“Things got a little carried away,” she admitted with more embarrassment now than she’d felt at the time. But she’d been young and hot-tempered. Now she was just hot-tempered. “I didn’t mean to throw the first punch. And I certainly didn’t think the benches would clear.”
“You started a brawl?” His expression was one of astonishment.
“She did.” Her father nodded. “And was suspended for two games.”
“But I learned my lesson. It never happened again no matter how ticked off I got. We lost one of the games I missed and it cost us. We didn’t win our division.”
Her father covered her hand with his. “And you apologized publically. I was proud of you for that,” he said and gave her hand a gentle pat.
“Yes, well.” She cleared her throat, conscious of Matt’s eyes on her. “It was the right thing to do.” She grinned. “But I was still pissed my streak was broken.”
“Spoken like a true competitor,” Matt said. Was that a hint of admiration in his dark eyes? No. It couldn’t be. Matt Scanlon didn’t admire anything about her. And never would.
* * *
There was one thing about San Francisco Matt didn’t think he’d ever get used to—the weather. He remembered some old quote about the coldest winter someone ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Whoever said it wasn’t joking.
“Matt, it was a pleasure.” Matt withdrew his hand from the warmth of his jacket pocket to shake John Maxwell’s outstretched hand. “Maybe we can do this again.”
“I’d like that.” He glanced at Kelly. She was wearing a Blaze sweatshirt and had her arms wrapped around her midriff as if hugging it to her body would somehow warm her. Her cheeks were tinged with pink from the chilly night air, and wisps of her hair had escaped from her ponytail and lifted in the light breeze that had drifted in from the bay. She didn’t seem quite as intense as she did when she was pestering him about interviews. In the presence of her father, she was softer, more approachable.
“Maybe you can come by the house during your next home stand and check out the Chevelle,” John suggested as he zipped his black Blaze sweatshirt all the way to his chin. “Pleasanton isn’t that far from the city.”
Kelly’s brow furrowed. “Dad, I’m sure Matt isn’t interested in seeing your car.”
“Not true. I’d love to see it,” he said quickly. And not just to rile Kelly. The Chevelle was a classic. He’d been dying to see it ever since John had told him about it. Next to baseball, surfing and women, cars were his favorite subject. “We have a ten-day home stand in early August. I’ll get your number from Kelly and give you a call.”
“Sounds like a plan.” John put his arm around his daughter and hugged her. “How about I walk you home before I catch the light rail to the BART station?”
“I live up the block, remember?” she said with a smile. Her affection for her father was obvious. “And it’s getting late. You have to work tomorrow.”
“I’ll see she gets home, John,” Matt said, ignoring Kelly’s frown. “I live nearby.”
“Hello. I’m an adult.” She looked from him to her father. “I can get home by myself.”
John put his hands on her shoulders. “Humor me. Okay, Peanut?”
Matt bit back a laugh as Kelly rolled her eyes. “Dad.”
“Sorry.” John grinned. “Just let Matt walk you to your building. It’ll make your old man happy.”
“You’re not old.” Kelly leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I love you, Dad,” she said softly. “Give Mom a hug for me and tell her I’ll see her soon.”
“Will do.” John turned to him. “I know you’ve still got Dodger blue flowing in those veins of yours, but the Blaze will grow on you.” He winked. “If you give us a chance.”
“I’ll do my best.”
John gave him a nod of approval. “That’s all anyone can ask.” He glanced behind him. “There’s the train. I’d better go.”
“Bye, Dad,” Kelly called after him as he stepped off the curb and crossed King Street. After John disappeared from sight, she turned back to him. The soft expression was gone but at least she wasn’t looking at him like she wanted to knock his block off—like she usually did. “You don’t have to walk me home.”
“Yes. I do. I promised your dad.”
“He won’t know.”
“I will.”
She studied him thoughtfully for a few seconds. Under the streetlights, her whiskey eyes appeared darker. Almost as dark as his own. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
Side by side, they walked past Kamu’s entrance and up 2nd Street not talking. “You must like living so close to work,” he said, finally breaking the silence.
“I do.” She reached up to brush an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I walk just about everywhere.”
“Do you even own a car?”
“Yes.”
“I like your dad.”
“He likes you too,” she said grudgingly.
“That bugs you, doesn’t it?” Matt glimpsed a lone jogger heading their way and moved closer to Kelly to let the guy pass. His shoulder brushed hers; she shifted to her right to break the contact. The move reminded him of the night they’d met. Her body language that night made it clear she didn’t care for him. Obviously, that hadn’t changed. It bothered him but he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he cared what Kelly thought about him. What anyone thought about him hadn’t mattered in a very long time.
“He doesn’t know how you talked to me in L.A.” They stopped in front of her brick building. “If he did, he wouldn’t have been so friendly.”
“You gave as good as you got,” he reminded her. “I have a feeling your father wouldn’t have been surprised by your language that night.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You started it.”
“That’s debatable.”
“I think I’ll go inside before I say something I’ll regret.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her keys. “Thank you for walking me home.”
“You’re welcome.”
She turned toward the glass double door entrance, but then halted to look back at him. “About that interview with Trevor Jackson—”
“It’s not happening,” he cut her off more brusquely than he’d intended. “I have nothing to say to anyone right now. Why can’t you get that through that thick head of yours?”
Her jaw tightened as her eyes flashed with fire. “You know, for a minute there, I thought I might have been wrong about you. But I wasn’t. You are an ass.” She spun around and jerked open the door.
He watched her stalk through the lobby and punch the call button for the elevator. She didn’t look at him and several seconds later stepped into the elevator.
Running a hand through his hair, he turned and headed toward King Street. He tried to ignore the little voice inside of him telling him he was the ass she claimed him to be but he couldn’t drown it out. He’d been acting like a prick ever since he’d met Kelly Maxwell. Wait, that wasn’t quite true. His behavior had been reprehensible for almost a year—it just took that night in L.A. for him to realize it.
* * *
Kelly threw her purse on her bed and stripped off her Blaze sweatshirt. Even though she’d just finished dinner she had an overwhelming urge to go to the kitchen and stuff her face. It was always like this. At first, her eating disorder had been about her body, but somewhere along the line it became about emotions she didn’t know how to deal with. Instead of dealing with her feelings she began to numb them with food. It worked for as long as she was eating, but afterward, when she was so full she felt like she’d burst, the feelings she’d been trying to ignore were still there, unresolved. And what she was left with was the guilt and shame of being so weak.
The good thing was she now recognized her pattern. The bad thing was it would never go away. She would always have to deal with it. It was as much a sickness as alcoholism or drug abuse.
She needed a distraction that didn’t involve food yet would calm the edgine
ss Matt always seemed to evoke within her.
Quickly, she slipped off her shoes, shed her clothes and moved to the bathroom. After turning on the shower faucet, she pulled the elastic band from her hair and tossed it on the marble vanity before stepping into the shower stall and closing the glass door behind her.
The hot pulsating stream of water cascaded down her body but it didn’t relax her. Leaning back, she let the water soak her hair and tried to get Matt Scanlon out of her head. But it was impossible. The man was infuriating and had been from the moment she’d laid eyes on him.
It had been less than a month ago, yet it seemed like yesterday.
That day had started marvelously. Although traveling with the Blaze on their four-day road trip to L.A., she’d decided to stay with her sister, Kayla, rather than at the hotel with the team. She’d been looking forward to the trip not only because she missed her sister, but because she wanted to meet the man Kayla was dating. Her costar on A New Dawn, Sean Barrett.
She’d liked Sean immediately. He was a nice guy and even hotter in person than he was on TV. It was obvious he was head over heels for Kayla, and the feeling was mutual. Kelly had never seen her sister happier. They’d spent the first day at Dodger Stadium where the Blaze had beaten the Dodgers handily. After the game, she and Kayla had gone back to Kayla’s house to change clothes and then Sean picked them up for a night on the town.
They’d gone to dinner at The Sky Room in Long Beach. It was all downhill from there.
“Should we wait, or go ahead and order?” Kayla asked Sean.
Turning from the lovely view of Long Beach Harbor, Kelly asked, “Wait for what?”
“I invited my friend Matt to join us.” Sean reached for his glass of wine. “But he probably had some media obligations after the game. I’m sure he’ll be here shortly though.”
“Media?” Her initial thought was his friend Matt was also an actor, but it didn’t take long for her to put two and two together as soon as the “after the game” portion of Sean’s comment registered. “Is your friend Matt Scanlon?”
“Yes.” He set his glass on the table.
Kelly compressed her lips to keep from saying something she might regret. Scanlon’s downward spiral had been well documented by the media for well over a year. The once admired catcher was now a tabloid staple and had been thrown out of more games in the past three months than he had in his entire career. That train wreck was joining them for dinner? Wasn’t that just peachy?
She knew the exact moment he’d entered the restaurant. The noise level in the room heightened, and across the table she saw the look of recognition in Sean’s green eyes.
“Sorry I’m late,” Matt said when he reached the table. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the frank appreciation in his gaze when he looked at her sister. Sean noticed it too. He lifted his arm and draped it over Kayla’s shoulders possessively. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Kayla,” he said smoothly as he pulled his chair out and sat next to her while still ogling Kayla. Kelly shifted in her chair, leaning slightly away from him. She didn’t like him already. “I’m a big fan of your work,” he added.
“Thank you,” Kayla replied politely and glanced at her. “This is my sister, Kelly.”
Matt gave her a cursory nod. “Nice to meet you.” His tone was perfunctory, his gaze dismissive. After a quick perusal, she’d been assessed and found lacking.
Irritated, she pasted a fake smile on her face. “Same here,” she murmured, immediately aware of his scent, a blend of soap, shampoo and expensive cologne. It traveled along her nerve endings and filled her with sexual awareness.
Damn him.
Matt turned his attention to Kayla. “Did you enjoy the game?”
“Yes. We had great seats right behind the dugout.”
Kelly picked up her wineglass and couldn’t resist saying, “And our team won. It doesn’t get much better than that.” She sipped her wine. If he expected her to suck up to him like most women, he had another think coming.
“You’re Blaze fans?” His expression was one of such shock it was all she could do not to laugh. Of course, he would think the sun rose and set on his precious Dodgers.
“Since birth,” Kelly said as she set her glass back on the table. “Right, Kay?” she asked her sister. As Kayla nodded, she continued confidently, “One down, three to go.”
“You’re not sweeping us.” Matt leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a hard stare. “You got lucky today.”
Kelly shrugged. “Rizzo’s pitching tomorrow. And as I recall, you struck out three times the last time you faced him.”
He scowled. “Rizzo’s an overrated punk.”
“Dave Rizzo’s won the Cy Young award two times,” she countered. “And when the phrase ‘overrated punk’ is used, he’s not the man who comes to mind.” The air became thick with tension as their eyes clashed.
Take that, asshole.
“The band is amazing,” Kayla said, breaking the taut silence. “There aren’t many restaurants like this anymore.” She glanced around the room. “And with this Art Deco décor it’s almost like we’ve stepped back in time.”
“Would you like to dance?” Sean asked Kayla.
Oh shit. The last thing she wanted was for Sean and Kayla to leave her alone with Matt.
Kayla’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to.” She looked at Kelly and then Matt. “You don’t mind if we leave you for a few minutes, do you?”
“No,” Kelly said, giving Matt a wary glance. “We’ll be fine.”
As soon as Sean and Kayla left the table, he turned to her, his dark eyes blazing. “Were you calling me a punk?”
She shrugged. “If the shoe fits...”
“You’re nothing like your sister,” he said harshly. “Are you gay?”
“What?” She stared at him with amazement.
“It’s a simple question,” Matt said, his expression filled with contempt. “You’re quite the Amazon. Admit it. Beefy chicks like you are into women, right?”
Kelly clenched her fists, tamping down the urge to punch him. “My sexual preference is none of your business. But yours is everyone’s business, isn’t it?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, according to the tabloids, you’re quite fond of strippers and porn stars.”
“Don’t believe everything you read,” he said tersely and pushed his chair back.
“Leaving so soon?” Her heart pounded as she met his angry gaze. “What’s the matter? Can’t take the heat, so you’re getting out of the kitchen?”
“Baby, I can handle anything you can dish out.” Matt’s smile was smug. He glanced over his shoulder toward the blonde hostess near the entrance. “But I’d rather spend the evening with a real woman.”
Kelly snorted derisively. “She’s minor league, Scanlon. But since that’s where you’re headed, she’s probably just your speed.”
“You really are a bitch, aren’t you?” he shot back, not bothering to lower his voice or conceal his animosity.
“Hey, I call them like I see them. And what I see is a once great player embarrassing himself and his teammates on a daily basis. The Dodgers are either going to trade your sorry ass, or send you back to triple A.”
Matt leaned toward her, his face inches from hers. The tension between them was palpable. “Fuck you,” he said in a low controlled voice.
“Fuck me?” She smiled sweetly even though her pulse was racing full throttle through her veins. “You should be so lucky.”
Chapter Five
Shaking off the memory of that night in L.A., Kelly turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She dried herself with a fluffy towel and then plugged in the hair dryer and blew out her hair.
Minutes later, she was lying in bed but sleep was elusive. She couldn’t stop thinking about Matt. Tonight she’d glimpsed a different side of him. A side she liked. At dinner with her father, his demeanor had been pleasant, friendly even. It reminded he
r of the interviews she’d seen of him before he’d gone off the deep end. In them he was personable, humorous and humble.
What the hell had happened to him?
The musical ring tone of her cell phone cut through the silence. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand as she reached for it. It was just after eleven. Who would be calling this late?
She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID but she had to answer it. All the players and coaches had her cell phone number in case they needed to reach her. She prayed that one of them hadn’t gotten pulled over for drunk driving again. That was all she needed. The last thing she wanted was to get out of her warm bed and post bail. Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.
“Hello?”
“I know it’s late, but I took a chance you’d still be up.” It was Matt. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, automatically shifting into PR mode. What trouble could he have gotten into in the ten minutes it took for him to walk from her place to his?
After a brief silence, he said, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” He paused. “You know, outside your building.”
She rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling. Moonlight filtered in from the blinds, bathing the room in a warm soft glow.
“Does that mean you’ll do the interview with Trevor Jackson?”
“No.”
Damn it. She should have known better. So much for getting her hopes up. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“If it was anyone but me asking, would you do it?”
“No. I still wouldn’t do it.”
That made her feel marginally better. For a while there she’d thought it was personal. “You have to know I’m going to keep after you about these interviews. It’s my job.”
“I’ll keep saying no.”
“I’ll wear you down.” She smiled. “I’m tenacious like that.”
“I’ve figured that out. By the way, in case you’re worried, your secret is safe with me.”
“What secret?” she asked with trepidation. Did he know about her eating disorder? He couldn’t, could he? No one knew except her family.
The Winning Season Page 5