-knuckled paw. “Becka Landon,” she said in amusement.
Mace looked down to where his knees were stuck up against the seat in front of him. “Couldn’t you get any better seats than this, Stan? I thought you had clout with the organization.”
“Oh, Duvall, you’re breaking my heart,” Stan shot back, with a wink for Becka. “You want to see a ball game right, you got to sit in the stands, not up in some luxury joint with a fancy buffet. You know you can’t even get a hot dog in the 600 Club until after t
he game starts?” he asked aggrievedly.
“What kind of a sick world do we live in?” Becka asked.
“My thoughts exactly. So how’s our boy doing out there in the minors, anyway?”
“We’ve moved up two spots in the standings since he came on board. You tell me.”
Stan laughed. “See, Duvall? Aren’t you glad I play such a good game of pool?”
Becka’s mouth curved into a smile as the light dawned. “You’re the one that hustled him into it.”
Stan buffed his nails on his shirt. “It was nothing,” he said modestly. “I knew he didn’t have any money I could win so I settled for a moral victory.”
“You piker,” Mace said. “You set me up and you know it.”
“And I see you hated it so much you stuck around, huh? I’m hearing good stuff about you from the organization. They like your style.” A hot dog vendor started up the steps of the aisle, barking his wares. “Hey, you guys eat?” Stan asked. “You want a dog?” Becka hesitated and he gave her a suspicious stare. “What’s the problem? You’re not one of those that pretends she doesn’t eat, are you?”
“She’s a health food nut,” Mace said. “I’ll take a couple if you’re buying, though.”
“None for the lady? Oh come on, you’re at a baseball game. Everybody eats hot dogs at a game. It’s un-American not to.”
Becka grinned and gave in. “Okay, one.”
“Good girl,” Stan said approvingly and whistled to the vendor, waving five fingers.
“So you work for the Red Sox, too, Stan?”
“Yep. I’m sort of a fancy gofer. Spend a lot of time running around the country on recruiting missions and things,” he said, pulling a twenty out of his wallet and handing it to Mace to pass down to the aisle. “I’m in town for some meetings next week. I figured I’d come in early and harass Duvall, here.”
The hot dogs and change made their way hand to hand back from the aisle to Mace and Stan. With a crack, the ball sailed off the bat of a Boston player on a trajectory headed over the Green Monster and the crowd erupted in an orgy of joy as the home team took the lead.
“So why the Sox?” Becka asked a few minutes later, trying not to think about the contents of the Fenway Frank she was eating and appalled to realize that she was enjoying every bite.
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