by Gemma Bruce
The two other suits were talking to two men. J.T. was pretty sure the stockier man in the cast was Bernie Karpinsky, the Beavers manager. His stance had all the trademarks of an in-the-umpire’s-face kind of coach.
The suit backed up a step, then got in the car.
Karpinsky turned to the other man, probably someone from the front office. The man shook his head. The two of them watched the second sedan drive away, then went back inside, passing through the crowd of players who had gathered in the doorway.
J.T. hurried after them.
“What happened?”
“Man. The INS just took Gonzales and Nunez away,” said a player she recognized from the Pine Tree. He wandered back inside, shaking his head.
“That sucks,” said a kid with so many freckles they made a mask across his face.
“Get used to it. This team is jinxed.”
The last player followed his teammates, and J.T. was left looking at a closed door. There was a big scorched spot on the wood next to it where it looked like a tailgater had fired up his grill a little too close to the building and burned more than his burgers. She shook her head. Must be part of the jinx.
She hoped there was something more interesting going on than drunk tailgaters and a couple of illegal aliens. She opened the door and saw a few stragglers going into a door at the end of the hallway that she guessed was the locker room.
There was another door on her immediate left. GILBEYTOWN BEAVERS was stenciled in black across the frosted glass window.
She opened it. There was a desk right in front of the door and several mobile partitions. There was no one at the desk, but she heard voices and followed them to a door marked GENERAL MANAGER.
She knocked, then stepped inside.
Tommy parked his Beemer next to a nifty red Mustang and got out of the car. He reached back in for the cardboard tray of coffee containers and took a moment to admire the sports car.
Nice. He didn’t think it belonged to any of the players, not unless they’d had a sudden inheritance. And he was pretty sure Skinny Martin didn’t pay his reporters that well. So it looked like they were safe for another day or two.
He walked across the parking lot to the entrance, trying to ignore the patch of burned wood beside the door. It made him sick to think of how close the building had come to burning down.
And it hadn’t been kids like Jeff Whitelaw thought. The sheriff was always too ready to blame the eastside teenagers for everything that went wrong. Well, they hadn’t done this. The Beaver games were the one thing they could afford to attend. They’d never do anything to hurt the team, or Bernie or Tommy.
He and Bernie were from different generations, but they had both grown up here. They were hood boys. It wasn’t teenagers. Someone else was responsible for this. Someone who wanted the team to go belly-up.
Balancing the coffee tray in one hand, Tommy opened the door with the other, then went into Larry’s office where Bernie and Larry were waiting for their first jolt of Joe. The door was closed, so he gave the two men a heads up and opened it.
Larry was sitting at his desk. Bernie was standing by the wall, leaning on his crutches.
“Got your morning wake-up call,” said Tommy, and shut the door with his foot.
Then he noticed their expressions. “What? Has something else happened?”
Bernie glanced past him to the corner of the room. “The INS just picked up Gonzales and Nunez.”
“Why?” Tommy put the cardboard tray down on Larry’s desk.
Neither man spoke.
“Jesus, don’t tell me you were playing illegals?”
“No,” said Larry. “They had papers. They had ID numbers. They looked official to me. “
Bernie reached for his Tums. “Of all the damn bad luck.”
“Luck, my ass,” Tommy said. “Someone informed on them, didn’t they?”
Bernie shrugged and Tommy knew he’d hit it.
“Yeah, well. What’s done is done,” Larry said.
“I guess. But on another note.” Bernie lifted his chin toward the corner of the room.
Tommy turned to see what was so damn interesting.
“Tommy. I’d like you to meet—”
She stood up and stuck out her hand. “J.T. Green. Sports Today.”
Chapter 4
Tommy stared, his breath caught on an inhale. “Jess?”
She winced. Two spots of color appeared on her cheeks.
“Jess?” It couldn’t be. The fresh young beauty from the Pine Tree was the Sports Today reporter? He was so fucked.
Her hand was still extended. She expected him to shake it? Fat chance. He glanced at Bernie, then at Larry. They were both frowning at him.
“Do you two know each other?” Bernie’s words came out half question, half accusation.
“No,” said Tommy. He grabbed J.T.’s hand. “Ms. Green.”
It was a firm hand, small, but all business. Not like the hand that had roved over his body. Caressed his—Damn it. His blood was racing south in spite of his anger.
He realized he was still holding her hand. It fit perfectly in his. He dropped it.
She smiled tentatively. He wasn’t falling for it. She no longer looked like the young, sensuous woman he’d come on to the night before, but a tigress on the scent of fresh kill.
If she got to snooping, she’d screw him over. The deal with Isotori would go sour. His buyout would be up the crick. And he’d have to sign on for another painful year.
He’d learned the hard way not to underestimate women. But this one had slipped in right under his radar. And just like that young rookie years before, he’d been taken in again. She hadn’t been attracted to him. She’d had a hidden agenda all the time.
If she hadn’t pulled away when she did, he would have fucked her and spilled his guts to her.
She was that alluring. Even now.
Why had she pulled back?
“So-o-o,” Bernie said into the lengthening silence. He reached for his coffee. “If we’d known you were coming, Tommy here woulda gotten an extra coffee.”
J.T. Green slowly turned toward him, focused on the cup he held.
“That’s okay. I already had my limit.” She turned back to Tommy.
That damn ponytail swished across her back and the sight went straight to his groin. Hell. If there was a time he needed to be thinking with his head, it was now. But he couldn’t do it with the demon pixie standing in front of him.
He reached for the last coffee. “Nice to meet you. See you around.” In her dreams. He grabbed the cup. The tray came up with it, then fell off and dropped at his feet. He would have left it there, but J.T. Green bent down and picked it up.
She paused halfway to standing, and Tommy had no doubt that she’d seen his growing reaction to her. He could strangle her, the witch. Then she stood up, poker-faced. Their eyes snagged. Held. And it meant trouble.
He snatched the tray out of her hand and tossed it into the garbage can. “Thanks.” He turned to make his escape.
“Park it,” said Bernie. “You, too, J.T., and tell Tommy here what kind of story you’re looking for.”
Like I don’t know, thought Tommy. How had Skinny sniffed him out?
Tommy eyed his uncle. Bernie merely pointed to the desktop, the only place to sit, since J.T. Green had taken the only spare chair. Tommy parked one hip on the desk and tried to look anywhere but at her.
Any other reporter would have been barraging him with questions by now. J.T. Green didn’t open her pretty mouth. She was biding her time. Did she really think he’d give her another chance to make him look like an ass? It would be a long day in hell before that happened.
She could make time with the other men. See how she fared with a bunch of hyped-up, testosterone-pumped animals. They’d have a field day with her. And she’d deserve it.
That’s what happened to women who got into cars with total strangers. But he hadn’t been a stranger, had he? She’d been waiting for a ch
ance to get him alone. And he’d walked right into it.
So why had she run away? Did she think he would run after her? Beg her not to go? Or had she planned to lure him to her room? He snorted. Thought wrong, bitch.
“What?” asked Bernie.
“Nothing.” He risked a glance at J.T. Green.
She was watching him. Calculating. He could practically see the wheels turning in that cunning little brain of hers. He didn’t know how she had the balls to look so innocent.
“So-o-o,” he began. “What kind of story are you looking for?” J.T. jumped, cleared her throat. “A human-interest story.” She switched her focus to Bernie.
Tommy smiled slightly. She was having a hard time facing him.
“You know, get to know the guys, what makes them tick, what they care about, how the team’s doing.” She grimaced.
Oh, right. Like she didn’t know how the team was doing. That article would take one sentence. Lousy. She was after bigger game.
“Not just wins–losses and league standings,” she said quickly. “Something personal that readers can relate to.”
Bernie nodded.
Couldn’t he see it was all an act? Had Skinny sent her in the hopes that she’d charm her way into their confidence? It would be just like Skinny to pull something like that.
And the Galaxies thought there would be less chance of a leak if Tommy made himself scarce. He’d thought so, too. And it couldn’t have come at a better time. Bernie needed his help and Tommy had business to conduct here. He was anxious to get the ball rolling so he’d have something to keep him busy once Isotori was signed.
He rolled the tension away from his shoulder. He didn’t have time to evade questions. And he didn’t think the team could withstand her conniving, innocent routine. He’d have to warn them to keep their mouths shut about the accidents. And not to talk about him at all.
She was still looking at him and Tommy realized she was waiting for a response.
What had she been talking about? Right. Human-interest story. “Sounds fascinating,” he said dryly. “Bernie can show you around.”
Bernie choked on his coffee. J.T. Green looked just as eager as if Tommy had said he’d personally escort her. She was good, he had to hand her that. It just made him hate her more.
Tommy glanced at his watch. “Batting practice starts in a few minutes. Then you can watch the afternoon drill sessions. That should give you some material.” And if that didn’t bore her right onto the highway heading south, she had more fortitude than most.
“Sounds good.”
Bernie looked like he could wring Tommy’s neck.
“It’s a pretty slow time right now,” Bernie said without enthusiasm.
“It’s two weeks before the Beavers opening game.”
“Yeah, well.” He looked at Tommy for support. Got none. “Actually, Larry and I have a little business to conduct. This INS thing. Got to get it settled before our first game. Poor suckers are probably scared shit—spitless. Tommy can show you around until I get there.”
Back in his court. Damn. He needed a break here. On second thought, that long walk down the hall to the field would be a perfect opportunity to let the little witch have a piece of his mind.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to the team.”
He opened the door and she stepped past him without a word or a look.
Bernie heaved himself forward. “Tommy, just a minute.” J.T. turned. Antennae out.
Tommy closed the door in her face. “Yeah?”
Bernie jerked his head toward the door and said in a raspy whisper. “I called Skinny Martin. Just wanted to see if he’d gotten wind that you were here. And no, I didn’t tell him. But I did get the scoop on this reporter he sent.
“She’s not onto you. She’s Abe Green’s kid. Skinny gave her a job as a favor to the Coach. She’s green.” Bernie snorted. “You know what I mean. Skinny can’t use her, but he didn’t want to piss off her old man, so he shipped her off to give her something to do. It’s just a coincidence that he chose the Beavers.”
“Shit.” Tommy rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
Larry smacked the desktop. “I don’t care if she’s the pope’s daughter. Whatever she’s looking for, I don’t want her to find it here. Give her anything she wants as long as it doesn’t have anything to do with the team. Make her happy and get rid of her.”
Jesus, thought Tommy, he’d almost seduced Abe Green’s daughter. There was no way he was giving her anything but the brush-off.
He gritted his teeth and opened the door.
She was gone. He looked around, caught movement at the end of the corridor. Heard her voice before he saw her. Light. Enthusiastic. Humorous. “Close your eyes, boys, I’m coming in.”
Jesus, she was going into the locker room. Tommy lurched forward, took the hall running, and reached the door to the locker room just in time to see twenty-two half-naked men dive for cover.
He slapped his hand over her eyes, grabbed her around the waist, and half-lifted, half-dragged her to Bernie’s office. He kicked the door shut and turned her to face him.
“Let go.” She wriggled against him and he hardened immediately. Which was idiotic. He was mad at her. He wanted her out of his life. Hell, he just wanted her.
She was warm, small, almost fragile boned. She fit right into the curve of his body. And her hair smelled like strawberries. He was in serious shit.
Tommy released her, stepped back, hoping that she wouldn’t notice the way his slacks were tenting.
J.T. had a big grin on her face. “They fall for it every time.”
“Not funny.”
“Sure it is.”
Tommy closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “Do you have any idea of what you’re setting yourself up for? These guys aren’t used to women in the locker room. They might get the wrong idea.”
Actually, Tommy couldn’t imagine anyone having the balls to come onto Abe Green’s daughter. But there were some really dumb assholes playing ball. He stepped toward her, crowding her space, hoping to intimidate the grin off her face.
She just smiled up at him and his pulse kicked up to warp speed.
God, give him strength. He might be one of those dumb assholes.
“I’ve been doing it for years. It helps break the ice. You wait and see. Next time I come into the locker room, there won’t be any of those third-grade ball-and-bat jokes women reporters always get.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“Sure there will.” She cocked her head, gave him a thoughtful look. “Who would’ve guessed that the great Tommy B. has no sense of humor.”
“I do have a sense of humor.”
“Where?” She opened her hands and shrugged. Her shoulders pulled the straps of her shirt up. The cotton shifted across her perky little breasts. His fingers tingled. Her eyelashes fluttered and he imagined them spreading butterfly kisses over his bare skin.
Jesus. What was he going to do with her? He couldn’t “make her happy” in the way Larry had meant. Even if some very persuasive parts of him were begging for it. Even though he’d almost done just that in the front seat of his Beemer. It had been a close call.
Not even Tommy B. would dare to provoke the wrath of Mean Abe Green by boinking his daughter. The guy was a legend. He’d made and killed careers. And he’d kill anybody who took advantage of his little girl.
Besides, he was pissed at her. Though at the moment it was hard to remember why.
She whipped out a pen and a notebook.
“So, Tommy, you don’t mind if I call you Tommy. What brings you to Gilbeytown?”
Then he remembered why he was pissed. “You recognized me.”
“I didn’t. At least not at first.”
“Right.”
The two spots of pink on her cheeks spread to her whole face. She looked adorable. She’s a reporter.
He stepped past her and opened the door. The locker room had cleared. That was the quickest he’d
seen this team move in the two days he’d been back. What were the chances of it carrying over to the afternoon practice session?
“It’s safe now. Come on.”
J.T. followed him meekly across the empty locker room. He didn’t know how hard it had been for her to pull that old “close your eyes” routine. But she knew she had to get back on the horse if she were going to make it. And now she had an angry, ace pitcher to mollify.
He strode ahead of her like a man in a hurry.
She jogged to catch up. “Come on, Tommy. Cut me a break. When I recognized you, I stopped, uh, doing what we were doing.” Okay, it had been before then, but he didn’t need to know that. “I wouldn’t do something like that under false pretenses.”
Tommy stopped abruptly. Turned on her. “You used me.”
She opened her mouth. Barked out an incredulous laugh. “Me? Use you? Think again, buddy. If there was any using going on, it was you. I was peacefully having a beer, when this big oaf sits down beside me and starts putting the make on me.”
“And who was so eager to hop into that big oaf’s car?” Tommy’s face was so tight, J.T. thought it might shatter. He was so overreacting.
“Look. Why don’t we start again. Pretend like none of it happened. It was a mistake. Just one of those things.” One of those things, she, for one, would never forget. She’d kissed Tommy B. And he was everything she’d never fantasized about him.
Well, maybe just a little, a long time ago, like maybe when she was in middle school. She’d only felt respect for his playing since then. Mostly.
The Coach would have a coronary if this got out. “Nobody has to know.”
“I know. And I’m pissed.”
She swallowed. She could see her big scoop falling away beneath her feet. She’d blown it without even trying. This was a disaster.
She touched his arm. He yanked away.
“Don’t be such a big baby. And don’t try to make this my fault.”
“It is your fault.” He started walking again.
This time she stayed right by his side. “I don’t know what you’re so bent about. You hit on me. I found you…attractive. Shit happens. I didn’t know it was you—honest—not at first. And when I did realize…”