by Alexis Anne
Why, oh why, did he have to be so charming? And nice? And sexy? And, even more importantly, why was I standing here talking to him when I should be walking away?
“I like the hat.” He touched my brim with his index finger. “Some girls look like they’re hiding a bad hair day under a hat, but you make it look . . . ” His voice trailed away and his eyes widened. He pulled back—just a fraction of inch—and blinked several times. Then he cleared his throat. “I mean, you make it work. Like it’s an accessory or something. Like earrings.”
What was he going to say that made him so uncomfortable? Was he going to say I was sexy?
My heart started beating faster. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well. All in the interest of building our own bridge.” He shrugged his broad shoulders and glanced away.
I felt the loss of his attention immediately and wanted it back so desperately I had to fight back the urge to jump in front of him so he had no choice but to look at me. “That’s why I wear it. Coach thought it would help me stay anonymous.”
“You could never be anonymous,” he said quickly, then closed his eyes like he regretted saying it at all. “I mean, you stand out in a crowd. A hat could never hide that.” He turned back and smiled at me tightly. “And you should never try to.”
His words made me feel all warm a gooey inside. They were a compliment. A wonderful compliment, even if it did come out awkward and unexpectedly.
And maybe that was why it felt so genuine.
“Thank you, Roman.”
He searched my entire face and sighed. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m not trying to hide myself.” For some reason I felt like I needed to explain—which made no sense whatsoever. “I—I need this internship. And if the reporters recognize me I’ll lose it.”
“That’s not fair.” His jaw ticked.
“I appreciate that, but it is what it is. You know as well as I do that they’ll turn this into a story and that, of the two of us, you’re the important one on this team.”
His jaw ticked again. “You really want to work in Major League Baseball? After everything we’ve grown up with?”
It was such a strange statement coming from someone in exactly the same position, and that made me even more curious about the mystery that was Roman St. James. I kept getting the impression there was a lot hidden beneath his surface and that he might be even more complicated than I was. “You’re here, too.”
His jaw tightened and he looked up at Wes who was about to throw down his arms to start the game. “I wasn’t ever given a different option.”
Just as he finished that sentence Wes yelled, “Go!” The crowd erupted into a deafening cheer.
Outside the wheelbarrow race took off. It was awkward but hilarious watching them slide across the grass. When they reached the finish line the baseball players high-fived the beer holders who ran inside to the cheerleaders. As the basketball players lifted the cheerleaders the crowd pushed forward and I lost my balance.
That was when Roman reached out to my waist to steady me.
I sucked in a gasp. His hand was so large and warm. His index finger pressed into my bare skin just above my jeans and from that point outward my entire body seemed to be on fire.
He didn’t remove his hand after I got my balance. He pressed even closer until our bodies were melded together and he squeezed my hip. Intellectually I knew the crowd was pushing everyone together and it was probably easier to keep from falling on top of me, but part of me hoped that he wanted to touch me. That he kept his hand on my hip because, like he said on the bus the week before, he felt that same zing of excitement every time we touched.
I didn’t move either. I stood frozen, not watching the game taking place in front of us. It was as if I wasn’t even there anymore. Instead Roman and I had been sucked into a vortex. Just the two of us alone, touching and feeling.
And then, just when I’d convinced myself that everything was happening in my head, his finger and thumb grazed higher, caressing my skin.
And I knew it was intentional. Using only my eyes I glanced to my right and watched. He wasn’t breathing. The pulse in his neck throbbed just as fast as I knew mine was. And then . . . a very slow, very deep breath.
The dominoes fell in a wave in front of us.
The guys jumped down into handstands as the crowd cheered, “Chug! Chug! Chug!”
Still, neither of us moved or said a word, and for a few brief moments I wondered what would happen if that touch turned into more. A kiss? A night? What would really and truly happen if I pressed my lips against his? The world wouldn’t end. No one would die. Would it really be all that horrible if he kissed me back? Slid his tongue along mine and pulled my hips against his?
If two fingers could make me feel this way then a kiss surely wouldn’t be enough. We could fall into bed. But then what? We obviously had chemistry but that was only one element. I already knew I liked his personality and enjoyed talking to him. What if falling into bed led to falling for all of him?
Now that—that was the problem. No one would die from a kiss but we both knew if we tried anything more that someone could physically wind up hurt. Our parents couldn’t be in the same room without devolving into punching and screaming, busting knees and blinding eyes. Pain was a very real possibility if I let myself fall for Roman.
And at the rate I was going? I might get hurt, too. I would be lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge the way I craved his attention. I looked forward to our sessions simply so I could hear him talk. Or watch me. God, how I loved it when he simply sat and watched me. I could fall for him without even trying.
As the keg stand ended and the crowd started to break up, Roman squeezed my hip one last time before letting me go. I hated that he let me go and I had to fight the urge to reach out to his collar, grab it up in my fist, and yank his lips down onto mine.
That would be crazy, right?
Right?
“You okay?” he asked tentatively.
I nodded slowly. Was I okay? The correct answer was no, I was not okay. I wasn’t the same person I’d been five minutes ago. “I’m good.”
He searched my eyes, then gave me a tight nod. “Can I get you a drink? Please?”
And because I didn’t want to leave him I said, “Yes.”
His cheeks brightened almost as much as his eyes as he turned toward the line at the kegs. I waited silently behind him, stupidly hoping that the color in his cheeks meant he liked me.
He handed me a red solo cup half full of whatever cheap beer was being served and nodded toward the yard. “Talk for a minute?”
Talk about what? That he’d held me? That I’d let him? That even a kiss was a terrible idea even if we both wanted it? “Sure.”
One day I knew without a doubt I’d look back on this night and want to slap myself, and yet I followed this man I shouldn’t be attracted to out into a dark yard, into a dimly lit corner, and sat in a mildew-covered lawn chair with the ridiculous hope we’d kiss.
I was so stupid.
“So, here’s the thing,” he said between sips. “I never wanted to play baseball. I was already playing by the time I knew what a bat was. It’s what I’ve always done and there was no other option. Not ever.” He leaned forward on his knees so that we were only inches apart, and looked up at me. “That’s why I’m here. My options weren’t to play or not to play, they were play for the Gators or the Noles.”
I should have realized that, really I should have, but I was allowed to wander from one school to another, testing out major after major. It hadn’t really occurred to me that Roman might not have had a say in his baseball career. “And you picked the Gators because of Coach Williams?”
He nodded. “Exactly. I liked him from the moment we met. I knew I could be me here.”
“You should be you everywhere.”
He stared at me long and hard. “I like that you can say that without regret.”
I stared back just as intensely,
craving so much more from this man I barely knew. “Is that why you hesitated? When you were complimenting my hat?”
“I wasn’t complimenting your hat.” His voice dropped to a deep, seductive whisper. “I was trying to tell you that I think you’re beautiful.”
My heart skipped a beat and then pounded in triple time. Roman thought I was beautiful? “And here I thought you were going to say you thought I was sexy.”
His breath caught. “I was.”
A boldness I’d never known before filled my chest. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because,” he looked at me so intently, so deeply, I could feel him everywhere, “you said you didn’t feel this.”
“I lied.” The words left my lips without a second thought.
“Is that so?” His tongue darted out and moistened his lower lip.
I let my gaze drop to that lip and desperately wondered what would happen if I did the same thing. Would he tense? Kiss me? Would the apocalypse begin? “It seems like a bad idea to admit I feel anything but hate for you.”
He moved closer. At least he seemed closer. “You don’t hate me.”
“No,” I whispered back. “I don’t.”
“You feel it, then? This?” He reached out and lightly ran his fingertips over the inside of my wrist.
I gasped as his touch made my mind go completely, blissfully blank.
“Oh God . . . ” he murmured, taking my hand and running his thumb along the veins on my inner wrist. I felt everything he was doing on my wrist mimicked inside me.
“Roman!” Wes’s voice rang out loud and very clearly blitzed.
“Fuck,” Roman groaned, dropping my wrist. Then he leapt up and moved between me and Wes, protecting me from his friend’s line of sight. “Over here.”
“Dude. What are you doing out here?” he slurred. “You banging a girl?”
Roman groaned with frustration, running his hand through his hair. “No, I’m not. How drunk are you?”
“Not drunk enough. Not yet.”
“I think you might be.”
“Nope. I can still stand and my goal tonight was either to get laid or pass out and since none of these women seemed charmed by me, I’m going to have to pass the fuck out.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Maybe we can head home and finish off that bottle of Jack? That way I don’t have to carry you to bed,” Roman offered.
“Thanks, but no. There’s still one perfect chance I can get laid. Come to the kitchen with me. I have two very hot, very eager young women who enjoy baseball players.”
Roman groaned again.
“Please?” Wes whined.
“Fine. I’ll be right there.”
“Nope.” Wes stumbled from the porch and into Roman’s arms. I tried to duck into the shadows but Roman caught him and turned him back toward the house before Wes knew what was happening. “You’re like an acrobat.”
“Or a babysitter,” he muttered as he led them back inside.
I sat there staring at my hands. Only a minute ago Roman had been touching them. Touching them and telling me I was beautiful. I’d never felt so alive and turned on at the same time. Why did the first person who turned my world upside down also have to be the worst person to pursue? Maybe it was fate that Wes interrupted us before anything could happen. Making an impulsive, hormonal decision at a party wasn’t a smart way to approach what could potentially be a disaster.
It was probably better that I take this opportunity to leave. I dumped my bad beer and made my way inside to find my purse. Roman was leaned up against the kitchen cabinets smiling and laughing with a very pretty blonde while Wes did a very bad job of flirting with her friend. It should have made me mad or jealous or something to see him flirting with another girl when only moments ago he’d been with me, but it didn’t.
It didn’t because he wasn’t looking at her the way he looked at me. He was smiling and flirting out of politeness. His eyes were shining and bright and his smile was genuine, but there was nothing deeper there.
When he looked at me, he looked with hunger. With depth. With need. When he looked at me he never looked away and searched the room the way he was now.
I stopped and waited. It only took a moment. When our eyes collided across that room everything stopped, just like it had when he touched me. Our gazes locked and a split second later there it was—that warmth they always seemed to take on when he was looking at me.
I melted just a little bit.
Then I saluted him and cocked my head toward the front door. “Good night,” I mouthed.
His shoulders tensed and his look switched from warmth to yearning. He followed me all the way to the door with his eyes before he finally saluted back. It was a sad gesture.
After I closed the door I snuck around to the window. I knew the lights and glare made it look like a mirror on the inside so he wouldn’t be able to see me standing there. I watched him smile and laugh, then help Wes to the bathroom.
And never, not once, in all that time did he ever look at the blonde the way he looked at me.
7
Present day, Eve’s house
I t was a strange combination of fate that brought Mom to Tampa on a day without a game and both her daughters home for the night. Of course she was used to having her schedule dictated by the baseball season so perhaps she planned it that way on purpose. She was Mom and there was a fine line between coincidence and purpose, in my experience.
“I saw Carrie before the meeting. She looked excited,” I offered over a glass of wine. There was a cheese spread of five different varieties, along with fruit and crackers, in the middle of the kitchen counter. We were all hanging out while Jake grilled on the back porch with Greg Hamilton, his best friend, and the kids, Max and Sam, were swimming in the pool.
“I’m so glad you introduced us, June. She has an excellent head for business. She’s been a breath of fresh air.”
Carrie loved art and she knew most of the movers and shakers in Tampa Bay. She knew exactly who to charm, who to squeeze, and who to avoid. She was, in many ways, the extroverted version of my mother. Mom was a famous artist and Carrie was a famous orthopedic surgeon who, I’d been told, was very much an artist of the human anatomy. It’s why she did so well with elite athletes like my players. She could reconstruct ACL’s and repair flaws like no one I’d ever had the privilege of meeting.
But where Mom was quiet and reserved, Carrie was loud. She slid herself into conversations as if she’d always been meant to be part of the discussion. She made friends with everyone, but unlike some people who lived life out loud, she was also kind and generous.
“I knew the minute she started talking about your art museum that it was a match made in heaven,” I said.
Mom loved the Shay Gallery of Art and History. She’d taken it on as a charity case in their final hours of need and turned it into one of the most prestigious art centers on the Eastern seaboard.
“Yes, well, you were right.” She smiled as she popped a piece of cheese into her mouth. “It’s rare to find someone so full of life that doesn’t also cast a shadow on everyone around her. She’s a good egg.”
Mom was very particular about who she spent her time with. Sure, most artists were a bit eccentric, some even reclusive, but for my mom, it was strategy. She had been burned a long time ago by a friend, and it changed her.
Heck, it changed all of us.
Some might even say it was a major contributing factor to the war that erupted between George and Dad. Their fight was the final straw—the most public and fascinating to the press—but it didn’t start with them.
Oh no. It started with Mom and Cecil.
“Are you staying the night?” I asked.
“Yes. Zoe needed a day off and I happened to be in town so it works out perfectly. I’ll get the girls to school, grab an early lunch with cousin Susan, and then hit the road long before the evening rush hours clog things up.”
“Zoe has a big day tomorrow.” I gri
nned across the room.
Zoe turned pink with embarrassment.
“Oh really?” Mom turned, cocking her head in question.
When Zoe stayed frozen like a statue I decided to brag on my friend’s behalf. “Zoe has landed a pretty major three book deal. Her agent is in town and they are going out to celebrate. And then we’re going out to celebrate!” I waved my hand between the two of us.
“Congratulations, Zoe! This is huge!” Mom rushed over and gave her a hug. “Have I told you about the first time I sold a painting for five figures?” She gently guided Zoe into the living room and talked her ear off about women artists making money and being successful, which I was thrilled with because sometimes Zoe fell into the imposter syndrome trap of believing she didn’t deserve all the success that was starting to come her way. She deserved every single bit of it and more.
I was just about to slip outside and talk to the guys when I caught sight of Marie leaving the bathroom.
Perfect.
“Hey you.” I tried to sound as casual as I could possibly muster under the circumstances. She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and I didn’t want to spook her before it was time.
“Hello,” she smiled brightly. Marie had been a good friend of Eve’s until she married Jake’s best friend, Greg. Now she was much more than a friend. She was family.
A big, fat, lying member of my family. I gently grabbed her by the elbow and guided her towards the stairs. “I believe you and I have a few things to discuss.”
She made a totally guilty sounding chirp in the back of her throat. “Discuss?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you know exactly what I’m talking about.” We turned at the landing and hurried up the last few steps to the second floor. “What I don’t know is why you kept a secret this huge from me.” I pushed open the playroom door and yanked her inside.
She didn’t say a word until I’d shut the door and flipped the lock.
Then she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “I assume you’re referring to Roman? He said things went quietly with Wes.”
“See, this is what I don’t get. You’re standing there talking as if this isn’t a huge fucking deal. Oh, Wes and Roman, all is fine in the world.”