by Amy Field
Anna occupied herself with Jacob but couldn’t help sneak peeks at the kitchen until they both arrived. There was no sign of tension on their faces so Anna was sure she was mistaken. They proceeded to dinner where Paul charmed her mother with funny stories and Anna found herself slipping into the security of his words.
During dessert, Paul got a call and he left them.
Anna turned to her mother.
“What did you ask him?”
Her mother didn’t speak at first and reached for her wine glass. She took a sip.
“What a mother had to ask.”
“Which is?” Anna pressed.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” her mother said. “Anna, I think you know this but he loves you. A lot from what he told me.”
“I know,” Anna said quietly.
“Do you love him?”
Anna didn’t answer and her mother sighed.
“I like him and he seems like a responsible person. I also know that he isn’t going to give up so you should make your decision. I know as a mother you want to protect your child but don’t project your dissatisfaction onto your child.”
Anna listened and was going to say something when Paul came back. They chatted but Anna was too preoccupied with her thoughts. Her mother was right, she had to make her decision.
Dinner ended and they all went back to the living room where Anna fed Jacob. Her mother and Paul were getting on nicely and An na smiled. They were already behaving like old friends.
It grew late and Anna stood up.
“I should go,” she said.
“I’ll drop you off.” Paul was already on his feet.
Her mother had a smile on her face as she bid them goodbye. On the way to her house, they didn’t talk and Anna felt an awkwardness in the air. Paul was thinking about something as well. When they got to her apartment, he made to leave but she stopped him.
“Why don’t you come in? For coffee?” Anna suggested.
Paul nodded slowly and she opened her door, heading first to her bedroom to put Jacob in his crib. When she came back, he was sitting on the couch. She made the coffee and set down the mug in front of him. Paul took a sip and waited for her to speak.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what did my mother say to you?” Anna asked.
Paul gave her a wry smile. “She asked me what my intentions were.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth,” Paul said and added, “She told me that a mother’s heart was hardened but she thought that I had a chance.”
Anna had to laugh at that and Paul took her hands.
“Anna, you know how I feel but talking to Jenny, it made me realize that I shouldn’t pressurize you. I am asking for the last time, please marry me.” Paul’s eyes bore into hers and Anna found it hard to breathe.
This was the decision she had to take. She couldn’t push it and she closed her eyes for a second, asking her heart the question. The answer was quick.
“Yes,” Anna said tears filling her eyes.
Paul smiled and hugged her tightly. Anna felt the peace radiate through her, she was sure she had made the right decision. She had never made any allusions about her feelings for Paul and though he hadn’t been in the right those months ago, it wasn’t something that should be held against him. He had begged for forgiveness and she knew he would try to make up for it, however he could.
“Anna, I love and I’ll love you forever and ever. I’ll make up for everything I did,” Paul promised.
Anna nodded and he leaned in, kissing her with all the passion he could muster. Anna wrapped her hands around his shoulder, feeling the love that she had all but hidden inside of her for all those months. Yes, this was it.
Their moment was ruined by a piercing cry and they both parted, bursting out laughing.
“I’ll go to him,” Paul said. “I should get used to it.”
Anna linked her hands with his, “We should both get used to it.”
They smiled at each and then walked to the bedroom, where their baby was waiting for them. This was going to be the start of their life together.
THE END
Book III
The Basketball Baby
A Sports Secret Baby Romance
First Play
The enthusiastic cheers were deafening and reverberated in every corner of the brightly lit hall.
A blonde, ponytailed girl wearing a stylish suede jacket stood out in the grey mass of male journalists inside the media area. Tammy Forrester could barely hear her own thoughts over the booming cries and cheers of the crowd. She wanted to join them but she had to keep up appearances. With her hands clenched on her lap, her eyes followed the players’ every move, watching in anticipation as the ball moved from player to player. For a few seconds, a wall of tall bodies blocked her view, and she was tempted to jump up and peek over their heads. The sound of the roaring crowd was deafening, but it didn’t hide the fact that the ball just slammed against the backboard before is shot into the air. She was about to leap to her feet when one by one the row of fans flopped down in their seats. “Finally,” she muttered under her breath.
But instead the red digits on the electronic clock flashed 00:00. It was the end of the game and the score was, needless to say, disappointing. She felt this way every time the game ended differently to what she had hoped. This time however, she couldn’t believe that the trump team lost by two points.
“You got everything right?” Tammy asked Robert, her cameraman.
He rolled his gum from one cheek to the next as he adjusted his camera. “I got the game but we need an interview.”
Tammy narrowed her gaze in on the group of players sauntering off towards the locker room and raised a brow. She was more than willing to bet her paycheck on getting this interview. Despite the outcome of the game, her spirit was somehow lifted, and she was ready for any challenge.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get that interview,” she said, determinedly.
Robert’s brows shot up and he looked at her with a deadpan expression of sheer disbelief and she knew exactly what he was thinking.
She had always thought him to be handsome, but his looks were marred because he hardly ever smiled. He always whore the same style clothes, faded t-shirts that he got in last year’s Christmas stockings and faded stone-washed jeans. She had asked him about it once, and all he had said was that it was her job to look pretty, not his. His face was on the rounder side with chubby cheeks and when he smiled, occasionally, he looked like a friendly garden gnome.
“So you’re just going to waltz in there and insist on an interview?” he asked.
“That’s the plan,” she smirked.
“You’re kidding right?”
She rolled her eyes, although they made a good team, he had always been on the irritable side with her. He had a habit of countering every time she suggested something or answers her questions with an air of indifference. Other times he managed a 360 and attempted to flirt with her. She had entertained the thought of him being chauvinistic. But after a while, she realized he had a cantankerous personality, but over and above he was lazy. To him it was about doing the shoot and getting paid more than anything.
It had become clear, after only four months at Channel 6 that he had bounced from anchor to anchor until he had ended up with her. He was the talk of the town. She didn’t exactly feel special after she read up on it all, but she will hold off judgement. Sometimes a person just needed the right break.
She geared up, smoothed out her suit and dragged her fingers through her long dark hair. And then she took out a compact mirror and powdered her nose in an attempt to look a bit more presentable than an exasperated fan girl. She was lucky though, she never had much need for makeup thanks to her flawless skin, but a little lip color hurt no one. Her cheekbones were set high, and gave her an aristocratic look with slanted almond-shaped eyes, the color of garnet. She pouted her lips and snapped the compact closed. This was as good as it would get, s
he thought to herself and shoved it back into her purse.
With no further delay, she hurried down the stairs next to the stands and headed for the locker room. For a brief moment, her brave heart from earlier, threatened to fail her as it frantically drummed against her ribcage. She hadn’t quite thought up an excuse of what she would say once she got into the locker room. Or how she would manage to get in there in the first place, but she had to think on her feet. How would she manage to get inside?
There was always a security guard there, what if she got him distracted? And a plan formed in her mind.
“Distract him,” she said, turning to Robert.
“I am sorry?” he said.
“Distract the guard so I can slip inside.”
“Are you out of your mind? We need the footage!”
“Give me the camera, I’ll go talk to him.”
“You are serious about this?” Robert shook his head in disbelief.
“Fine, don’t mess this up.”
Tammy grinned and took the video camera from him. It was heavy, but she was strong enough to handle. This was unprecedented but somehow doing it felt exhilarating. They were already in sight of the locker room and she could see the security guard in front. She moved out of the way and watched Robert make his way to the guard. She waited breathless for a few moments until she saw the guard leave with Robert.
Success!
The moment she snuck into the locker rooms, the salty putrid smell of sweat choked her and she clamped her hand over her nose and mouth. She didn’t think it would smell this bad, but she wasn’t here to judge them on their body odor. She glanced around at the condition of their locker rooms. It was a typical man cave, untidy, with used towels hanging all over the place and clothes scattered on the benches. But she wasn’t here to do a story on their locker rooms or what they got up to behind the scenes. She was just here to get a scoop on the game, and hopefully, a few personal comments about the game from some of the players.
She raised the handheld camera and scanned the room through the lens. Her first shot gave her a nice close-up of a few prominent stars, but thankfully they hardly paid her attention. They were obviously too tired and preoccupied to even notice her. She filmed them quietly for a few brief moments and then turned off the camera and hooked the strap over her shoulder. This would be enough for the show and she didn’t want to exploit them too much. Instead, she took out her recorder and geared herself up to interview a few players.
Her attention zeroed in on Pat Johnson, the NBA heartbreaker and playboy. She fumbled with the recorder and raised it up. Standing this close to a basketball player she was nothing, but a glorified dwarf, but she held her own.
“Mr Johnson, how do you feel after such a close win?”
Pat Johnson glanced down at her with confusion etched on his face. He knew for a fact that reporters never got into the locker rooms,
“I have special permission to be here,” she reassured him. “So can you give us any comment on the close win?”
He raised a brow and flicked the towel over his shoulder, “I guess it’s a disappointment, but it’s just a speed hump. We’ll recover.”
“So you don’t think the addition of Marcus Delacroy as part of the Chicago Wings, have anything to do with them winning this game?”
He half-chuckled. “It’s not one man who wins a game, it’s a team. We played to the best of our abilities, but they were stronger.”
She tried to get another question in, but he turned around and walked to the showers.
An odd few of the players answered some of the questions but most of them didn’t even give her a second glance. And she was desperate for more substantial comments for the 10 ‘o'clock news. But all she was left with were the stragglers who didn’t want to give her the time of the day.
She refused to give up. This was her first real shot at becoming an accomplished journalist and if she would impress her bosses, she could not fail to deliver. Channel Six may be nothing but a stepping stone in her rise to fame, but it was the most important one. She spun around, determined to stalk into the showers when she collided with a solid wall of flesh, followed by a loud OOMPH!
Stumbling she tried to regain her balance when two strong hands gripped her upper arms and steadied her. She slowly raised her head and from the water clad chest with droplets that caressed her savior’s skin she sucked in a breath. This was all brawny male and dripping testosterone standing in front of her.
She dug deep for composure, stepped back and looked up at him, only to stare right up at Wade Conley. He was definitely the last person she expected to run into and the amused look in his eyes, and sideways smirk, spoke volumes. Everything about him was tainted. His bad boy reputation exceeded him. Every tabloid drank up his antics about his bad drinking habits and his unsated desire for supermodels. He was the favorite for gossipmongers.
She was momentarily speechless. Now she could see why so many women fanned over him. Being this up close and personal, he was flawless. She didn’t want to admit it to herself but his good looks had a hand in it. He easily towered over her 5 foot 4 frame and his broad shoulders weren’t helping in easing her tension. His eyes were an intense green with flecks of nutmeg and his face was handsome in a rough sort of way. It was as if he was sculpted by Michelangelo himself. His out-of-bed hair was blonde with lighter streaks. It was hard describing his raw appeal but she could feel it radiating off of him. If she didn’t know better, he could quite easily charm her socks off.
Her common sense kicked her brain into gear and she cleared her throat nervously.
His lips flat lined the moment he looked down at her hand and she clutched the recorder in her fist.
“How did you get into the locker rooms?” he muttered with furrowed eyebrows.
She cursed inwardly. “Your team manager gave me a pass,” she lied and raised the recorder. “Given the close win today, how do you feel about the loss with only two points?”
He scratched his cheek and then dragged his fingers through his hair.
“We’ll make a comeback, we had a bad second half with a few handling mistakes, but nothing that will keep us from winning the championship.”
Tammy worried her bottom lip, these were all lame questions. Everyone had seen the outcome of the game why bother harping on that.
“On a personal note, I heard through the grapevine you were offered a spot at Chicago Eagles. Is this just gossip, or are you considering a real offer?”
Wade cocked a brow and rolled his shoulders. “Whatever you heard sweetheart, is news to me.”
“That isn’t the answer I am looking for,” Tammy said wittily.
“That’s the answer you will get from me so take it or leave it.”
Her brows shot up. “That’s very...”
“Rude? Well Darling, that’s how I roll, so unless you are interested in something else...”
At that, he stepped forward, pushing her back up against one of the lockers. She glances around for any sign of life, but they were alone and that unnerved her. When he reached to pull his shirt off over his head, she felt a twitch of something in her stomach.
“We could always take this interview to private quarters,” he said.
Tammy was shocked to see how much that appealed to her but she had her pride and she kept on glaring at him. The little flutter in her stomach were no butterflies, oh hell no, this was her jerk alarm vibrating at 6.9 on her inner Richter scale. With her defences back in place, she planted her hand against his bare chest and casually pushed him away from her. He had some nerve to think he could play the prince charming card on her.
“You aren’t the first guy to come onto me in a locker room,” she said icily. “And you sure will not be the last, so I suggest you let me do my job.”
“I am the best looking one,” he said cockily.
She was tempted to smile, but her irritation with herself rather than him prevented her. She would not stand there and let him make a fool of her.
“You could be Harrison Ford for all care. What I want is an interview, here and now.”
He huffed and looked at her, “I don’t do interviews, but entertaining women on the other hand…”
She snapped and glared at him. “Do you do this to every reporter who asks for an interview? Corner her in the locker room?”
“Pretty much,” he shrugged.
“You should change that attitude or it will earn you a painful kick in your nether region.”
Even as the words left her mouth, a sudden wave of nausea hit her and she felt the edges of the room begin to ripple as her head spun. Her skin grew cold and clammy despite the hot air and steam from the showers. With all the strength she could muster, she shoved past him and ran out of the locker room with her hand clasped over her mouth.
So much for first impressions, she thought just as she hunched over the toilet.
Second Play
Tammy looked at herself in the mirror, taking in the pallor of her skin. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. She reached for a paper towel and dabbed across her forehead. Leaning weakly over the sink and trying to stop the room from spinning, she took a few deep slow breaths. It must have been the corn-dog, she thought and vowed, to never again, have the greasy crap they feed people at a Basketball match.
As soon as she felt more stable, she turned the tap on, cupped her hands and splashed the water on her face. She was as white as a sheet, but at least she wasn’t feeling like death anymore. She took out her essential makeup out of her purse and applied it. The last thing she wanted was for Robert to question her current state of health and ability to keep it together for a simple interview.
By the time she excited the rest room, the whole stadium was empty, complete pin drop silence. It was even creepier than she had imagined. She headed across the deserted parking lot towards the news van where Robert stood impatiently tapping on his wristwatch.
“Where were you?” he demanded.
“I told you I would get an interview.”