The Man For Me

by Gemma Bruce

  She was about to comment on his gentlemanly behavior when the pungent aroma of smoke and cooking meat took her breath away. Her stomach rumbled. “This smells wonderful.”

  Tommy grunted and led her into a big rectangular room, finished in pine siding and filled with Formica tables, most of which were occupied. A jukebox played a Patsy Cline song and the air was warm with cooking and bodies.

  Several people called out to Tommy as they took their place in line at the counter that ran along one side of the room. Behind the counter, chalkboards were covered with handwritten menus. Several lines were smudged out. And it was only seven thirty.

  Sal’s had attitude and J.T thought it would make a great subject, if she could figure out a way to incorporate it into her article about the Beavers.

  “What would you like?” Tommy asked.

  “Oh. You’re the expert. I bow to your superior knowledge.”

  Tommy gave their order. Ribs, coleslaw, french fries, and beer.

  The waitress, a young girl with frizzy brown hair, gazed adoringly at him. “That’ll be twelve eighty-seven,” she said dreamily. Tommy handed her a ten and a five. “Keep the change.” He smiled the Tommy B. smile at her and J.T. was afraid the girl would melt right to the floor.

  While they waited for their order, a couple who was also waiting smiled over at them. The man reached across J.T. and pumped Tommy’s hand. He had a ruddy complexion and the hand that he offered Tommy was big and rough. He was wearing a plaid shirt and a gimme hat that advertised Preston’s Rentals.

  “Tommy, heard you were in town.” He nodded at J.T., curiosity plain on his face. “How’s Bernie’s leg? Can’t believe he fell off a damn ladder.”

  “Hi, Ed. Good to see you. He’s getting around. Cussing up a blue streak. He doesn’t like being slowed down, I can tell you.”

  J.T. was impressed. Tommy had moved back into being one of the locals. Even his accent had changed. He seemed completely at home. Well, technically, he was at home. A far cry from Tommy jet-setting Bainbridge. She liked it.

  “J.T., this is Ed and Annie Preston. J.T.’s a writer with Sports Today. She’s here covering the Beavers. Didn’t want her to miss out on Sal’s ribs.”

  Ed’s eyes rounded. “No kidding? Nice to meet you, J.T. Maybe you can wake up those boys before next week’s game.” He smiled at her, revealing a missing tooth. “I tell ya, Tommy, if they don’t start winning, we’ll be stuck with some fancy team that none of us can afford to watch.” Ed shook his head. “I don’t care what Mayor Wiggins says. My business hasn’t grown one iota since all these new folks moved in. Far as I can tell, they’ve done more harm than good. I hear Lojek’s is gonna hafta close.”

  “Charlie Wiggins is a fool.” They all turned to look at Annie. She was the same height as her husband, dressed in baggy jeans and a button-up shirt with ducks swimming across the fabric. It was the first words she’d uttered. She snapped her mouth shut and looked dour.

  Ed shook his head. “Heck, I don’t know what this town is coming to.”

  “I’m not moving,” said Annie as if answering an unspoken argument.

  “There’s our number. See you on the tee-vee. Nice to meet you, Ms. Green.” Ed and Annie went to get their food.

  The next number was theirs and Tommy picked up a yellow plastic tray piled high with food and two mugs of beer. “Over in the corner.” He indicated the direction with his chin and J.T. led the way.

  Tommy transferred the food from the tray to the table and they sat down.

  “What’s the deal with the mayor?”

  “He’s an ass.”

  “What else?”

  “He wants to jump-start the economy on the backs of the residents.”

  “Hmm. How?”

  Tommy cocked an eyebrow. “Are you going to eat?” J.T. picked up a rib and bit into it, chewed, swallowed. “Delicious. How does the mayor plan to jump-start the economy? Bring back the steel industry?”

  Tommy’s rib stopped halfway to his mouth. “Why did you say that?”

  “Just being facetious. Was he responsible for the new little league field?”

  Tommy took a bite and chewed. “Yep.”

  “How did Bernie fall off the ladder?”

  Tommy’s mouthful went down the wrong way. He coughed. Took a sip of beer. “The ladder was rotten. The fasteners pulled out, the ladder collapsed, and Bernie took a header. Now can we eat?” He picked up another juicy rib.

  They ate in silence. People left them alone although J.T. noticed other diners glancing their way.

  J.T. knew she should be pumping Tommy for information about his presence in Gilbeytown. Why no one seemed to know where he was. Why the negotiations with Isotori were taking so long, and how he felt about them. She’d been checking CNN every night. There was nothing new. And no news was…no news.

  If she could find out the answers to all these questions, she’d be back in Skinny’s good graces. But she still hadn’t told him that Tommy was in Gilbeytown. She was digging her own grave. But she had a feeling that whatever Tommy was going through, he had a right to do it in private.

  It was professional suicide. There was no private in journalism. Everything was grist for the presses. Still, she couldn’t do it. And that scared her.

  “I’ve seen a lot of buildings shuttered over,” she said as a waitress cleared their table, “but I saw a lot of new construction when I first drove in. What’s going on?”

  “The same thing that’s going on all over the country.”

  She smiled at the sudden vehemence in his voice.

  He shrugged. “It’s kind of a pet peeve.”

  “Think towns should stay the way they were?”

  “I don’t mind progress. I just mind what all this commuter mentality does to the people who’ve lived here for generations, through the good times and the bad. You heard what Ed said about Lojek’s Garage? I bought my first car from old man Lojek. He still works every day.

  “What’s going to happen to him when everybody discovers the Midas place. They can run ten cars through their assembly line while he’s changing one muffler.”

  “What’s going to happen to the Beavers if they build the new stadium?” J.T. asked.

  “Heard about that, did you?”

  “I’m a reporter.”

  “There’s not going to be a new stadium, not if I can help it.” He held up his hand. “I know you can’t prevent progress. You shouldn’t try to. Hell, I don’t want to, but still—” He shrugged, this time a little sheepishly. “Told you it was a pet peeve.”

  “I think it’s admirable,” said J.T., then could have bit her tongue. He was seducing her with his fervor. But it was too interesting to let go of, even if TOMMY B. AN OLD-FASHIONED GUY would never even make the back page.

  “So how do you plan to prevent it? Are you thinking about buying them?”

  “No.”

  “What are you planning to do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever move back here?”

  His eyebrows knit. “Do you ever forget you’re a reporter?”

  “Sure. Can you ever forget that I am?”

  They glowered at each other over the table.

  Tommy looked away first. “I guess I’m too used to avoiding…”

  “People?”

  He rolled his shoulder. She’d seen him do that before.

  “You know, Tommy, you must have a hell of a time making new friends.”

  “Why?”

  “Your overbearing reticence. Privacy is one thing. I respect that. But don’t you think you’re carrying it a bit far?”

  “Do you want coffee? Dessert? No? Then shall we go?” He stood up.

  J.T. got up. It looked like the evening was ending early. And she had only herself to blame.

  Four shaggy-haired boys at a nearby table jumped up simultaneously and made a beeline for Tommy. They were dressed alike in overalls and faded shirts, covered in barbeque sauce and ketchup.
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  Instead of foisting them off with a quick autograph, Tommy listened while they chattered at him about something that had happened at a game. J.T. couldn’t follow it; they were all talking at once.

  The father followed them over. Tommy extricated his hand from the smallest of the boys and shook hands with the man.

  “Sorry they bothered you. I held ’em off as long as I could. You’ve done real good by them and I’m glad they know it and appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure,” Tommy said, looking uncomfortable.

  What had he done for these boys beyond letting them accost him at dinner? Signed autographs? Talked at their school? Given them money? Whatever it was, Tommy had made friends for life.

  The woman at their table came shyly toward the group. “Come on now, boys, you leave Mr. Bainbridge alone.” She didn’t look directly at Tommy but flashed a quick smile at J.T. “Ma’am, your husband is a fine man. We sure do appreciate everything he’s doing for this town.”

  J.T.’s face flooded with heat. Surely this woman knew that Tommy was single. He’d been divorced for six years. No way could anybody mistake her for the long-legged gorgeous Cheryl Lynn. Had he never brought his wife to meet the community? That was odd. Baseball players were notoriously loyal to their families and hometowns. Tommy was no different.

  The man looked sternly at his wife. “Louise.”

  She drew back. “Excuse us. Come on, boys, let’s get to the car.” She scurried them out.

  “Sorry, ma’am, she don’t keep up with baseball or television much. Didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “Not at all,” J.T. mumbled, appalled as much by the woman’s reaction to her husband as she was at being mistaken for Tommy’s wife.

  “A natural mistake,” said Tommy, brushing away the man’s embarrassment.

  “See you tomorrow, Tommy,” the boys called before their mother whisked them out the door.

  Tomorrow? What was Tommy B. doing tomorrow?

  The man left.

  “You’ve made some fans.”

  “Crazy kids,” he said, and marched her toward the door.

  They had to stop several times before they actually got outside. Tommy was a very popular person. Of course, he was a star, a hometown boy made good. And he wasn’t too vain and self-important to appreciate their attention.

  He was humble, and J.T. knew in that moment that if she weren’t very careful, she might just fall for the baseball star herself.

  They were pulling out of the parking lot when Tommy said, “You’re right.”

  “About what?”

  “About me being too aloof.”

  His statement blindsided her. She didn’t think he was aloof. He hadn’t been with any of the people they’d met tonight. She just wanted him to answer a few questions. But she had the sense to keep her mouth shut.

  “It’s early still. Do you need to get back right away?” J.T. shook her head as a little thrill skittered through her and settled in her belly. At the same time apprehension nettled her brain. She’d been sure he’d planned to dump her as fast as he could. Maybe his sex drive was stronger than his pride.

  But instead of turning toward town, he drove in the opposite direction toward the hills.

  Then again maybe he’d just murder her and drop her body in a ravine somewhere.

  The road was narrow and winding and rose steadily into the foothills. There were a few houses along the way, but most of them were dark.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see in a minute.”

  A bar? God forbid, a hotel? But when he pulled off the road onto a dirt shoulder and stopped the car, she really began to panic. What did he have in mind? The backseat?

  “Come on.” He opened his door and got out.

  Like a sheep, she followed.

  They met at the hood of the car.

  “Look at that.” He pointed into the dark.

  Below them, Gilbeytown winked like a miniature village. From here she could see only the life—not the boarded-up stores or the houses in desperate need of paint.

  The little league field was lit up like an airport even though the games had been over hours ago. Farther along, Gilbey Field was barely discernible among the trees. Beyond them, the old steel mill kept watch—a dark, silent sentinel.

  J.T. wondered why he’d brought her here, but it was hard to form an intelligent question with Tommy standing so close.

  She shivered.

  “Cold?” He slid his arm around her. She relaxed into the curve of his shoulder as little sparks of excitement exploded inside her. She had it bad, no doubt about it. She looked up at him, his face all angles in the darkness. He turned toward her, pulled her closer, and she lifted her face, wondering—hoping—that he would kiss her.

  His face hovered above hers for an eternity. Then his hand cupped the back of her head. “I shouldn’t do this,” he said, and his lips touched hers.

  They were warm and felt as wonderful as the banked embers of a fire on a winter’s night. She felt his tongue sliding between her closed lips and she parted them for him to enter. Their tongues touched; he tasted of barbeque, beer, and pure trouble.

  And it was just what she wanted.

  He deepened the kiss. Someone sighed. She was pretty sure it was her. Her body was tight against his. She could feel the contour of his chest beneath his sweater, the stab of his belt buckle and the hard curve or his—Gee. He really wanted her.

  She rubbed against him and he moaned. His hands ran up and down her back and finally stopped at her shoulders. He pulled his mouth away. She tried to follow, but he shook his head.

  “Your motel.”

  A faint alarm clanged in her stunned mind. She shook her head. “Someone will see.”

  “Right. And not my house. Same reason.”

  She nodded, suddenly embarrassed. Here they were going hot and heavy and the logistics sucked. He’d probably lose interest before they could get to the Holiday Inn Express. She thought of those rooms at the Night n Day reserved for day rates and felt a little sick.

  “I know where. Come on.”

  She let him pull her back to the car, her enthusiasm a little doused. She was beginning to feel like a whore. A groupie. Just another baseball “Annie.”

  Maybe she should back out before it was too late. But he put an affirming hand over hers and her scruples went out the window.

  Her anxiety kicked up again when he pulled into the darkened parking lot of Gilbey Field and stopped at the office door. Once again he opened her door, helped her out. But this time he held on to her like he thought she might try to escape.

  He fumbled through a key ring with his free hand until he found one that opened the door. It was dark inside; he flicked on the light.

  Part of her brain registered that Tommy had a key. Who else had one?

  She heard movement from one of the office partitions and shrunk back.

  A head of grizzled gray hair emerged through the door followed by a lanky, stooped man. His eyes blinked sleepily, then he broke into a smile, his teeth shining like a Cheshire cat from his dark face. “Tommy.”

  “Evening, Mr. Harris. Thought you might like a little time off to run get something to eat. We’ll watch the park for you while you’re gone.”

  “Yessir. I was thinkin’ about how it would be nice to run over to Patsy’s for a cup of coffee. It’s about an hour before I have to make my rounds.”

  A twenty-dollar bill appeared in Tommy’s hand.

  “Go on now. You know I’m not gonna take your money.”

  “A guy can try.” Tommy pocketed the twenty.

  Tommy locked the door behind Mr. Harris and began pulling J.T. down the hallway.

  “That’s the night watchman?” asked J.T. as she hurried to keep up.

  “Grover Cleveland Harris. A good man to have on your team. He’s been working here since I was a kid. Kept me out of a few scrapes I can tell you.”

  J.T. needed to talk to him. But later.


  The hall was dark except for security lights at each end. Tommy stopped at the locker room, reached inside, and flipped on the light. J.T. got a visceral chill as the memory of her last escapade in a locker room flashed and disappeared.

  This time it would be worth whatever happened.

  Tommy guided her inside and pulled up short at his locker, yanked open the door. He rummaged inside, extracted a couple of condoms from an unopened cardboard box, and kicked the locker shut.

  He was going to make love with her. J.T.’s heart kicked up to a frantic beat. Fear or desire, she was teetering on both. He hurried her across the empty room. They didn’t stop until they were standing in the media room.

  Tommy let go of her long enough to lock the door.

  Then he turned to her. The only light came from the video equipment, and Tommy looked slightly green and nebulous. Like a superhero. Like her superhero.

  He pulled her up to him, nipped at her lips until she opened her mouth, then plunged inside. There was no one to see, no journalists, no cameras. There was no going back now.

  They were going to christen the new leather couch.

  Chapter 12

  Tommy moved her backward until they reached the couch. He pushed her gently down. She clung to his neck and pulled him down with her. His body covered hers and she could feel his arousal between her thighs.

  He wanted her. No doubt about it. And she wanted him. What harm could it do? It might do them both some good.

  His hand slipped under her sweater, caressed her side as it made its inevitable journey to her breast. And all the while he kissed her. Attacking, probing, releasing, attacking again until she felt the heat pool between her legs.

  She opened her thighs and he pushed against her. Still kissing her. His hand reached her breast. Her breath caught and so did his. She squeezed her thighs against his hips. He groaned and slipped his fingers beneath her bra.

  She was on fire, dimly aware that she was about to have sex with the great Tommy B. They wouldn’t stop this time. She wanted him. A fierce need unlike any she’d ever felt. It wasn’t because he was famous, because she’d already realized that if Tommy had been a mechanic at Lojek’s Garage or worked the drive-through window at Wendy’s, she would have wanted him just as much.