Nick settled his mind to one thought. There was nothing to do but move on. It would be the only way to save his sanity.
***
Weeks later, with no word from Nick, Jenna found herself in the kitchen preparing a garlic/basil sauce to take to the café.
The quiet in the house was driving her crazy, so Jenna decided to turn on the big screen to a local morning show. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she heard that snow was in the forecast for Brooklyn, rush hour traffic was a mess going toward the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, bridges were backed up in the early morning rush hour, the usual morning fare.
She entered the living room just as the on air sports reporter announced that baseball spring training had commenced, with pitchers and catchers reporting to team camps in Florida.
Jenna wondered if Nick had reported to camp. She'd texted him several times for weeks, but he hadn’t answered her. She really hadn’t expected him to. Tears blurred her vision, and Jenna swiped at them with the back of her hand, wishing she'd told him the truth, wishing he'd forgiven her, hoping that someday he'd find it in his heart for forgive her.
***
Orlando Stadium, Orlando, Florida
Pitchers and Catchers –California Condors Spring Training Camp
Day Three
"Pitching arms looks good, Dante. Looks like the shoulder surgery did the job."
Nick nodded and repeatedly threw a ball into his mitt as he stood in the dugout with Condors Manager Dickie Wilson after the workout on the field in Orlando.
"Your fast ball is right across the plate and your knuckleball looks better than I've ever seen it. You keep throwing strikes like that and I'll start you next week in our first exhibition game."
Just the news Nick wanted to hear. He could play ball again, resume his career, and life in California. It was great to see his teammates again after winter in New York.
"Thanks coach. I needed to hear that."
But not for the reason you think.
He entered the clubhouse, made small talk with his teammates then walked into the training room, and stepped into the warm comfort of the whirlpool, moaning with relief when his shoulder eased into the wonderful heated water.
Leaning back, Nick closed his eyes and allowed the heavy flow of the water do its job. His thoughts were not of baseball but of Jenna. Since he'd returned to California, his heart and soul cried out for her, his body ached every night for her touch, her heat.
He loved baseball. It had given him fame, fortune, cars, women.
But he had no wife, no permanent home, no children. There was a hole in his heart that wouldn’t be filled unless Jenna was in his life.
He could help the team win the pennant this season if his shoulder stayed strong.
He looked around him. Alone in the club room, he was an athlete in the prime of his life. No matter what happened all those years ago, Jenna should have called him, demanded that he come to her in Italy and share her grief.
But he remembered saying to her at that time that nothing would keep him from playing baseball, nothing. In the end, their lives became a double edged sword. Nick knew that he, too, was to blame. Jenna had taken him at his word, and they'd lost having a life together.
What do you want now? What was most important? His mind repeated like a mantra over and over. Each rush of the whirlpool seemed to echo his words.
He wanted his wife. And he wanted her now. It was time to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life, her life.
And in the end, Nick Dante knew, it would be the right one.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jenna sat on the tile floor of the bathroom, her stomach emptied of all she'd eaten that evening. Tears streaming down her face, she was alternately joyous and sad.
Reaching toward the vanity to retrieve the white pregnancy stick that showed a pink plus sign, she stood, rinsed out her mouth with strong mouth wash, and nearly gagged again.
Padding to her bedroom, she walked toward the boxes in her closet and saw Nick's college jersey strewn on the floor. She lifted it and shrugged it on, skimming her palm down her stomach, to the tiny being that now rested there.
"Don't worry, sweetheart, we're going to be ok, I promise."
Straightening and brushing her hair over her shoulder, she retrieved her cell phone from her bag and instantly left a message on Nick's cell phone. She'd been trying to get him all day to tell him the news. Whether he forgave her or not, Jenna knew with her heart and soul, that Nick would never abandon their child.
She turned off her phone, her stomach still a bit queasy, and decided to take a nap.
The next thing she knew she was being jostled by Gracie. "Jen, wake up, come see the TV. John just called and said we have to watch Sports Scene."
Jenna opened her eyes, felt her hair sticking to her cheek and pushed it way. How long had she slept?
"What's going on?" she yawned, as Gracie stepped into the living room, barefoot and wearing Nick's jersey. "I would have to guess it's about Nicky."
Grace grabbed the remote, turned to Sports Scene, then held Jenna's hand. "Feel better?"
Jenna smiled. "Yes, thanks, the nap helped."
"I made homemade chicken soup."
Before Jenna could thank Grace for her thoughtfulness, her heart fluttered and blood rushed through her veins, pounding like a hammer. Her hands shook slightly, when she saw Nick in a suit and tie, looking like a cover model.
He was so beautiful. I love him so much.
"Put up the volume, Gracie."
And then they heard the newscaster.
"…Today, Nick Dante, star pitcher of the California Condors, suddenly announced his retirement. Dante stated that even with the off-season surgery he had in late October, his shoulder just didn’t feel right in spring training camp. He made a live statement early this morning in Orlando. This is a sad day in sports. Again, Nick Dante, star pitcher for the California Condors, has announced his retirement…"
Jenna sat on the couch, stunned. "Retired? That can't be true. His shoulder was in great shape. It was perfect."
Gracie shrugged. "Shh, Nick's going to make a statement."
Jenna sat frozen. Nick stepped up to the microphone, cleared his voice. His eyes were red and his mouth fixed in a sad frown.
"…It is with great regret and sadness that I announce my retirement," his voice cracked. "My shoulder did not heal as it should have, and the last thing I want to do is hurt the club and my teammates if I'm not 110 percent. Retiring today allows me to walk away from the game with pride, rather than having the game walk away from me. Thanks to all my fans, friends and family for their support through the years…"
The doorbell rang and Grace touched Jenna's shoulder. "John said he'd stop by. I'll be right back."
Jenna nodded, as if in a fog. "What the hell is going on with him?"
She was in the same position a few minutes later when she heard the footsteps behind her entering the room. "Is it John?"
"No, it's your husband."
Nick.
Jenna turned and jumped from the sofa. "Nicky, what are you doing here? Why did you retire? Did you injure your shoulder again? Why did you…"
He approached her and put his finger against her lips. "One thing at a time. First of all, why do you look so tired? Your eyes are red. Are you getting enough sleep? Am I the reason for this?"
Jenna felt so sorry for him. She threw her arms around his neck. "I'm fine now. I'm so glad you're here. I've missed you so much. Why are you here?"
He circled her hips and brought her body close to his. "Because I want to be here, I love you, I want you; I want a life with you."
"But you can still play baseball. I'll move to California. I'll do anything to be with you, Nico. I love you so much."
"Love you too, Red. Now kiss me and hold me ok?"
Their lips fused and warmth ran through Jenna's body. She opened her mouth to his insistent tongue and gave him everything she had. Nico was home.
The kiss ended, she leaned back. "Do you forgive me? I'm so sorry I pushed you away. I hope one day you can understand why I did…"
He silenced her with another kiss.
They just held each other for long moments. Jenna inhaled the clean, familiar scent of him. "I have something to show you."
Nick grabbed her hips and pressed her into his obvious erection. "Ah, I was just going to say the same thing." He wiggled his eyebrows, making her laugh. It felt good to laugh and smile again.
"Seriously, Nico, you can't retire."
He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. "Look, I've had a great time. Played ball for a great team. I have money, cars, fame, but it all means nothing without you, Red. I have to go back to California to take care of business, so why don’t you come with me? We'll leave John and Grace in charge of the café, and get married again, have a real honeymoon. Wherever you want to go, ok, Red?"
"Anywhere Nico, but first, come with me."
He grabbed her hand and she led him to the bathroom where Nick was obviously surprised she hadn’t led him to the bedroom. But first things first.
"Sit down, I want to show you something."
"Are we taking a shower?" he quipped.
She reached around him and held a long white stick in her hand. Presenting it to him, she whispered, "No secrets, no lies, just you and me and this."
When he saw what she held out to him, a single tear slid down his clean shaven, handsome face.
"Really, Jen?" He took her in his arms and held the stick. "We're getting a second chance, baby. I love you."
"I love you more. Nico, I've made some bad choices over the years, but I promise to make it up to you and make you happy for the rest of our lives. Welcome home."
Then Jenna sealed her welcome home gift to him with another deep soul stirring kiss that proved that this time she was playing for keeps.
THE END
Body Check
CHAPTER ONE
Mid-town Manhattan, early March
Hot Shots Sports Bar
"So what do you say, gorgeous? Will you be my date for the team's dinner dance and fundraiser?"
Mia Sinclair turned toward that sexy male voice, and shook her head. Quinn Rafferty, handsome goaltender for the New York Thunder, nicknamed, 'The Mighty Quinn' by fans, straddled the chair closest to her and gracefully eased in. His scent, a sinful mix of spice and perfectly toned athlete, never failed to make her sit up and take notice. Those sexy blue bedroom eyes, indisputable charm, curly collar length ink black hair and dressed in a designer suit fit for a GQ model, he looked more like a Wall Street stock broker than a hockey player.
Mia attempted to focus on her glass of wine, but there hadn’t been a drink concocted that could match the potency level equal to the powerhouse that was Quinn Rafferty.
Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze, a sparkling blue eyed look, filled with playful seduction. "Look, Q, you're a great guy and you certainly are tenacious. But I told you before, since I'm the public relations director for the Thunder, it's probably not a good idea that we date."
Before he could reply, she added. "Oh and there's that tiny detail that may prove a deterrent."
"And what would that be?"
"Ah, the fact that my father is general manager of the team."
That charming smile of his turned upside down, fast. "Ah, playing the boss's daughter angle again. You don’t fool me, Mia. I've been asking you to go out with me for a long time. Please don't use your father as an excuse. If I didn’t know better, I'd think you were just looking for an out."
Mia frowned. Trying to get through to Quinn was like attempting to get through brick with a feather.
"We've been through this a hundred times, Q," she said. "We shouldn’t mix business with pleasure. It's just the way it is. And we're friends, good friends aren't we?" She heard herself ask the question, but wasn’t sure if she believed her own words.
But she could see there was no getting one over on Quinn. Instead of taking rejection graciously, he slid closer to her, lowering his voice so no one around would hear. "Look, we've known each other for the better part of two seasons. You've got to know that you've been driving me crazy for a long time. And I know what you've been through with that asshole, Andre. But he's gone and I want you to know I'm still here, waiting, wanting to touch you, kiss you."
Quinn's words touched her more than he would ever know. She swallowed hard, her heart aching from his closeness. For months Quinn's attempts for them to be together had failed miserably. Mia cared about him a lot, but she wasn’t about to break her own rule of dating a hockey player. And in her case, another hockey player. Been there, done that.
"Please Quinn, I'm not ready."
"Can you really say that to me after knowing me for nearly two years? Just say the word and we'll go to my place and change our 'friendship' status, and let me point out, you're the one who put the label on our so called friendship. I don’t have a problem being friends and lovers." He shrugged. "Come with me to the dinner dance, and we can see where this all goes. I'm not going away, Mia, mine. What do you say?"
He called her 'Mia, mine' when he poured on the charm, and it was dripping now like maple syrup. She couldn’t help but laugh at his blatant persuasiveness. "Does the word 'no' even exist in your vocabulary?"
Quinn took a long pull of beer, then shook his head. "That's not the word, or the answer, I was looking for." He sat there looking smug and cover athlete model handsome in Hugo Boss. Lifting her hand, he pressed his lips to her warm flesh. She had to admit that Quinn sparked something inside her, and it wasn’t the alcohol in her drink.
She attempted to gently extract her hand from his, but it only served to make him more determined. He squeezed tighter, and brought both hands under his suit jacket, over his chest, where his heart pounded against her palms.
"Feel that?" he leaned in to whisper, his warm mouth touching her ear, his breath moving tiny strands of her hair.
"That's what you do to me, day in and day out. Don’t look at me like that," he breathed. "It makes me want to kiss the hell out of you in front of everyone."
Her body trembled at his words as she slipped her hands from his, immediately missing his touch. She cared for Quinn but would never admit it, her bed was off limits. Her breasts swelled when he talked about kissing her. She secretly loved his game of pursuit, and adored the way his killer dimples flashed when those blue eyes of his darkened with desire and focused on her. Yet her heart deeply conflicted with common sense.
"Stop pushing me, Quinn. In case you haven’t noticed, I work for the team, namely my father, and I've just gotten out of a pretty tough relationship. I'm not ready, so please, give me some room, ok?"
But the brick wall didn’t give an inch. "Come home with me, Mia. I know you want to. You know you want to."
Mia was amazed at how well Quinn knew her. All her denials didn’t faze him in the least. He knew she liked him. But even if she wanted to go home with him, it wasn’t going to happen now. Was he just playing with her? Quinn was a champion jokester and perennial fun loving guy. Mia couldn’t help but smile at his persuasive abilities, but before she could answer him, she felt a tingle run up her spine.
Her heart fell to the floor when she looked across at the entrance to the bar, at the suddenly silent room, and saw her father enter the crowded establishment.
Players looked up from the pool table, others turned from watching the television, and still others ceased conversation in mid-sentence. The boss was here.
CHAPTER TWO
Mia automatically straightened as her father's dark eyes focused, searching the room as if looking for someone. That someone was her.
J. P. Sinclair's dark, almost hawk-like gaze zeroed in on her and Quinn as though he'd found the enemy in his sights, and was about to fire some imaginary weapon right through their eyes.
Quinn merely returned the old man's gaze, as if challenging him. Oh shit, Mia thought, it's going to hit the fa
n now.
Before Mia could shift her position so her father wouldn’t see her sitting so close to Quinn, he brought his arm across the back of her chair, essentially trapping her. Quinn didn’t seem fazed in the least by the old man's intimidating manner and 'if looks could kill' gaze.
It really didn’t amaze Mia that Quinn was so cocky. One, he was a goaltender. Hell, you had to be either crazy or fearless to be a goaltender. Maybe Quinn was a little bit of both. Quinn may have appeared ‘devil may care’, and at times a little too involved in his fun loving ways, but after knowing him for a while, she knew the strength within his heart. She knew what he strode for and what he wanted.
And she should have realized after knowing him all this time, that eventually, especially after her broken engagement and newfound freedom, that he would want more from her, with her.
"Evening, J. P." Quinn rose and offered his hand to the formidable, rather large wall of a man that was James Preston Sinclair. Mia's eyes went back and forth between them, measuring each to see who would outstare who.
When her father acknowledged Quinn's presence with a curt nod instead of a handshake, Mia was appalled.
"Rafferty," Sinclair greeted, then turned his attention toward her. "Mia, don’t you have an early morning conference call with St. Louis tomorrow?"
Mia cleared her throat and tried not to utter a nasty comeback. Under the table, she welcomed the firm squeeze of Quinn's hand in solidarity. "Yes, Dad, I do. Just having a drink with the team to celebrate Quinn's shutout tonight. Why don’t you join us?"
Her father only showed up at the team's favorite watering hole to check up on the players, making sure they were behaving themselves and adhering to the oncoming team curfew.
Sinclair nodded, but ignored Mia's request. He instead turned his attention back to Quinn.
Playing for Keeps/Body Check (Rules of the Game) Page 7