by Amy Noelle
There was a long pause at the end of the line. “I don’t remember asking you to. I just thought—”
“We both thought a lot of things,” I said. I didn’t need to hear his bullshit. “What else have you been up to these past few days? I mean, besides playing baseball?” He had one chance to tell me about her.
“That’s about it, really. Eating, sleeping, and playing.” He was playing, all right. “I’ve really needed you, and I can’t tell you how much it hurt that you weren’t there for me. Why haven’t you called me back?”
That did it. “I’m sure you had all you needed without me, Brad.”
“What is this? What’s going on?”
I closed my eyes and prayed for the strength I needed to get through this. I would not cry. I would not let him convince me to give him a second chance.
“I think it’s fairly obvious this has run its course.”
“This? As in us?” His voice got higher. “Are you breaking up with me?”
I bit my lip. “I’ve heard the sportscasters. They all say you’ve done what you were expected to and it’s time for you to go pro. The Dodgers took you number one overall. You have no reason to return to school.”
“No reason, huh?” The edge was in his voice now. He was getting mad. Good. That would make this easier.
“None.”
“And that’s it? We’re done because you say so? Are you doing this because you think you’re standing in the way of my career? The pros can wait a year, and you can go with me. It’s what we always planned.”
That was before I knew he was a lying cheater. “Plans change. You need to do what’s right for you and not worry about me.” My eyes were stinging but I blinked back the tears.
“How can you ask me to do that? I love you.”
For once, the words did not melt me. Not after I’d heard him say them to someone else. “I’m sure you’ll forget all about me once you get to LA.”
“What the hell, Dani? How can you say that? You know that’s not true.”
“All I know is that you need to sign with the Dodgers and start your life. I’m going to do the same. Goodbye, Brad.”
I disconnected before he could say another word and shut it off before I could lose my resolve. Hearing the hurt and confusion in his voice had nearly done me in. If only I could have gotten the image of him and her out of my head, I just might have stayed with him.
I reached up and unclasped the necklace I couldn’t bear to remove until it was officially done and tossed it aside as I let the tears fall.
Chapter 4
I could hear the sound of the bat connecting with the ball before I even stepped out onto the field, that satisfying crack that indicated good contact. I hated to admit it, but I stopped for a second and took a breath to steady myself before I laid eyes on him in person for the first time in years. I’d had a couple of months to prepare myself, but now that the day was here, the nerves were back in full force.
The Dodgers hadn’t been willing to let me attend spring training. I guess they thought I was going to spy on them and sell their secrets to the highest bidder, or maybe give my former newspaper a scoop. I didn’t know, but I didn’t protest. I’d welcomed the time to prepare myself mentally and, yes, physically as well. I’d gotten a new haircut and a facial and I’d worked out every day for two months so I actually had some definition and muscle tone going on. It was vain and stupid, but I didn’t care. I knew he looked better than he had in college, and I wanted to do the same.
I steeled myself and followed the security guard through the bullpen. I wanted to be awed by the size and history of Dodger Stadium, but my eyes were drawn to the man standing at the plate. I watched as he cocked the bat up above his shoulder and moved his hips in a way all too familiar to me. Muscles bunched together as he took his stance, and the look of fierce concentration on his face had me lost in memories. It was just wrong that his sex face was the same as his game face. It was also wrong that I remembered so easily what he’d looked like when we made love.
The pitcher fired the ball across the plate. Brad’s hips swiveled, his arms came down, and the ball went flying over the fence. He would hit a home run the instant I walked onto the field. Jerk. Then again, this was only batting practice. They purposely threw easy pitches in batting practice.
Brad laughed and taunted his coach, who gave him the finger before firing the ball low and inside. Brad danced out of the way as the coach shouted, “Strike!”
“That was a ball and you know it. Are you trying to brush me back, old man?”
“Hands, if I wanted to I could bean you before you even thought of moving.”
Brad laughed and took his stance again. The pitching coach went into his wind-up and let the ball fly. Brad hit it with ease, smoking what would be a single between short and third. I couldn’t help but admire the way his jersey hugged his body and the way those pants showed off what had become a prime ass. He’d always had a great one, but time had improved it. Everything about him was better. It wasn’t fair.
“Well, hello, pretty lady.” I planted a smile on my face and waved to the pitching coach who’d caught sight of me. Brad’s head whipped around and I was grateful I had my sunglasses on. I felt like I’d be scorched just meeting that hot gaze.
The older man tugged off his glove and tossed it on the mound before jogging over to me. “You must be Dani Young. I’m Tom Hardison.”
My smile felt less forced at the obvious kindness in his craggy face as he grinned at me. I shook his offered hand. “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you, Tom.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” His other hand came up to envelop mine. “He didn’t tell me how beautiful you were. No wonder he asked me to make him look good.”
“I did no such thing.” Because he was right there and it would be impolite not to look, I turned to Brad. “I look good without your help.”
It was true, unfortunately. Up close and personal he nearly took my breath away with that sharp, defined jaw, the stubble that made him look more rugged, those light green eyes that were intent on my face, and that tousled black hair that still looked good despite having been covered by his hat up until a minute ago.
“Hello, Dani.” He didn’t offer a hand, and I wasn’t sure I would have taken it if he had. Being near him was hard enough without adding touching to the mix.
“Brad.”
Tom glanced between us before laughing. “This is going to be a lot of fun. So I hear you’re going to write about Hands here?”
“Hands?” I asked, my eyes drawn to the very appendages he was referring to. Oh yeah, I remembered those. Strong, capable hands.
“That’s what I call our boy Reynolds. There’s nobody with better hands than him. Best third baseman I’ve ever worked with, and I’ve worked with some greats.”
That figured. At least he occasionally used his hands to do his job instead of feel up random blondes.
“I’m sure she’ll be talking to you eventually, Tom.” Brad gave him a look and got a smirk in return before Tom turned to me and tipped his hat.
“It was nice meeting you, Dani. Feel free to ask me for insider info about this one anytime you like.”
“I will.” He seemed sweet, and I looked forward to talking to him. In fact, I wanted to beg him to stay and start telling those stories now, but he was already trotting toward the mound to get his glove.
I turned back to find Brad staring at me, and I had to resist the urge to check my face to make sure I hadn’t gotten any dirt on it. “What?”
“You look good.” His soft accent was the same, even if the rest of him wasn’t. And it still made my traitorous heart skip a beat.
“Thanks. You do, too.”
He looked smug, and I remembered I didn’t like him anymore.
“Thanks. Shall we?” He gestured to the dugout and I followed him down, doing my best not to admire the way his white pants showed off his muscular legs. I failed, but at least I tried. It was annoying that
he looked so good. He reached the bench, grabbed two water bottles out of the cooler, and offered me one. I took it and drank deep. It was a beautiful seventy degrees, but I felt overheated. He sat down, and I sat a few feet away.
“So,” he said. There was that irritating smile again. “You’re the expert here. What do we do?”
Expert, my ass. He was fully in control of this situation and it was one of the many reasons I hated him. I pushed down my sunglasses and gave him my best withering stare. “Why don’t you tell me why I’m here?” There. I asked. The ball was in his court now, and I didn’t care that I was mixing sports analogies.
“You’re here to write my story, of course. Isn’t that what you do?” He looked so damn smug and proud of himself. I wanted to punch him like I should have in Omaha when he was busy declaring his love to Bailey, who obviously hadn’t lasted any longer than I had since he now dated a parade of actresses and models. At least I had that small bit of satisfaction.
“No, what I do is write stories about athletes overcoming adversity on their way to greatness. What adversity have you faced?”
His smile slipped. “Oh, I don’t know, growing up without a mother, maybe? Being molded from the time I could walk by my father? Losing the only . . . you know what? It doesn’t matter. You’re here and we’re stuck with each other, so we may as well suck it up and work together.”
I felt a pang. He’d never told me his mother leaving had bothered him at all. He’d rarely brought her up, and if I had, he’d shrugged it off.
“I’m sorry. You always told me she didn’t matter.”
“She shouldn’t.” That hot green gaze burned into me. “Nobody that walks away without a second glance is deserving of my time or energy.”
Direct hit. I winced but didn’t look away. “Then I ask you again, why am I here?”
“And I tell you again, to tell my story.”
I huffed. “Stop being deliberately obtuse, Brad. You could have picked anybody to tell your story, so why me? What reason could you have to drag me across the country and back into your life?”
He leaned back and crossed his long legs at the ankles. “Well, now, that’s a very good question. No wonder you’re so good at your job.”
I recognized deflection when I saw it. “That’s not an answer.”
He took a swig from his bottle, stopping to lick a droplet off his lips. Ass. I knew what he was doing and it wasn’t going to work. “I’m just saying you’re good at your job, and I want someone who has talent.”
“There are plenty of talented writers out there that you haven’t slept with,” I muttered.
“Don’t be so sure.”
I wanted to smack that smirk right off his face. Instead, I stood and smoothed my skirt, and I couldn’t help but notice his eyes were on my legs. Good. Let him suffer a little. “It’s clear we’re both just wasting our time here. I’m sure my publisher can find a writer more suited to your needs. I’ll have them give you a call.”
Before I took more than a step, he reached out and grabbed my forearm. I yelped and jerked my arm away from him. The momentum caused my ankle to twist and I tumbled to the ground. My butt hit the dirt and I heard something tear. I wasn’t sure if I was thankful or mortified that it was only the fabric of my skirt, which now had a slit up the left thigh.
Brad was crouched next to me holding out a hand. “Are you okay?”
The only thing wounded was my pride, and it pissed me off that I had to take his hand to get up. First and last time I’d wear heels at the baseball stadium. I’d wanted to look professional and unapproachable. So much for that, with my skirt practically high enough to show him that I still wore bikini briefs. I had no choice but to take his hand because there was no way I was getting up alone without flashing him.
“I’m fine. Just help me up and I’ll get out of your hair.” I’d go back to my hotel and wallow in my humiliation before heading home in the morning. This wasn’t quite the way I’d imagined our reunion. He was supposed to cry and tell me no other woman compared to me while I laughed and walked away with my own hot model. Or actor, or musician. I wasn’t picky.
Instead of taking my hand like a normal person, he scooped me up with an arm underneath my arms and the other under my ass. He didn’t disguise his laughter when I twisted out of his arms and got to my feet. Yes, he was a sturdy athlete with an awesome body. I already knew that. I didn’t need to be pressed up against him to be reminded.
“Looking good, Red.”
“Don’t call me that.” I tried for dignity despite my now dirty, ripped skirt. “As I was saying, someone will contact you and . . .”
“They’ll do no such thing. I want you and you only.” He must have seen my shocked expression because he hastened to clarify. “To write my story, that is.”
I sighed and fought the urge to fuss with my hair. I was sure it was all over the place after my fall. “Why? And no crap this time, or I’m leaving and not coming back.”
“Quid pro quo. Why’d you agree to do it?” He was too close. I took a step back so it didn’t feel like he was looming over me. Even with me in heels, he still had several inches on me.
“I asked you first.”
“All right, fine.” He shrugged. “If I’m going to talk about me, I’d rather do it with somebody I know and trust, or at least used to.”
“How’d you know what I did for a living?” Had he been following me all these years? Why did the idea of that make me warm inside?
“Nope. Your turn. Why’d you say yes?” He crossed his arms and watched me.
Fair enough. “Because I was curious as to why you chose me.” That was one reason, anyway.
“Cute, Dani. That just turns the question back on me.”
“Well, as you said, I’m good at what I do.” Now it was my turn to give him a smug smile. I relished it.
“Then I guess that’s the only answer you’re going to get out of me, for now. I do have other reasons, but I’ll keep those to myself.”
“You’re not even going to tell me how you knew what I did?”
He chuckled. “I was flipping channels one day in a hotel room in Philly, and there you were, talking about your book. I went out and got a copy and liked what I read. You’ve got a real talent with words. You always did.”
His compliment confused me, and I could feel my cheeks heating. “Thank you. I can’t say I’m surprised you’re the best at what you do either.”
He laughed. “I try. And I work hard at it. You’re about to find out just how hard.”
“If I decide to stay.”
“You’ll stay. You’re too curious not to.”
It infuriated me that he knew that much about me. “Maybe I’ve changed.”
“In some ways, sure, but not in that way.” His gaze traveled down my body. “In some ways you’ve changed for the better.”
Take it all in, Brad. You can look but you can’t touch. “More ways than you’ll ever know.” A slow smile spread across his face and I knew I needed to get away before I either killed him or kissed him. One or the other was bound to happen soon. “I’m going to check into my hotel and we can get started tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it.” I started to walk away, but he called my name, and I turned. “Your hair still looks like fire in the sun, Red.”
“Stay back or you’ll get burned,” I warned with a smile.
“We’ll see. I plan on getting answers to my questions, starting tomorrow.” He looked so damn confident.
“It’s my questions you’ll need to worry about. Are you sure you’re going to come out of this book looking like anything other than the asshole you are?”
“I think we’re both in for some surprises.”
There was no doubt about that.
Chapter 5
My sleep, when it had come, hadn’t been remotely restful. Memories of the boy flashed with images of the man, and I woke up hot, sweaty, and more turned on than I’d been in longer than I cared to admit.
But a cold shower, some makeup, and a hot cup of coffee made me appear cool and unruffled.
He’d gotten to me, damn it.
There were still a couple of days before the start of the season, so I’d have him to myself until then, and maybe I’d get some answers. Or maybe I’d snap and kill him. Or even worse, throw myself at him. No matter what I knew or what I’d come to find out, he was still dead sexy, and when he looked at me with those gorgeous, angry eyes, I wanted to crawl into his lap and take what used to be mine. I hated myself for that. Half an hour in his presence and I was already a mess.
Today I was wearing pants and a blouse. There’d be no flashing him leg or anything else. The drive to his condo was fairly easy, and I found myself in front of a glitzy high-rise. I guessed I should have expected it, but I was surprised. When we’d talked about the future, we’d discussed a big yard so we could have a couple of golden retrievers and a place for the kids to . . . no, that was a dangerous avenue for my mind to go. That was then. The Brad from then didn’t exist anymore, if he ever really had. Our dreams were just the fantasies of two stupid kids. Nothing more.
He lived in the penthouse, or one of them, since it looked like this building had several. I took the long ride up the elevator and tried to control my nerves. I’d survived yesterday. I was here until I had enough information to write a book about the jerk. I needed to suck it up.
I stepped off the elevator and approached his door. Before I could knock, it swung open and Brad filled the doorway. He was wearing black jeans and a green T-shirt that set off his eyes. Had he done that on purpose to taunt me? He knew I loved him in green.
“Good morning, Dani. Did you sleep well?”
Did he know? Was it written all over my face that I’d had sex dreams about him? “Like a baby,” I lied. His smile widened, but there was no way he knew about my dreams. If he kept smiling like that, tonight I’d dream about punching it right off his face. That would be much more satisfying.
“Well, come on in.” He stepped aside and showed me into a living room that belonged on the cover of Architectural Digest. The floors were white marble and the furniture was sleek, black, and modern. There were no pictures anywhere. Actually, there was nothing personal anywhere. The fireplace mantle was bare, the tables held only lamps, and there wasn’t even a blanket on the couch to make it feel homey. I felt like I was in a museum.