Rediscover this classic tale of romance by New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham.
The last thing Jade McClaine needs is more complications. So when former pro baseball star Jeff Martin slams into her car one morning, and then crashes into her life that afternoon—as the new coach for her son’s little league team—she’s beyond flustered. And the way Jeff looks at her doesn’t help. What the single mom does need is to make a sale on an amazing old Miami property. It’s the deal that could make or break her. And it just so happens that Jeff is looking for a new home… There’s just one problem: with all the time they’re spending together, she’s rapidly falling for someone who is bound to break her heart.
Originally published in 1986.
Look for Heather Graham’s next novel
A PERFECT OBSESSION
available soon from MIRA Books
The Game of Love
Heather Graham
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Excerpt from A Perfect Obsession by Heather Graham
PROLOGUE
“And stri-ke three! Yessirree, you heard the ump, folks! Strike three it is; the World Series goes to the Sox in a nutshell, Martin bringing them to glory straight off the pitcher’s mound!”
The subdued sound of a television greeted Jeff as he entered his darkened town house. He shook his head, frowning as he quietly closed the door, slipped out of his coat and dusted the snow from it. It was a fierce night, even for Chicago, howling with wind, and bitter with cold.
There was a faint glow coming from the living room; he walked down the hallway and stood in the doorway as his eyes adjusted to the light coming from the television set.
He tensed, watching the quick blur of images as they passed over the screen; the eleven o’clock nightly news was doing a series on local celebrities. Tonight the piece was about him. Dirk Hagen, an old teammate and friend, was sitting on the sofa watching the screen. He was as unaware of Jeff as Jeff was of him.
The sportscaster claimed that Jeffrey Martin was one of the best pitchers alive, and went on to say that it was a damned pity his career had been cut short by a skiing accident.
Jeff winced—not because his career had been cut short. He’d never felt that playing baseball was his only option in life. But the newsreel did have the power to hurt him, because it brought back memories.
He hadn’t wanted to ski. He’d gone on the party weekend because Diana had wanted to go. It hurt to remember that. To remember the way she’d thrown herself all over him while the cameras were rolling, and walked out the moment the doctors said that he’d never play baseball again. They’d said he’d be lucky if he ever walked again.
But he could walk now. Two years of grinding therapy had taught him to walk again, without a limp most of the time.
And Diana…
There she was on the screen. A picture of their wedding flashed onto the television, then one of their leaving the hospital together when Ryan was born. The commentator had been generous with praise that night: he’d called Jeff the best pitcher ever; Diana he’d described as possibly the most beautiful woman in the world.
Well, that she was, Jeff thought dryly. And she sure did like to see that her beauty was appreciated by all.
He strode across the room and snapped off the television, then went to the bar and poured himself a drink.
“Hell’s fire, Jeffrey Martin!” Dirk complained. “I didn’t hear you walk in.”
Dirk was a sandy-haired, wiry athlete; it seemed strange to see him tense and on the edge of his seat.
Jeff chuckled softly. “Sorry, Dirk. Want a drink?”
“Yeah. Yeah, after that, I sure as hell do.”
Jeff poured out a shot of bourbon for Dirk and handed it to him.
“Did Ryan wake up?” he asked.
“Nope. Haven’t heard a word from him.”
“Thanks for coming. I appreciate it.”
“It was nothing,” Dirk mumbled. Then he stared at Jeff curiously. “Well, uh, was everything all right?”
Jeff shrugged and took a long sip of bourbon, glad of the fire it sent through him. “Yeah, everything is okay. She was at a boat party with some Canadian players and had a few too many drinks. When she called me, she was practically incoherent. I was worried that she wouldn’t get home okay. I found her…”
“And she was pretty messed up, huh?”
“Who knows with Diana? She’s the ultimate actress. Anyway, I took her home, tucked her in and left.
Dirk stared at the blank television screen. The room was so quiet Jeff could hear the soft ticking of the mantle clock.
“Well, I sure as hell don’t know why you do it!” Dirk suddenly exclaimed. “She cheated on you, and you gave her a chance. She left you, and you finally divorced her. Now, every time she’s in a scrape, she gives you a call, and you pick up the pieces. I’ll be damned if I know why!”
Jeff didn’t respond to his friend’s anger. He sipped his drink then said softly, “What am I supposed to do, Dirk? She’s still Ryan’s mother, and he adores her. I have to pick up the pieces when I can.”
“She’s as wild as a cougar,” Dirk muttered resentfully. “And as mean.”
“No, no she isn’t,” Jeff said slowly. “She’s just absolutely careless of other people’s feelings.”
“You still, uh, see her now and then?”
Jeff laughed easily. “Now and then, but then was a while ago.” He grinned at his friend. “It’s okay now. Because I don’t care anymore. Seeing her is just like seeing any other woman.”
“Hmmph!” Dirk snorted. He didn’t like Diana. He’d been there when she’d walked out on Jeff.
“You should hate her,” Dirk said.
“Well—” Jeff took a seat on the couch, stretching his legs out before him “—I don’t.”
“You’re not bitter?”
“Sure, a little.” His expression softened. “But she gave me Ryan, and he’s the best thing in my life.”
Dirk gazed over at Jeff Martin and smiled. Jeff was six three, broad in the shoulders, lean, rugged and damned good-looking. He’d never needed to play ball to attract the opposite sex, and his charisma had enabled him to move quickly from the ball park to the TV screen as an announcer.
But he’d never cared much about the adulation. He’d always been a private man, fond of his home, of quiet, intimate gatherings. How he and Diana had gotten together in the first place was a mystery. How they’d stayed married for seven years was another puzzle. Dirk couldn’t help feeling that the divorce was best for all concerned. Particularly since Jeff had gotten custody of his son. No one could love a kid more than Jeff Martin loved nine-year-old Ryan.
“Yeah, Ryan is a fine kid,” Dirk said. The boy took after his old man, he decided, not in looks, but in personality.
“So what are you going to do?” Dirk demanded. “Spend the rest of your life in casual affairs while you pick up Diana every time she tries one of her ploys?”
Jeff grinned. “Nope.”
“Well, that’s what you did tonight.”
“I won’t be doing it again.”
“Oh, yeah. And why not?”
“I’m moving. To Miami.”
“Miami! You’re going to leave Chicago for Miami?”
Dirk felt that Chicago was the height of sophistication—and that any other place was simply unciviliz
ed.
“Yeah.” Jeff smiled slowly, lifting his drink. “I got a nice job offer from one of the network affiliates down there, and it sounded good to me. Palm trees, sunshine, sailing—”
“Hmm. And girls in bikinis.”
The move was starting to sound better to Dirk. But then he sobered. “And a new life, huh?”
Jeff stood up and walked to the window. He watched as the snow beat against the panes. There was a lot of pain still, and a lot of bitterness for him here in Chicago. And it would probably be the best thing in the world for Diana to realize that if she wanted her own life, she had to live it—by herself.
He lifted his glass to Dirk, and to his own reflection in the windowpane.
“Yep. A new life.”
CHAPTER 1
Jade had barely turned onto Ponce when she realized that Sean’s folder was still on the passenger seat of her old Corvette.
“Damn,” she swore softly, frustrated. It had been one of those “Murphy’s Law” mornings: every little thing that could go wrong had. She’d forgotten to put Sean’s gym clothes in the dryer, every pair of panty hose she owned had runs, the mayonnaise had turned and she’d somehow managed to char bacon in a microwave!
And now this! She’d have to turn around and go back to school. Sean’s math teacher took no excuses for incomplete homework.
She shook her head a little woefully. Sean had a bad enough time in math without being marked down for no homework.
Traffic was ridiculously heavy on Ponce that morning. She couldn’t get anyone to let her into the left lane to make a turn. The Metrorail went screeching by on her right and she jumped, the system had been in for ages, but the sound still made her certain that Russian SST’s were attacking.
She gritted her teeth, flicked on her blinker and swore again. “Miami has the rudest damned drivers in the world.”
When the light had changed three times and she was still caught in the right lane, Jade rolled down her window. There was a young man in the car at her left, and she beeped to get his attention. He was snapping his fingers to the rhythm of a rock song that seemed to be shaking the entire body of his classic Chevy.
“Hey!” she called out. He couldn’t possibly hear her, so she beeped again. At last he looked her way and gave her a wide smile.
“Hi!” he said brightly.
“Can I get over when the light changes, please?”
“Sure. Nice car.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s your name?”
Jade couldn’t help smiling in amusement. The kid was cute. He had nice shaggy brown hair, dark eyes and a great smile. Probably a sophomore, she decided, and definitely University of Miami—he had bumper stickers promoting the Hurricanes all over the car.
She was surprised that he was flirting with her. She must be looking better than she’d imagined this morning if this young thing was trying to pick her up.
“Jade,” she replied, shouting a bit over the sound of their motors and the music.
“Jade. Neat name. Want to meet for lunch?” He grinned.
Jade laughed, shaking her head.
“I’m too old!”
“Too old for what? Even my grandparents eat lunch.”
She shook her head, still smiling. The light changed, and he gallantly allowed her to speed ahead of him.
Her smile slowly faded as she faced a new traffic jam in the turn lane. Jade groaned. It was going to take time before she could actually make her left.
She rolled up her window and turned on the air conditioning. It was November, but the weather was still miserably hot. The day was humid and the temperature was nearly ninety.
“I’ll wilt before I ever get to the office,” she muttered. Aggravated, she switched on her radio. The car began to cool. She leaned back and tried to relax. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the velvet green of the grass along the median and the pretty vines growing up the Metrorail support. The sky was a dazzling blue, and to her right, palm fronds waved pleasantly in the subtle breeze.
She glanced fleetingly at her reflection in the rearview mirror. What had the young man seen? She was wearing a modicum of makeup—just lipstick and a dash of mascara. She grimaced. Maybe it was her hair. There was a lot of it, and the tawny strands were very windblown at the moment. Maybe it looked like a stylish modern cut from a distance.
The light changed. She inched forward. Then, miracle of miracles, the cars ahead of her began to move. She might—just might—get her chance to make that left.
There was something big coming…a Lincoln? A Caddy? She wasn’t sure. But the light switched to yellow. In seconds, she made up her mind. She gunned the Corvette, certain that the oncoming car would stop for the changing light.
But just as she turned, the flow of traffic through the intersection stopped, and she had to slam on her brakes. “Oh, hell…” she began.
And then before she could finish her exclamation of annoyance, the Corvette jerked and shuddered—and a long scraping sound filled her ears.
“No! Oh, no! That damned idiot!” she wailed aloud.
The big car hadn’t stopped. It was now attached to her rear bumper. And there was a man stepping out of it—a man as big as the damned car. He was six three if he was an inch, broad shouldered, well muscled and trim. He was dressed in a handsomely tailored three-piece pin-striped suit.
Some high-tech executive with money, she thought furiously, in such a hurry to make more money that he can’t even keep his eye on traffic.
As he approached, she realized he looked furious. A lock of dark chestnut hair had fallen over his forehead and mirrored sunglasses covered his eyes, but his anger was easy to read nonetheless. His strides were long, his mouth was grim and his chin had a belligerent cast to it.
How dared he look like that! she thought, and without pausing to consider her action, she wrenched her own door open, ready to fly into battle.
“You ass!” a deep male voice accosted her angrily. “You could have killed yourself! Thank God I was able to stop when I did! You could have been a mangled corpse in that sardine can!”
“Me!” Jade shrilled in return. She would never admit it, but the Corvette was a bit of a sardine can. All of a sudden she didn’t seem to be able to extricate her long legs from the low-slung seat. “Sir, did you purchase your driver’s license at Sears? Red lights mean that you’re supposed to stop!”
“It was yellow!”
“Like hell it was!” Oh, she was angry. Righteously angry. He was leaning over the Corvette now, and horns were blaring everywhere. She tried again to get out of the car. Unfortunately, the high heel of her shoe caught in the doorframe and she pitched right into her adversary.
Strong hands caught her shoulders, steadying her. She wrenched herself out of his grip.
“You hit me, you fool!” she retorted. “Everyone knows that you are at fault when you hit from the rear—”
“I had the right-of-way! You bolted out in front of me!”
“You just wait till the police get here. They’ll give you the ticket—you’ll see!”
He put his hands on his hips, oblivious to all the honking around them. He cocked his head slightly, and suddenly he smiled, as if he were amused with the situation, though in heaven’s name, Jade couldn’t imagine why.”
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
“What?”
“You weren’t hurt?”
“No,” she mumbled, lowering her head slightly in confusion. He’d made such an abrupt about-face.
“Then if your car is still driveable, I suggest we get in and do just that—drive. I assure you that if we wait for the police, you’ll get the ticket.”
“What?” Jade asked, fuming all over again. “Oh, no! You’re not getting out of this one!” She spun around, stiffening her shoulders in determination. That determination only intensified when she realized that his car barely had a dented fender.
The whole right rear end of hers was smashed in.
“Your insurance rate can go up because of this accident—not mine!” she told him, and quite suddenly, and annoyingly, she felt a little like crying. Her life wasn’t so hard, no harder than that of a good many people doing their best to get by, but it would be so nice not to have to worry about every little setback.
He wouldn’t have to worry. Not this man. So they raised his auto insurance. Big deal. He probably wouldn’t even notice.
Unfortunately, Jade did have to worry. To make matters worse, she was going to be so late that Mr. Harrison would decide that if she couldn’t even arrive at an appointment on time, how could she ever sell his house?
The stranger threw his hands up in the air suddenly and laughed. “Okay, lady, have it your way. We’ll wait for the police. I’m sure someone will be along any moment.”
He sat on the hood of her Corvette, casually folding his arms over his chest.
“Get off my car!” Jade began, but she didn’t have a chance to press the point, because she heard a police siren then, and a second later a City of Miami patrol car was winding its way through the traffic to reach them.
“Now,” Jade warned smugly, “we’ll see who was at fault here.”
He smiled enigmatically.
“Too bad you’re such an irrational female. I might have bought you coffee while we had a mechanic check the damage to your car.”
“What!” Jade eyed him again, then laughed dryly. What was this guy? Some kind of an overconfident jock dressed up in a business suit?
Yes, exactly, she decided. His size and build lent credence to her guess as did his slightly long hair and lazy smile. He’d probably played college football and picked up all the cheerleaders. And now he was grown up and working in an office, picking up his secretary instead, keeping muscled and trim at some spa. Maybe he was even married, but that wouldn’t bother him too much. He was good-looking, affluent and had that sexual mystique certain men seemed to radiate. He was so confident of his appeal that he thought he would be able to buy her off with a cup of coffee.
The Game of Love Page 1