She heard the pff, pff of his footsteps coming down the stairs and braced herself. If his mood sucked, she might have to deck him. She couldn’t take it another second. She was a damn good doctor and an even better friend. It seemed sometimes Xavier didn’t want either.
“Doc.” He picked up his mail, thumbing through each letter. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I got your mail.”
With a quick glance down, he nodded. “Thanks for that.” He opened the cabinet beneath the sink and tossed the stack. “Nothing important.”
“There was a … one particular caught my … did you look through all of them?”
His brows pinched. He fished them back out, going through them one by one. “Central High School Reunion Committee.” He pitched it.
“Hey.” She raced over to rescue the letter. “That’s probably an invitation to a reunion.”
“So.” He lifted his heavy shoulders.
She plucked the letter from the trash and took the liberty of opening it. She read over the words, confirmed her first thought. “Twenty years. I didn’t realize how old you were.”
His head shot up, his hazels sparking in defense. “I’m not old.”
She smiled and held up the letter. “It’s for your twenty year reunion.” She read further. “It’s in a month. In Boston.”
“I know.” He headed out of the room and she followed him, letter in hand.
“This says they’ve been trying to get a hold of you for months.”
“I know.” He slumped down in his chair.
“Well, aren’t you going to go?” The letter crinkled between her hand and her hip.
“Nope.” He flipped on the television.
She stomped over to the television and turned it off. Hands on hips again, she rounded on him, making sure to stay in front of the TV.
“Hey! I was watching that.”
“Hey!” She bent slightly at the waist, leaning toward him. “I was talking to you.”
He wasn’t wearing his brace, and she couldn’t help but notice the muscles of his forearms flexing as he folded his arms. He closed his eyes, frowned, pursed his lips, blew out a breath, then opened his eyes again.
“Okay, Doc, talk.”
She waved the letter. “You really should go to the reunion, X.”
“Huh uh.” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“But why?”
He huffed. His hands rounded, his knuckles turned white. She expected him to explode on her. He didn’t. But by the look on his face, he sure as hell wanted to. His jaw jumped. Annoyance raged in his eyes. “I have no desire to see those pricks.”
***
Xavier tamped down his irritation. He didn’t want to talk about the assholes from high school. They’d made his life a living hell all those years ago, and he’d rather spend the rest of his life in the damned brace than spend one second in their company.
The cute little smirk deepened her dimple for a flash. “Come on, you’re Matthias Xavier. Major League Baseball Star.”
He laughed without humor. “I’m no star, Doc.”
She fluttered her eyelashes, clasping her hands together in a sappy my hero pose. “I think you are.”
His bark of laughter surprised them both. She joined him, her higher feminine laughs the perfect harmony to his deeper ones.
She approached him, handing him the letter. “You should go. It’ll be fun.”
“Why don’t you go?” He dropped the letter to the floor.
She placed her hands on each side of his chair and leaned forward. Her scrubs fell open just a bit, giving him a nice view of her chest … covered by a plain, white, leave-everything-to-the-imagination tank top. She leaned in until her nose nearly touched his. “Will you be my date?”
He snapped the chair closed and stood up to tower over her. “And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll go and say I’m you.”
Slowly, deliberately, he looked her over. From the shiny blond of her hair, the sexless appeal of her blue scrubs, down to her tennis shoes. He sought her eyes again. “You don’t look anything like me.”
She lifted one shoulder. “So you had a sex change.”
He laughed. Humor lightened him, made him feel light as a feather. Before he realized what he was doing, he grabbed hold of her, hugging her to his body and spinning her around. She gasped.
He was acting like a child.
That sobered him. He set her back on her feet, and held her out at arm’s length. “I’m sorry.”
She continued to laugh. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She poked him in the abdomen. “Unless you’re going to make me go to your reunion alone.”
He grinned. “Fine. I’ll go with you to the reunion … if you let me make all the reservations.”
An enormous grin broke out on her beautiful face, her blue eyes twinkling. She jammed her hand out between them. “It’s a deal.”
He couldn’t help himself. As his hand slipped around hers, he tugged. The motion caught her off balance and she toppled into his arms. He held her tight, resting his chin on her head. He could get used to having her close, especially when her arms wrapped around his waist and she laid a cheek against his chest.
Of all the women he’d had in his life—Yeah, he had too damned many, and not one of them meant anything more than a quick lay—she was the only one he’d ever allow anywhere near that reunion. Frankie had become very special to him. Too special. And yet, he couldn’t talk himself into pushing her away. He smoothed her hair back then pressed his lips to her temple.
“Thanks, Frankie.” He tightened his hold on her, feeling all her softness melt against him.
She sighed, gave him a quick squeeze before pulling away. Her gaze met his and she smiled. “It’s my pleasure.”
He hoped she still felt that way after meeting his friends. He’d had no contact with them since graduation, which was just fine with him. Well, with the exception of Bradley emailing him for tickets to the World Series the year they took it all. He hadn’t returned the email. And didn’t care if he’d offended the former quarterback.
He should have been mortified by the prospect of submitting Frankie to his past. Should have. Yet knowing she would be there to support him as he faced it head on gave him the courage to do so.
He plowed his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Maybe he’d had a brain transplant during his shoulder surgery.
Frankie cleared her throat and twisted the hem of her scrubs between her fingers. “I was thinking we’d go down to the stadium and let you hang out in the whirlpool. Whatcha think?”
He raised a brow. “You gonna join me?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She rolled her eyes. “Get your stuff together and we’ll head out in ten minutes.”
As he jogged up the stairs, she yelled, “Don’t forget your suit!”
He chuckled. He’d take his suit alright, but only because he didn’t need the entire team checking out his junk in the whirlpool.
***
All it took was a single phone call to his travel agent to make the plans for their trip. They would stay at the hotel where the event would take place. He’d landed a suite with two rooms. The plane tickets and itineraries had showed up in the mailbox today. He couldn’t wait for Frankie to arrive so he could give her all the paperwork.
The brain swap theory kept gaining more and more credibility.
He glanced at the clock and wondered where she was. It’d sure be nice when he could drive again. His car having a manual transmission had put a serious crimp in his self-sufficiency. He guessed he could have rented something. Hell, he could have just bought something else. But truth be told, he kinda liked having an excuse for Frankie to hang around. He knew it wouldn’t be forever, and he knew he played with fire.
Every woman in his life had left him, and when Frankie did…
He shook his head. He wou
ldn’t think of their inevitable separation. ‘Cause she didn’t matter to him other than the doctor charged with helping him recover.
A soft knock on the front door announced her arrival just before her voice called, “Xavier. I’m here.”
“I’m in the kitchen.” He gathered the paperwork, separated her tickets and information from his.
Once again she wore those damn scrubs. Did she not know how unflattering they were? He inwardly shrugged. Yes, she probably did.
He stood and handed her the folder he’d prepared. She accepted it, then her gaze shot up to his.
“What’s this?”
He didn’t answer, just waited for her to open the folder and find out for herself. She thumbed through the pages, smiled. “Awesome. I think you’re going to be really happy you’re going to this. You only get a twenty-year high school reunion once in your life.”
He grunted and rolled his eyes. He had to admit to being a little bit excited about going to the reunion. But it wasn’t for the reasons Frankie so obviously thought. He couldn’t care less about the chumps he’d crossed the stage with all those years ago. He was, however, stoked to spend some time with Frankie. Time away from the stadium, away from real life, away from … Christian.
His molars ground together and he felt his blood pressure spike. He hated the guy. Which said something. Xavier’d been top dog in the sports world for so long, he didn’t let other guys get to him, but he’d be damned if that little shit didn’t rub him the wrong way.
“Um … X, you okay?”
He blinked, shook his head then said to the floor, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
She dipped her head into his line of sight and smiled. “Then why do you look like you want to murder someone?” Her soft, warm hands curled around his. “You need to relax and I think I’ve got just the way to accomplish that.”
“I don’t need another massage.” Even as he said the words his thoughts drifted back to having her hands rubbing on his naked skin and he had another problem. Lust joined the violence and he thought he might spontaneously combust. Kaboom!
He stalked to the sink, turned on the faucet and stuck his fists into the ice cold spray. He wondered if she’d notice if he stuck his head underneath the water. Hell, would it shock the hell out of her if he doused himself with the sprayer?
And then she touched him. Her fingertips slipped over his shoulder. He jumped and retreated around the island, plowing his wet fingers through his hair.
“Xavier.”
He swallowed and met her concerned eyes. She took a step toward him. He circled further around the island, unwilling to give her a gander at how much she’d affected him. His hands shot up.
“I’m good, Doc. Real, real good. I promise.” Damn, he was a fantastic liar. “You said you had something planned?”
Her stare intensified, moving ever so slowly over his face, dropping to caress his bare chest. Oh shit. She was killing him!
When her gaze clashed with his, he sucked in a breath, holding it deep within his lungs because it might be the last one he’d ever take. She stared at him, not so much as blinking.
She leaped across the island, throwing her arms around his neck. He dragged her against him. Her tiny body melting against his. He cupped her bottom as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her pelvis cradled his groin perfectly and he groaned at the feel of all her softness. He backed her into the wall and grabbed for the hem of her scrubs, yanking the hideous garment over her head and throwing it across the room.
She cleared her throat.
He blinked.
She smiled.
He groaned … and not in a good way.
She leaned toward him from the other side of the counter. “Where’d you go just now?”
He shook his head, tried to extinguish the fire in his blood. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice sounded tight, low. Seriously. What the hell? “So, um … you had plans?”
“Why don’t we go down to the stadium? I think it’s time you start using some weights. Totally limited. I’ll be there the whole time to make sure you don’t overdo it. Whatcha think?”
“I think that sounds great.” His crotch had other ideas. “Can you give me a few minutes to … get my shit together?”
She raised a brow and her dimple appeared. “Sure thing. I’ll wait in the car.”
***
Feeling the raised cool metal of the weight against his palm warmed his heart. It’d been too long since he’d lifted anything more than a loaf of bread. He was going soft. As he watched Frankie where she stood talking to one of the other guys, he realized his muscles weren’t the only part of him going all pathetic and weak.
His grip tightened on the bar and he curled his arm, forcing his bicep to tense with the motion. Damn. It felt good to strain his muscles. Well, not strain exactly. The amount on weight on the bar didn’t come close to what he’d lifted in the past. But Frankie, damn her, didn’t want him to push it. She’d even stood guard over the weights to make sure he didn’t add too much.
She didn’t seem too concerned with him now, though. Given the amount of attention she devoted to Santiago, the little position-stealing prick. She probably wouldn’t notice if he tried to lift a freakin’ elephant.
Xavier ground his teeth together and lifted. One. Two. Three … Seven. Eight. He felt his nostrils flare with his breaths.
When she threw her head back and laughed out loud to something Mr. Left Field said, he realized his strain had nothing to do with the weight he bore.
What the hell?
He may not be the smartest guy on the planet, but he wasn’t stupid, and he had a pretty damned good idea what his problem was.
What do you know, Denial just happened to be a beautiful place with sandy beaches and lots of sunshine, and Xavier had pitched a sonofabitchin’ tent.
Still giggling and sporting her adorable dimple, Frankie reached out and brushed a hand over the tattoos on Ricky’s forearm. He grinned and flashed a panty-dampening smile. Little shit!
Xavier switched hands and began the curl-and-relax motion with his right arm. His shoulder protested and he cursed. Carefully he removed some of the weight and tried again. No big. He could do this. It frustrated the hell out of him, but he’d have to build up his strength. Wasn’t that just a bitch?
Speaking of which, Ricky laughed. Xavier flexed his bicep and Frankie didn’t notice. She shook her head, clearly amused by his replacement if her smile told him anything.
He pushed through the exercises, making sure he didn’t push things too far. The last thing he wanted was to damage the injury. He’d played the part of invalid for far too long. But when Frankie looked over her shoulder to check on him, he wondered if keeping her at his beck and call would be such a bad thing.
Ricky said something. Frankie nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Xavier shook his head and stood. He glared daggers through the back of his replacement. The animosity he felt toward the guy had nothing to do with the flirting. None.
Frankie smiled as she met him at the weights. “You looked like you were doing okay.”
“Yeah, you, too,” he muttered sourly under his breath.
Her only response was a sigh. Damn, he’d been an ass again.
But before he could apologize, she took his arm, squeezing up his right forearm, over his bicep, finally massaging his shoulder. “Any pain?”
“Nope.”
She squeezed hard. His eyes flew to hers just in time to see them narrow. “Don’t lie to me, X.”
Using one pointer finger, he crossed his heart. “I promise. No pain.”
She nodded. “Sore?”
He gave her a quick jog of the head. He had just promised to be honest with her. “Nothing I can’t deal with.”
She shook her head, clucked her tongue. “That’s not saying much. I know how stubborn you are.”
“I’m okay, Doc.” He walked around her, heading in the direction of the leg press machine.
He heard her stutter step then she fell in behind him. “Don’t tell me you’re done.”
A grin spread to his lips. He bit into the bottom one to keep from letting her see his amusement. He turned on his heel and caught her as she plowed into him. She gasped and looked up into his eyes. She panted. He gripped her hips tight, his fingers digging into the soft cotton fabric of her scrubs.
He dipped his head to speak right in her ear. “I’m far from done.” The with you he kept to himself.
“Oh.” She breathed, her chest rose and fell in quick succession. Her eyes went dreamy. He raised one hand to cradle her face, his thumb tracing her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. He blinked to make sure this wasn’t another insane fantasy. As his eyes opened, so did hers. She smiled, lazy and slow. She stretched up on her tiptoes, bringing her breasts flush against his chest, his lips within reach of his. Her arms slipped around his neck. Her lids lowered, her lips parted.
“Am I interrupting?”
Frankie bolted out of his arms, jumping back way out of his reach. She whirled around and stumbled, but before Xavier could assist with the strong and steady, she smoothed her hands over the front of her scrubs and stepped toward Christian.
The guy quirked a brow and grinned at her, smirked at X. “Saved by the Bell, huh?” He blew on his nails before rubbing them on his shirt over his pectoral.
Frankie burst out in nervous laughter, shaking her head like she’d never heard anything funnier in her entire life. Xavier, however, thought the guy was a complete moron and his joke absurd.
With a hand pressed to her throat Frankie explained, “Bell is his last name.”
“Oh.” Still not funny.
Out of Left Field Page 9