by Roz Lee
Arriving home in the wee hours of the morning, she texted Tony Ramirez to let him know she wouldn’t be working with him until he returned to Dallas. She left off telling him she wasn’t sure they would continue even then. What did she have anyway? After weeks of working with the two players, she had a success she couldn’t tell anyone about and a briefcase full of charts and data on another player who seemed to be perfection on the field. There wasn’t a scientific researcher in the world who would say she had enough to warrant continued study.
***
Where the fuck is she? Royce pounded on Tricia’s hotel room door until a man in a neighboring room poked his head out and threatened to call security.
His life was back on track, and it was all because of Dr. Reed. Throughout the interviews following the game, he kept expecting her to show her face, but she never had. They’d discussed the reasons he couldn’t acknowledge her part in his comeback, if he ever got there, but still, he thought she would have wanted to be there with him, to share the triumph. How he got there would have to be their secret, but he still wanted her there.
Backtracking to the lobby, he approached the front desk. “I’m looking for Dr. Reed in room 1416. She’s not answering her door.” Royce drummed his fingers on the marble counter while the woman wearing a black hotel uniform and a brass pin that said, “Rhonda - Assistant Manager,” typed. Stopped to read. Typed some more. Every passing minute was another he wasn’t with Tricia.
“Dr. Reed checked out earlier this evening.”
Panic gripped his gut. She had to be here. She had to be. He needed her. “There must be some mistake. We’re here. The team is in town for three more days. Check again.”
The woman shook her head. “There’s no mistake, sir.”
“Did she give a reason? Was there something wrong with her room? Maybe she went to a different hotel.”
Rhonda’s eyes shifted from side to side as she scanned the computer screen in front of her. “That doesn’t appear to be the case, sir. No complaints were registered. Had there been a problem, we would have moved her to a different room.”
“Then, where the fuck is she?” There weren’t many people in the lobby, but it seemed every one of them froze at his outburst. Great. All he needed was for someone to post a video on the Internet of him going nuclear on a hapless hotel clerk hours after one of the best games of his career. He flattened his hands on the counter and stepped back an inch. Taking a deep breath then letting it out, he forced himself to appear calm on the outside. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. Please accept my apology.”
He couldn’t breathe. Acting like everything was fine when his insides were twisted in knots was going to asphyxiate him before he got back to his room. In the elevator, he closed his eyes and went through the mental exercises Tricia had taught him, only in reverse. He willed each muscle group to relax until the paralysis in his lungs eased. Making a scene in a five-star hotel in the middle of the night wouldn’t help him find Tricia.
Back in his room, he dug around in his game bag for his cell phone. Maybe she’d left him a message explaining her disappearance. He stared at the blank screen. Nothing. No messages. No missed calls. He dialed her number, pacing the room while the signal bounced from tower to satellite to tower, trying to locate her phone. When the connection went straight to voicemail, he swore under his breath.
“Patricia. It’s me, Royce. Where the…? Call me.”
He chucked the phone at the bed. It bounced once before landing on the floor with a thud. She would call. She would explain herself. She had to. He was dying inside. If anything happened to her…. No. That didn’t bear thinking about. It was late. She had simply changed hotels for whatever reason, and she’d be at the stadium tomorrow. He’d catch up with her then.
Suddenly, he was too tired to go on. The adrenaline he’d been running on had finally worked its way out of his system. He ached from head to toe—not an uncommon thing after hours of physical exertion followed by more time being the personality the media expected of him. Exhausted, he stripped and headed to the shower.
Hot water helped ease all the aches but one—the one he’d hoped to ease in Tricia’s arms. He missed her with an intensity he wouldn’t have thought possible. From the very first moment he met her, he’d told himself to stay away from her, but keeping his distance proved impossible. She was so damn sexy. He loved the dance of intelligence behind those blue eyes of hers, loved driving the brainy scientist to the point where she couldn’t form coherent sentences. Yeah, he loved her body and her mind, but he loved her heart more.
Ah, fuck.
Royce braced his hands on the shower wall and dipped his head, letting the water stream over his head and down his back. His balls hung heavy between his legs like ballast for his engorged cock.
When had he fallen in love with Tricia?
He thought back to their first meeting and the way she’d teased him about his aversion to blood tests. She hadn’t been intimidated or impressed by his status as a professional athlete. All she’d wanted from him had been his body. A groan rose from his chest. She’d gotten what she wanted. The stunt in the storage room, going down on her knees—she’d taken him by surprise then taken his clubhouse virginity.
Her passion for her job stuck a fork in his heart. When she’d explained about how her research could potentially help wounded soldiers and others with catastrophic injuries, he’d fallen hard.
Now that she’d accomplished her goal, gotten him back in the game, was she through with him? Had he been nothing more than a lab rat to her?
It wasn’t possible. There had been more between them than great sex and research. The way she’d responded to his touch, trusted him, gave her body and her orgasms even when he behaved like an ass. He’d never forget the night he took her to his house and spanked her. Fuck, she’d been magnificent, and he hadn’t done anything to deserve her trust.
What they had was real. He knew it, but did she? He’d never told her he loved her, and she hadn’t said the words to him, though her actions indicated deeper feelings. He’d only known her a short time, but he knew she didn’t sleep around. He hadn’t been her first, but her passionate responses had been sweet, as if she were discovering the wonders of sex for the first time.
He’d been in a state of semi-arousal ever since she placed her lips against his thighs earlier. After the game, anticipation of spending the rest of the night buried deep inside her had run in the back of his mind, fueling his need to get through the interviews as quickly as possible. He couldn’t deny his physical desire to be with her, not with his cock demanding attention, but besides his baser needs, he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to tell her how it felt to be back in the game, wanted to share his euphoria with the one person who knew what it had taken to get there. Tonight’s success was as much hers as it was his, even if they couldn’t tell anyone how it had come about.
Damn Hannah. If she hadn’t waylaid him, he might have gotten back to the hotel in time to stop Tricia from leaving.
He’d talk to her tomorrow, but waiting wasn’t going to work for him. He wanted to talk to her now—no, two hours ago—before his ex had waltzed in and stolen the glory from the evening.
But instead of holding Tricia in his arms, instead of kissing her, instead of sharing his triumph then making love to her, he was standing in a rapidly cooling shower, his hand wrapped around his dick, easing the pain the only way he could.
***
“Have you seen Dr. Reed?” Royce stopped Tony in the hallway outside the clubhouse door.
“Nah. I don’t think she’s here. She texted me last night, said she’d see me when we get back to Dallas.” He waved Royce away from the doorway. “We need to talk.”
He’d expected Tony to assume yesterday’s comeback had something to do with Tricia’s research, and he was prepared to lie through his teeth. The truth was, he wasn’t sure how much her scientific theory had to do with him getting back on track and how much of it he could attribute to just be
ing around her. Maybe what he’d needed wasn’t practical analysis, but to find a woman with a mind of her own to challenge him.
Tricia had helped him in both respects, he supposed. But she couldn’t do the same for every player. For her to be successful, her research had to stand alone, without emotional involvement. He had to convince Tony to continue in the program. He’d seen the two of them together. There were no sparks between them. The way it should be. It was just his fortune, good or bad that the two of them struck like flint from the very beginning.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Strikeout. I’m as happy as anyone on the team to have you back, but if Dr. Reed had anything to do with it, then we have a problem.”
“She didn’t. Trust me. I’ve been in a funk, you know, since Hannah left me. It just took me a while to get my head screwed back on right.”
The center fielder’s gaze remained steady, as if deciding whether he believed Royce’s story or not. He called on his years of appearing calm and cool under pressure to keep from squirming under his friend’s scrutiny. “You wouldn’t lie to protect her, would you, Royce?”
“Would you lie to protect Clare?”
Tony wasn’t stupid. He understood where Royce was going, dodging the question with one of his own. “Like a rug, my friend. Like a rug.”
“Then don’t ask me again. In the meantime, you continue with the program. She might have something, but we’ll never know if we pull the plug on her research now.”
“I don’t like it, but I’ll let her put those things on me for a while longer so she can get the data she needs. To tell you the truth, I don’t see how it will do any good.”
“If you’re asking me, you’ve got the wrong person. I majored in marketing. When she starts spouting scientific jargon, my eyes glaze over.”
Tony laughed. “My eyes glaze over, yours dilate. Big words turn you on. Don’t deny it. I’ve seen it.”
Royce chuckled. “Can’t deny she’s sexy as hell.” He pinned the bigger man with a death stare. “She’s mine, and don’t you forget it.”
“Or what? You’ll beat me up?” Tony’s smile took the edge off his words.
“No, I’ll tell Clare.”
Hand over his heart as if he’d been mortally wounded, the center fielder staggered backward. “Ouch. You don’t play fair, do you?”
“Not where Tricia is concerned. Keep your hands to yourself.” He jabbed his index finger toward his teammate. “You’ve been warned.”
“Okay, okay. I get the message. I’m in for now. Good game yesterday. I don’t give a shit how it came about, as long as it did.” With a wave, Tony headed toward the clubhouse door once more. “Gotta go. Some of us have to play every game.”
***
Sitting in the bullpen with nothing to do but watch the game, Royce had plenty of time to think. After trying several times to call Tricia, and all the attempts going straight to voicemail, he gave up on trying to reach her by phone. He’d asked the few people who knew of her association with the team, and none of them had seen her. Her absence, along with the message she left for Tony, led him to believe she had returned to Dallas. But, why?
It was frustrating, thinking of her so far away, and he had no way to contact her. What was she thinking? Did she have data linking his recovery to her work, and if so, was it something she could make public?
He doubted anything had changed in that regard, so there was no need to tell her team management had sent him to spy on her. The less she knew about his double role, the better.
After yesterday’s performance, he was certain it was only a matter of time before Doyle got around to asking him if Dr. Reed’s research contributed to his comeback. Telling Doyle the truth wasn’t an option. His best bet was to be noncommittal. He could say taking part in the project had forced him to pay attention to his mechanics, which was true, and as far as he was concerned, her project had little or no merit on a larger scale.
Throwing Tricia under the bus wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he had little choice. Telling Doyle her research was worthless would do less harm than admitting his comeback was based on data collected while receiving a blow job. Either way, Tricia wasn’t going to be happy about his report.
“Holy shit!” Jeff Holder jumped up. Royce, along with the other pitchers in the bullpen joined the Mustangs’ closer at the fence. “Did you see that catch?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Royce was in time to see Ramirez pop to his feet and make a throw to home plate. The runner on third base tagged up on the fly ball then made a break for home plate. He’d seriously underestimated the center fielder’s throwing ability. The player slid toward home. Jason fielded the perfect throw from his teammate, tagging the runner out smoothly.
Cheers rose all around him for the incredible double play to end the inning.
“Man, that guy is good.”
“He’s saved my ass a few times, too.”
“Glad he’s on our team now.”
Comments and praise flew as the pitchers returned to their seats. Royce remained at the fence, watching Tony walk, not run, to the dugout. A trickle of unease ran along his spine. Had the man been injured making the play? Or was he just savoring the memory with a slow walk off the field? Ramirez was one of their best players, offensively and defensively. Taking him out of the lineup would hurt the team.
Tony’s run-saving catch replayed on the jumbo screen. It was one of those amazing plays sportscasters around the country would remark on for years to come, but if Tony was injured on the play, the price of the runs saved was way too high.
Royce’s suspicions became certainty when a rookie, fresh up from the Minor League, stepped in to bat for Tony in the next inning. With a little luck, whatever was ailing the veteran player was something a good massage could cure, but Royce’s gut told him otherwise. There had been something telling in the man’s posture when he left the field earlier. The pitchers surrounding him were a quiet lot as they contemplated what losing Tony Ramirez meant to their individual Earned Run averages. The uninformed believed outfielders were nothing more than extras on the field, but every pitcher knew those three men were the last line of defense. Because they had so much ground to cover, outfielders had to be the fastest, and the strongest players on the team, and able to remain focused for nine innings while being far removed from most of the action.
Everyone, including Royce, glanced at Tony’s locker as they filed into the clubhouse, following their win against the Anglers. Word had traveled fast once he’d left the game. He’d pulled something in his arm or shoulder. No one knew the details, but the news quelled the usual exuberance following a win. Conversations were hushed, smiles were rare and didn’t make it to the eyes.
Royce had just slipped his suit coat on when Tony joined them in the locker room. He was still in uniform, minus his cleats and cap. A sling supported his right arm. Not good.
“Hey, man. What did you do?” He gestured to Tony’s injured arm as everyone began to gather around their friend and teammate.
“I have no idea.” Frustration laced the center fielder’s words. “One minute I was fine, the next, I wasn’t. Hurts like a son of a bitch, I can tell you that.”
Condolences came from all around. “Thanks,” he said, waving his good hand. “I’ll know more once I see the doctors back home.”
“You need help packing up?” Without waiting for an answer, Royce grabbed Tony’s duffle bag from the top shelf and began stuffing things inside. The sooner they got Tony back to Dallas, the better.
“Hey, leave my civvies out. I still gotta get out of my uniform.”
“They’re sending you back tonight, aren’t they?”
“Yeah. There’s a car waiting to take me to the airport. Can you help me get out of this?” Tony made an awkward attempt to free himself from the sling. “I need a shower.”
“Hold still and I’ll help you. It’s not as complicated as it looks.” Royce ea
sed the strap over his head. “Call Tricia when you get home. This is the kind of shit her program is supposed to help with, for real. It wouldn’t hurt to consult with her.”
“I was thinking the same thing. You know how I feel about her research, but I saw what she did for you. It made me stop and think.”
“I’m not sure she did anything but help me get my head screwed on right, but your situation is different than mine. She might actually be able to help you.”
“Why don’t you come with me? You’re supposed to go back tomorrow anyway, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. I’m pitching the first game of our home stand.” If he played his cards right, he’d have an excuse to see Tricia. “Take me with you when you see her.”
Tony raised one eyebrow. “I thought you two were tight.”
“Were. Past tense. She isn’t answering my calls.”
“I’m heading to the shower. If you can get a ticket on my flight, you can come along.”
***
She hadn’t expected the call in the middle of the night from Tony Ramirez. He was on his way back to Dallas to see a specialist, but he wanted to talk to her first. As she waited for him to arrive, she paced her small living room. With the team out of town, getting into the stadium would have been a challenge, so she’d invited him to her place instead.
Taking the red-eye from the West Coast, he was coming straight from the airport. While she waited, she put on a pot of coffee, as much for herself as for her early morning guest. She’d been up late, going over all the data she had from Tony, focusing specifically on the muscles in his right arm and shoulder area. According to him, the trainers and the doctor who traveled with the team didn’t have a clue what was wrong. An MRI hadn’t shown anything, yet his pain was real.
Her doorbell rang as she finished her first cup of the jolting brew. Setting her mug down on the short bar separating the kitchen from the living room, she made her way to the door.