The Winning Season

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The Winning Season Page 8

by Alison Packard


  * * *

  “Will you be at the game tonight?” Matt asked Kelly as they walked toward the employee entrance to Blaze Field. He was enjoying this sudden truce between them and wondered how long it would last. Until she started badgering him about those damn interviews again, that’s how long. The interview with Trevor Jackson had gone well but he didn’t want to make a habit of them. The media was a distraction he didn’t need right now.

  “Yes. But I’ll be leaving right afterward. I have a softball game that starts at eight.”

  “Where do you play?” He glanced at her, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts. She wasn’t overly endowed but what she had was more than enough. He appreciated a nice rack as much as the next guy, but he’d always been a leg man, and hers were sexier than hell. The glimpse he’d gotten that night in the kitchen proved that.

  “At a park over near 6th and Folsom.”

  “I think I know that park. I run there sometimes.”

  “Kelly,” a feminine voice called from behind them. Both he and Kelly turned to see Stacia heading toward them with a wide smile on her face.

  Shit. Stacia was the last person he wanted to see.

  “I thought that was you,” Stacia said to Kelly and then shifted her attention to him. “Hi, Matt.”

  “Hey.” He nodded at her. A few nights ago he’d been ready and willing to take her to bed but now that he knew she was Kelly’s roommate there was no way he was hitting that. A month ago he wouldn’t have cared. But then, a month ago he hadn’t cared about anything except numbing the pain he was in.

  “I thought you were flying to Tokyo,” Kelly said to Stacia.

  “That’s next week.” Stacia looked pointedly at him. “I’ll be around until then,” she said with a suggestive smile.

  Great. Now he was going to have to have “the conversation.” Ironically, that particular conversation usually came after he’d scored with a woman, not before.

  Kelly glanced at the slim watch on her wrist. “I’ve got to get back to my office. My email inbox is overflowing and I’ve got some press releases to write. I’ll see you at home, Stacia.” She turned and put her hand on his forearm. Her fingers were warm and soft against his skin. A spike of heat caught him low in his gut, taking him by surprise. She squeezed his arm gently and continued, “Thanks for being so kind to Lily.”

  “It wasn’t hard,” he said, very aware of the faint citrusy scent of her perfume. “She’s a good kid.”

  “And brave too.” Withdrawing her hand, she reached up to brush her hair back. The next time he saw her it would be back in a ponytail. A pity—her hair was beautiful. “I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re going on the road with us?”

  “Yep.” Her eyes gleamed with bemusement. “Usually, either Katherine or I go. Someone’s got to keep an eye on you guys,” she said with a wry grin and then turned and headed for the stadium. As she walked away he couldn’t help but watch and enjoy the gentle sway of her hips and the long sexy stride of her legs. Kelly Maxwell could rock a sundress that was for damn sure.

  “Kelly has a game tonight.” Stacia put her hand on his arm. “She’ll probably be home late. Why don’t you come by?”

  He tore his gaze from Kelly’s athletic body and met Stacia’s hopeful eyes. “I have a game too.”

  Her smile faltered. “Oh, I forgot. Maybe another night then.”

  “I’ve got a long road trip coming up.” His profession really did come in handy sometimes. “And honestly, I need to concentrate on baseball right now.” It wasn’t a lie, and truth be told, it wouldn’t have stopped him if he really wanted to have sex with her. But he didn’t. Not anymore. She looked like every other woman he’d been with the past year. He couldn’t remember any of their names, or why the hell he’d thought sleeping with them was the answer to his problems.

  “You didn’t feel that way the other night.” As she let go of his arm, her eyes narrowed. “It’s because of Kelly, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She told me how you guys are always fighting. You probably don’t want to be around her any more than you have to.”

  “It’s not that. She’s...she’s not half bad.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. Behind Stacia, a couple of guys in Blaze T-shirts were taking his picture with their cell phones. One of them gave him a thumbs-up sign accompanied by a lascivious grin and then they headed for the Blaze souvenir and apparel store adjacent to the stadium. “The truth is I’m starting over here in San Francisco. Baseball has to be my top priority right now.” He paused and used the old standby. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  Stacia let out an incredulous laugh. “That’s usually my line,” she said and shrugged. “It’s your loss.”

  “I’m sure it is,” he said. “I’ve got to go warm up with the team. The game is starting soon.”

  Her eyes flickered with annoyance. “Sure. Whatever. I’ll see you around.”

  “See you.” He didn’t bother watching her walk away. Instead he headed for the ballpark.

  All of a sudden, that six-day road trip he’d been dreading didn’t seem so bad.

  Chapter Seven

  Playing professional baseball and traveling around the country had seemed exciting when Matt was twelve years old. Actually doing it, not so much. It was grueling, especially near the end of a 162-game season. Road trips to the Midwest and the East Coast were the worst. The long flights, different time zones and hotel rooms that looked exactly alike no matter what city they were in took its toll. Even on a player who was in excellent physical condition.

  Still, he wouldn’t trade his profession for another. Baseball was in his blood. It was a fact of his life. Just like the color of his eyes, or his blood type.

  The road trip was half over. An hour or so ago, the Blaze had won their third and final game in Philadelphia. Tomorrow morning they would board their chartered plane and head for Cincinnati to play the Reds in a three-game series. If they could sweep that series, the Blaze just might return to San Francisco leading the Western division. That, of course, depended on how the Dodgers and the Padres fared in their respective games.

  It was after eleven but he wasn’t tired. Instead, he was wired—a usual occurrence after a night game. He was also hungry. As soon as he got off the bus transporting the team from Citizens Bank Park to their hotel he was going to take advantage of the hotel’s 24-hour room service and get some grub.

  “The Dodgers and Padres both lost,” J.T., who was sitting next to him checking game scores on his cell phone, said.

  “That’s good news for us,” Matt replied. It was the first time since he’d been traded that he didn’t feel like a traitor because he was happy the Dodgers had lost a game. He cocked his head and focused his gaze two rows in front of him where Kelly was sitting next to the skipper. The light in the bus was dim, but he could see they had their heads together. Tom Morgan had made it a point to sit next to Kelly when they all got on the bus. He couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about. He’d assumed it was media business but he’d heard her husky laugh several times so now he wasn’t sure.

  Not that he cared. Yeah, he and Kelly had enjoyed a nice lunch with Lily and her mother, but since then she’d reverted back to her old ways. Hounding him to make nice with the reporters and beat writers in the clubhouse. The tentative truce they’d forged had disappeared the minute he’d adamantly told her the interview with Trevor Jackson was a onetime thing and that his stance on the media hadn’t changed.

  “Morgan said I’ll probably get a start against the Reds,” J.T. was saying.

  “That’s a wise move.” Matt turned to look at him. “The next two months are going to be brutal. You need more playing time and I’ll need the rest. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

  J.T. rested his phone on his thigh. “I really think we can take the division. We’ve got the pitching, and our bats are starting to come alive. Lopes has been on fire the last
four games.”

  “He’s getting hot at the right time,” Matt said. “And the rest of the lineup is starting to produce. If we can keep the momentum going we’ll get to the postseason. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

  J.T. regarded him thoughtfully. “This has to be hard on you. I mean, the Dodgers drafted you in college. You’ve spent your whole career with them.”

  Matt shrugged. “It is what it is. It’s not like I didn’t make it easy for them to trade me.”

  “Some of us were worried when we heard you were joining the team.”

  “I figured that.”

  “I can’t speak for Rizzo and his buddies, but the rest of us aren’t worried anymore. Mark my words, you’ll be bleeding orange and black by the time the season is over.”

  “I just want to get to the World Series,” he said. “And I’ll do whatever I have to do to get there. Including rolling over the Dodgers.”

  J.T. grinned. “Can I quote you on that?”

  “You can tattoo it on your ass,” Matt shot back and then turned his attention up front where Morgan and Kelly still had their heads together.

  What the hell were they talking about?

  * * *

  Less than an hour later, Matt opened his hotel room door expecting room service and instead was surprised to find a stunning blonde on the other side. Since she wasn’t wearing much, and there was no service cart nearby, it was safe to assume she wasn’t on staff at the hotel. Her smile was suggestive. She wasn’t at his door for just an autograph.

  “Hi, Matt.” Her eyes bore into his in silent expectation. “You said to look you up the next time you were in Philly.”

  Christ. Did he know her? He searched his brain for some sort of recollection. She resembled a young Pamela Anderson, circa Baywatch, but he didn’t recognize her at all. That didn’t mean squat though—in the past year he’d been with a number of women. She could be—hell, she probably was—one of them.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  No. He wasn’t. But he didn’t want to be rude. Keeping one hand on the door he struggled in vain to remember her name but was coming up blank.

  “It’s late,” he said, glancing at his watch.

  “It’s not that late.” Undeterred, she cast him a sly smile. “Besides, after I get through with you, you’ll sleep like a baby,” she added, gazing at him with sexual confidence. She took a step forward; the floral scent of her perfume was so overpowering he had to fight the urge to step back. “Remember how relaxed you were the last time?”

  Again, that would be a no. He didn’t remember her, or having sex with her. But she obviously did, and now he was relatively certain he’d given her some sort of cock and bull line about seeing her again when his team rolled into Philly on the next road trip. He’d used that line a lot and never once meant it. The women he’d been with over the past year had been nothing more than a way for him to forget the hell that was his life. Not one of them had meant a damn thing. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but it was the truth.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” At the far end of the brightly lit hallway the elevator chimed its arrival. It was probably room service with his late supper.

  “Why not?”

  “Because...” He paused as he noticed she was wearing one of those necklaces that spelled out her name. Why would anyone wear their name around their neck? He didn’t get it, but it saved him from admitting he didn’t know who the hell she was. “Tiffany, I—” He broke off when he heard muffled footsteps on the carpeted hallway.

  He looked to his left just in time to see Kelly rounding the corner. She wore her standard work attire of pants and a blazer—today’s color was navy blue. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that swished from side to side as she walked. In one hand she clutched a tan leather tote bag, and in the other she held the key card for her room. The moment she saw Tiffany, in her micro mini skirt and halter top standing in front of his door, her mouth pressed into a grim line and a frown marred her forehead.

  Of course, she was thinking the worst. Not that he blamed her; his less than stellar behavior had been well documented. While some of the more salacious details had been exaggerated, the majority of them had been true and were the major reason he’d recently had a full physical and lab tests. He always wore a condom but, for his own peace of mind, he needed to know if his exploits over the past year had resulted in an STD. To his relief, they hadn’t.

  Somehow he had to get rid of Tiffany and let Kelly know he wasn’t carrying on like he had in L.A. He wasn’t sure why he cared what she thought, but he did.

  “Hey, baby,” he said, thinking fast as she approached. He brushed past a surprised Tiffany and moved toward Kelly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Kelly stopped short, one dark brow arching as she cast him an incredulous look. He stood in front of her, blocking her view of Tiffany. “What did you call me?” she asked in a low voice. “Because I think I just heard you call me baby.”

  “Can you play along, please?” he whispered. “I need to get rid of her.”

  “What’s the matter? Already have another groupie in your room?” Her eyes flickered with amusement. “What? You don’t want to make it a threesome?”

  Matt scowled. “I don’t do threesomes.”

  “Too bad. They’re fun,” she said and grinned when he was rendered speechless. She was kidding, right? She tilted her head to peer over his shoulder at Tiffany and gave her a quick once-over. “She looks like your type. Blonde and easy.” Looking back at him, she continued with a smirk, “I have washcloths larger than that skirt she’s wearing.”

  “Are you going to help me, or not?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “What do you want?”

  “You know what I want.” Her husky voice sounded suggestive, but that couldn’t be. He knew her well enough to know that what she wanted wasn’t him. “I’ll help you out with your little problem if you help me out with mine.” She held his gaze unflinchingly, just as she had that night in L.A.

  Damn it. She had him over a barrel. Unless he wanted to deal with Tiffany on his own. He didn’t—the last thing he needed was some scantily clad woman making a scene outside his hotel room. The press would have a field day with that.

  “What are your terms?”

  Triumph sparkled in her eyes. “I want you to start going to the media room after the games to answer questions from the press.”

  Son of a bitch. She was blackmailing him. He had to hand it to her, she was clever.

  “How about one interview?”

  “How about you get rid of what’s-her-name without my help?” Kelly replied sweetly.

  “Fine,” he gritted out. “But you’d better make this good.”

  “Kayla isn’t the only actress in the family.” She reached up and patted his cheek with her key card. “I’ve dabbled in the performing arts myself. I played Kate in Taming of the Shrew when I was in college.”

  “I can’t think of a better part for you,” he snapped. “Let’s get this over with.”

  * * *

  The dismissive look in the blonde’s eyes wasn’t anything Kelly hadn’t seen before. Only nowadays she didn’t care too much what anyone else thought about her appearance. Still, it rankled that this...this...Pamela Anderson wannabe had sized her up with one glance and immediately concluded she was no threat, and no competition.

  We’ll see about that.

  “Hello,” Kelly said as she and Matt halted in front of the blonde. She made note of the nameplate necklace. Somehow, the name fit. “I’m Kelly, and you must be Tiffany.”

  Tiffany’s perfectly made-up face turned suspicious. “How did you know that?”

  Was she serious? She was wearing that stupid necklace, or had she forgotten?

  “Matt told me all about you.” She felt him watching her but didn’t spare him a glance. Contrary to what she’d just told him, she couldn’t act
her way out of a paper bag. Kayla was the one with all the talent, not her. Her performance in Taming of the Shrew hadn’t been well received. But hell, Shakespeare was hard.

  Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Yes. Now that we’re together, Matt’s been totally honest about his past.”

  “Together? You’re with Matt?” Tiffany’s dumbfounded expression might have been funny if it wasn’t so insulting. Was it that much of a stretch that Matt could find her attractive? “Since when?”

  “A few months ago.” Turning her head, Kelly met Matt’s enigmatic eyes. He seemed content to let her do the talking. How typical. “We met in L.A. It was fireworks from the very beginning.” She looked back to find Tiffany’s disbelieving baby blues had zeroed in on Matt.

  “Is this true?”

  He nodded. “It was fireworks, all right. Major fireworks.”

  “And we’ve been together ever since.” Kelly suppressed a grin when Tiffany’s mouth gaped open.

  “I haven’t read anything about the two of you.” Tiffany’s skeptical gaze moved from Kelly to Matt.

  “We’re keeping a low profile,” he said quickly.

  “I can see why.” Tiffany’s sneer matched the tone of her voice.

  Kelly’s good humor evaporated. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not his type,” Tiffany said. “He’s not a chubby chaser.”

  Kelly’s blood started to boil. She gripped the handle of her tote and fought the urge to swing it at the bimbo’s smug and overly Botoxed face.

  “She’s exactly my type,” Matt said, surprising Kelly by sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her to his hard body. Her pulse kicked, an instant reaction to the masculine power he exuded so effortlessly. “I knew it the moment we met.”

  Tiffany let out an unladylike snort and crossed her arms over her well-endowed chest. Her gaze raked disdainfully down Kelly’s body. “Do you always dress like that?”

  Oh, she was going there, was she?

  Kelly returned the blonde’s rude stare with one of her own. “Yes. Do you always dress like that?”

  “Like what?” Tiffany’s tone was defensive.

 

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