Tonight the fans had something to cheer about. It was the bottom of the eighth and the Blaze led the Brewers by a score of five to three.
While he’d never been one to let his nerves get the better of him, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been apprehensive about his first start. All eyes were on him and he knew what they were thinking, and what they were expecting.
He wasn’t going to give it to them.
Lopes took a pitch; it was called a ball. The fans cheered. Matt pulled his bat from under his arm and began to take a few practice swings. Over the hum of the crowd he heard a few jeers directed at him but ignored them. After eight years, and playing in virtually every ballpark in the league, he’d gotten used to it. It was when he’d begun to hear them in Dodger Stadium, from the fans who had always adored him, that it stung.
After a few swings, he rested his bat on his shoulder and was unable to resist glancing toward the dugout. He’d seen Kelly sitting in the first row right after the national anthem. The guy sitting next to her was older—probably in his fifties. It was evident by her wide smile and her body language that the man was important to her. A lot of women went for older guys but he didn’t figure Kelly to be one of them.
He thought back to their first heated exchange in Los Angeles. He’d acted like a jerk and couldn’t blame her for her explosive reaction. The fact was he’d gotten used to women throwing themselves at him—it happened whenever he was out in public. In the past year he’d taken advantage of that particular perk quite frequently.
But that night in the restaurant, when he’d sat next to Kelly, it was evident she wasn’t one of his adoring fans. It had ticked him off and, consequently, he’d proceeded to do everything in his power to antagonize her. He was embarrassed now that he’d gotten such a kick out of it. Or at least he had until she’d eviscerated him with her sharp tongue. And just as she’d predicted that night, the Dodgers had traded him not long after.
The crack of the bat jolted him from his thoughts. He turned to see Lopes hustling to first after hitting a grounder between first and second base. As he trudged to the plate, his name was announced over the loudspeakers and he was surprised when the cheers outweighed the boos. So far tonight, he’d gotten one hit and had thrown out two runners trying to steal second base. It wasn’t much, but then he knew the minute he’d stepped into the Blaze clubhouse that the road to redemption wouldn’t be an easy one.
* * *
Compressing her lips into a grim line, Kelly watched Matt brusquely wave off the reporters who had descended like locusts around his locker. He turned his back on them and rubbed his wet hair with a towel until they gravitated to Marquis Lopes, whose locker was in between Matt’s and J.T.’s.
The mood in the clubhouse was upbeat. The Blaze had taken the first game of the three-game series and had finally ended their losing streak. Matt had played a good game, but evidently it wasn’t good enough for him to break his silence with the media. Staring at his back, she couldn’t help but notice the play of his powerful muscles as he dried his hair. Another towel was slung low around his hips and for one brief moment she allowed herself to imagine what was underneath it.
A sharp tap on her shoulder startled her. She turned to find Trevor Jackson, a reporter from KGO, standing next to her.
“What’s the status on my interview with Scanlon?” he asked as politely as a man could after being put off as many times as she’d put him off.
“I’m working on it, Trevor.” She gave him an encouraging smile she hoped would buy her a little more time. “Can you give me another day or two? He’s not talking to anyone right now, but I promise you’ll get first crack at him.”
Trevor was a former MLB player who’d grown up in the Bay Area. After retiring, he’d gone into broadcasting and was the lead sports reporter for a local television station. He also had his own show on a popular sports-only radio channel.
Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “Are you yanking my chain, Maxwell? I heard Jim Rome is trying to get him on his show.”
“I haven’t spoken to Mr. Rome’s people,” Kelly assured him, although she couldn’t say for sure that Jim Rome hadn’t contacted Matt’s agent. Still, all interviews had to be approved by her, so if the popular sports talk radio host was trying to get Matt on his show, she would hear about it. She gave Trevor a placating smile. “Have I ever let you down?”
“Not yet.” Trevor shot Matt a cursory glance. “Two days.” His tone was ominous. “If I don’t hear from you I’m going to the GM.” After giving her a reproving stare, he turned and headed for Dave Rizzo’s locker.
Annoyed, she looked back at Matt and had to stifle a gasp when he pulled the towel from his hips and revealed the most perfect ass she’d ever seen in her life. A distinct warmth flooded between her legs as, mesmerized, she watched him pull on a pair of white briefs.
Like a voyeur, she let her gaze roam over him. His body was magnificent—powerful muscles shaped his long legs and strong thighs. When he reached for the jeans in his locker, his sculpted muscles flexed with the flow of his movements.
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to turn away. The throbbing of her pulse, along with thick beat of awareness in her blood, reminded her of how long it had been since she’d been with a man. It was obviously too damn long if Matt Scanlon could elicit this kind of reaction in her.
Kelly checked her watch and remembered that her dad was waiting for her at Kamu’s. Not giving the Neanderthal another glance, she headed for the clubhouse exit.
* * *
Kamu’s wasn’t busy. Matt assumed it was because the game had been over for a while, and also because it was a weeknight. He hadn’t planned on stopping by, but he was hungry and didn’t have much in the way of food at his place. Kamu’s takeout seemed like the perfect solution until he could stock up.
After placing his order at the to-go window near the entrance, he headed to the bar to wait for his food. He spied an empty bar stool and slid onto it. The man next to him was wearing a Blaze cap turned backward on his head and was watching Blaze highlights on one of the flat panels.
The bartender approached and asked him if he wanted anything. He shook his head and told him he was waiting for takeout. The guy nodded and said “good game” before moving to the other end of the bar. The exchange caught the attention of the man next to him. Matt felt the stranger’s eyes on him and turned to meet his friendly gaze.
“He’s right. You called a good game tonight.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” The guy looked familiar, but he wasn’t sure why. “Were you there?”
“I try to make all the home games if I can.” The man lifted his beer and took a sip. “Must be tough playing for a team you don’t like all that much.” Matt stared at him, not quite sure how to respond. The man put down his beer and grinned. “I follow baseball pretty closely. And you’ve been nothing but vocal about the Blaze in the past.”
“That’s true,” Matt admitted. “But I’m here now.” He wanted to add that his loyalty was to San Francisco but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t feel that way. At least not yet. The trade still stung.
A smile creased the man’s face. “Very politically correct of you. It’s probably good you’re not doing interviews right now.”
“I just want to play ball.” He turned his attention to the television. Why did anyone give a shit about what he had to say anyway?
“I get that,” the man said in a solemn tone. Matt turned again to meet his shrewd gaze. “There are times when a man has to prove his mettle.”
“Are you a reporter?” Matt asked. He had the balls of one, that was for sure. No question was off-limits to them. Which was why he wasn’t talking to them.
The man let out a short laugh. “Hell, no. I’m a pharmacist.”
He’d never met a pharmacist before. “You like doing that?”
“It’s a living,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. Matt studied him. The guy was probably around fifty. It was hard to tell how
tall he was, but he appeared to be in decent shape for his age. “I played baseball in college and hoped to make it my career but I tore up my knee. Going to the show was out of the question after that.”
“I’m sorry.”
The man waved his hand. “Don’t be. I’m over it.” He grinned good-naturedly. “I wouldn’t trade my life for anything. I’ve got a great family and season tickets. I can’t ask for more than that.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all,” Matt said, feeling a slight twinge of envy.
“I do.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist. “I do believe my daughter has stood me up. I’ll give her five more minutes and then I’m heading for home.” Glancing up from his watch, the man’s eyes brightened. “Ah, there she is.”
Matt turned on his stool and got the shock of his life when he saw Kelly walking toward them. Now he knew why the guy had seemed familiar. He was the man she’d been sitting next to at the game. Her wide smile faltered when she noticed him seated next to her father.
“Sorry I’m late.” She came to a halt just behind them. “One of the players cornered me before I could get out of the clubhouse.” She looked from her father to him and it was obvious by her annoyed expression she wasn’t happy to see him. “What are you doing here?”
“Talking to your father. It’s been enlightening,” he shot back just to rile her. It worked. Her eyes darkened. Suppressing a satisfied smile, he turned to Kelly’s father. “I didn’t get your name.”
“It’s John,” she answered for her father. “What were you two talking about?” She directed the question to John Maxwell.
“This and that,” John said with a shrug. “I was about to invite Matt to eat with us. He probably doesn’t know a lot of people being new here in the Bay Area.”
“I’m sure Matt has other plans.” Kelly fixed him with a hard stare that spoke volumes. “Don’t you?”
“I just ordered takeout,” Matt said, and then couldn’t help himself. “But I could stay here and eat it with you and your dad.”
“Great. Let’s get a table,” John said, seemingly unaware of the tension between them. Matt met Kelly’s furious gaze and grinned.
Score another one for him.
Chapter Four
“No kidding?” Matt exclaimed. “You’re restoring a ’68 Chevelle?”
Kelly looked up from her pasta. Oh hell. The rapt expression on Matt’s face could mean only one thing. He was a car freak just like her father. The father who was a little too chummy with Matt Scanlon for her liking.
“Originally, I had my eye on a ’69 Corvette, but when I saw the Chevelle, I couldn’t resist,” her father said, picking up a French fry and dragging it through the large pool of ketchup on his plate. Next to her mom and baseball, classic cars were John Maxwell’s other great love.
“Four doors or two?”
“Two-door hard-top coupe. With the semi-fastback flowing roofline.”
“Sweet,” Matt said appreciatively. “What color is she?”
“She?” Kelly interjected. “It’s a car, people.”
Both her father and Matt looked at her as if she’d just declared the moon landing was a hoax. Now if Kayla was here, she’d totally be into this car stuff. Her sister had spent as many hours in the garage with their father as Kelly had spent at baseball games with him.
“Her color is the original Matador Red,” John said to Matt with an emphasis on the “her.” “I’ll have her repainted that same color when I’m finished.” He popped the fry into his mouth.
“Those coupes are hard to come by.” Matt set his fork on his plate. “Chevrolet only made about 60,000 of them that year.”
Kelly picked up her water and took a sip. What she really needed was a stiff drink. Watching Matt charm her father was sickening. The only reason he’d joined them was because he knew it would irk her.
“Do you think you’ll be able to get a substitute for the charity game on Thursday?” Her father, who was sitting to her left, finally changed the subject. Thank God. Any more car talk and she might very well go insane.
“I’ve got a couple of possibilities. I hear Trey Gentry’s got a new girlfriend. I might hit her up.”
“What charity game?” Matt asked. The waitress had brought him his take-out order, then had come back with a plate when he told her he’d decided to stay. Since then she’d returned to the table several times to check on his water glass. By the way the attractive redhead was ogling him it was pretty obvious she was hoping for more than just a big tip. Oddly though, other than thanking her politely, he wasn’t showing any interest.
“The annual softball game between the wives and girlfriends of the Blaze and the Oakland A’s,” she told him. “The proceeds go to a different charity every year.”
“Oh, a powder puff game.”
“Most of the wives take it pretty seriously. They don’t like to lose.”
“You never liked losing either,” her dad reminded her.
He was right about that. She’d been born with a competitive streak. “I still don’t.”
John chuckled. “She gets that from me,” he said proudly. “Right, Peanut?”
“Dad!” Kelly’s face grew hot. Great. Just great. The last thing she wanted was anyone—especially Matt—to know her childhood nickname. It would probably be all over the clubhouse by tomorrow afternoon. He would surely love to share this little nugget with J.T.—since they seemed to have become friends. Then, of course, J.T. would share it with someone else, and so on, and so on. By all that was holy, if one person dared to call her Peanut tomorrow she was going to hunt Scanlon down and throttle him.
“Peanut?” Matt’s dark brows arched in amusement.
Oh yeah, he was so going to tell. Ever since they’d met in L.A. he’d had it in for her.
“Sorry.” Her father at least had the decency to look contrite. “I know you hate that.”
“I didn’t mind it when I was five, but I’m thirty, Dad.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” He gave her a mischievous wink. “Can I help it if I still think of you and Kayla as my little girls?” Turning his attention to Matt, he continued, “When you two have children you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Glancing at Matt, she saw his smile fade and the color drain from his face. He reached for his water glass and took a long drink.
“He didn’t mean you and I are going to have kids,” she said quickly, “together.” Jeez, was the thought so repugnant it made him ill? “Honestly, if you and I were the last two people on earth the human population would die out.”
She waited, but he said nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Where was the snappy retort or stinging barb? Was he losing his touch? It wasn’t like him to let her get the last word in. He put his glass down and met her gaze. His dark eyes didn’t have a trace of their usual amusement, smugness or disdain. Instead they looked sad...haunted almost. She wondered why and then chastised herself for caring.
“What’s the charity this year?” John asked after giving her a disapproving frown. Fine, so that last remark might have been uncalled for. But her dad had no clue how rude Matt had been to her. Especially the night they’d met.
“It’s the Wishes Do Come True program.”
John nodded with approval. “Good organization.”
“What do they do?” Matt asked. A bit of color had returned to his face and the sadness she’d glimpsed in his eyes was gone.
“They grant wishes for sick children.” She laid her fork on her plate.
“The Blaze have always been very active in the community.” John picked up another French fry. “I imagine the Dodgers are as well.”
“Yes.” Matt nodded. “I was involved with a few charities in L.A.”
“If you’re looking for something up here to support,” Kelly said, “the Wishes Do Come True program might be worth considering.”
“Maybe.” Matt regarded her with enigmatic eyes. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“I’m
not pressuring you, or anything.”
“That’s a first.” Now that was more like it. He was back to his sardonic self.
“It doesn’t apply to interviews, though,” she clarified just in case he thought she was going soft on him. There was no chance of that, not when she was still trying to prove herself to her boss. “I’m still going to ride your ass about those.”
“Good thing your mother isn’t here.” John grinned. “You know how she feels about you swearing.”
“All I said was ass, Dad. That’s not really swearing.”
Her father favored her with a pointed stare. “You and I both know you swear like a sailor.”
“I can vouch for that,” Matt chimed in and followed it up with a lazy smile that made her insides flutter. Her mind flashed to the locker room when he’d pulled his towel off and she’d caught a glimpse of his sculpted body. Why the hell did he have to be so damn hot?
“In my defense, I swear a lot less than I did in college.” She put her hand on her father’s forearm. “Remember when I got thrown out of that game with Santa Clara?”
John laughed. “Boy, do I. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that angry. I couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. And I couldn’t blame you. That was one of the cleanest picks I’ve ever seen. That girl was out by a mile.”
“I know. I was absolutely livid.” She met Matt’s inquisitive gaze. “I had a streak going that season. I’d thrown out seven players in a row trying to steal second or third base.”
“That’s some streak. I’d be pissed too.” He leaned back in his chair. The white cotton shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the collar and revealed his bronzed skin. “Did you get tossed because of the swearing, or did something else happen?”
“Oh, something else happened all right,” her father said before she could reply. “And it wasn’t pretty.”
Matt’s eyes flickered with interest. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
The Winning Season Page 4