Bases Loaded (Mustangs Baseball)

by Roz Lee

  “Er….”

  “You know who I am?” he parroted her earlier comment.

  “Er…yes,” she breathed. “Of course I do.”

  “Good. Then this will be easier.”

  What? What was going to be easier? Her knees shook, and she racked her brain for something to say.

  “Are you going to bid on the ring, too?” he asked.

  “Um….”

  He bumped her hip again, and she stepped to the side. He took her place in front of the ring for auction. “We’re going to need one of these,” he said as he penned his name and another ridiculously large bid amount.

  “Wait.” She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re going to need an engagement ring and wedding bands. If you don’t like the ones here, we’ll use this for something else. I’d like to see you wear my jewels.”

  Okay. So, she was prone to fantasies, but this was ridiculous. She closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them, he was still there. A sick feeling she was all too familiar with took hold in her stomach. Humiliation.

  Bitterness rose in her throat. She’d been here before. It was bad enough the stunning women who hung out at these events used her vulnerabilities to elevate themselves in their own eyes. She could deal with them—had been for years. But did good-looking guys have to use plain women to boost their egos, too? Wasn’t being rich, talented, and gorgeous enough for a guy? That’s the trouble with meeting the object of your fantasies. They never live up to the image in your mind. She swallowed hard, trying to force the bitter pill of yet another ruined fantasy down.

  “This isn’t funny, Mr. Ramirez.” She was proud her voice remained steady when all she really wanted to do was hide somewhere and cry.

  “And it isn’t meant to be. I intend to marry you, Clare. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Yes, I do….”

  He smiled and anger joined humiliation and bitterness in the volatile mixture brewing in her stomach.

  “Have a problem with that,” she added. What an ass.

  “Well then, I’ll just have to convince you. We’ll have lots of time together. I’ve outbid you on the spa day, the luxury hotel weekend, the private yacht and now the diamond ring. I’ll win them all, and we’ll enjoy them together.”

  Why wouldn’t her feet move? “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

  He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “What else do you want to bid on, il mio cuore?”

  Ooh. Italian. Her inner woman swooned, and her knees turned to jelly. But her brain didn’t. She bet he’d brought plenty of women to their knees with talk like that. Not me, buddy. She glanced around to see if anyone might save her. They had the corner of the room to themselves—a situation she had dreamed of for ages, which at the moment, felt like her worst nightmare. She was on her own.

  “Look, um…Mr. Ramirez….”

  “Tony.”

  Be cool. Don’t let the bully know how much it hurts. Just act normal. Then get the hell out. “Antonio,” she sighed. “This is…flattering. But you have to stop.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Her voice rose above the din surrounding them, causing a few heads to swivel their way. Clare plastered what she hoped was a smile on her face and lowered her voice to a conversational level. “Because you and I both know this is a game, and I don’t want to play anymore.”

  Of all the fantasies she’d conjured up about this man over the years, she’d never dreamed he could be cruel enough to toy with a woman.

  He slipped his arm around her waist and steered her along the display table. Every cell in her body thrilled at his touch while her brain screamed for her to run. But that would turn an already unbearable moment into an embarrassing scene. The last thing she needed was for one of the ballroom bullies to witness an altercation between her and The Sexiest Man Alive. She’d never hear the end of it.

  “Come on,” he urged. “There are a few other items we should bid on. I saw them earlier, but I didn’t bid because there wasn’t anyone I wanted to share them with.”

  Clare walked beside him, her hip rubbing along his as he held her close. She kept her hands clutched in front of her. They stopped at a bid item that offered a ski weekend in Aspen. Keeping her pinned to his side, Antonio bent and added his bid to the bottom line. If she played along, maybe she could salvage some part of the encounter After all, from a distance it probably looked like he was interested in her. He did have his arm around her waist. Take that, bitches.

  He set the pen down and beamed at her. “Maybe we’ll get snowed in.”

  He bid on two more items that were part of her fantasy package, only the amounts he wrote down were outrageously large. When they reached the end of the tables, he steered her toward one of the many bars scattered around the room.

  “Soda for me, and a white wine for my lady,” he said.

  The bartender glanced her way and winked. A tide of heat rose from her décolletage to her hairline.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said, taking a step back.

  His hand on the small of her back reeled her in like a fly ball snagged before it cleared the outfield wall. “Don’t go. Not yet.” He pressed a glass of wine into her hand and picked up his soda. “We haven’t had nearly enough time to talk.”

  They’d had plenty of time, in her opinion. It only took a few seconds to find out Antonio Ramirez was just like every other hunky guy out there. Full of himself. Not that her traitorous body gave a damn. But her brain did. Her opportunity to escape presented itself, and she took it.

  “Will you excuse me?” she shoved the wine glass in his direction. “I’m going to the ladies room. I’ll be right back.” Right. She’d be in her car and pulling out of the parking garage before it occurred to him she’d ditched him. Jerk.

  She turned on her heel and stopped short.

  “Clare,” her uncle said, automatically bussing her cheek with a kiss.

  “Mr. Walker. Good to see you again.” She hoped he caught on to her formal greeting. There were times she enjoyed playing the my-uncle-is-the-team-manager card, but mostly it was something she tried to keep quiet. Her present situation was humiliating enough without having her uncle come to her rescue as if she were a helpless damsel in distress.

  Bless his heart, he raised an eyebrow at her greeting and, with a smile, turned to the newest member of his team. “Tony, I see you’ve met our organist.”

  “Yes, sir. I have. We were just going to go someplace quieter and get to know each other.”

  Doyle shifted his gaze to Clare. She shook her head. “Actually, I was just leaving.” She stepped around her uncle, putting him between her and Antonio.

  Behind her, Antonio called for her to wait up, then her uncle’s voice told him to let her go. She made a beeline for the hotel lobby and the bank of elevators that would take her to the underground parking garage. Thank goodness she couldn’t afford valet parking, or she would be stuck outside waiting for her car. This was much better. In a few minutes, she’d be safe in her darkened car where no one would see her tears.

  * * *

  “Clare! Wait!” Tony reached for her, but she moved too fast, and he grabbed a handful of air. He took a step to follow, coming up short when Doyle placed a hand on his chest.

  “Let her go.”

  He hurt inside, and it had nothing to do with the palm pressing against his upper body. There was something about the hitch in Clare’s voice that speared him in the heart.

  He brushed the older man’s hand away. Damned if he knew how, but he’d hurt her, and he needed to make it right. “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand that you aren’t going after her. And you are going to hear me.” The team manager’s tone warned him he’d better listen—or else.

  Clare disappeared through the ballroom doors.

  “Say what you have to say then I’m going after her.”

  “No, you’re not. Leave her be, Ramirez.”

/>   “I can’t do that.”

  “You can, and you will. I’ve heard about the kind of games you like to play, and Clare isn’t that kind of girl.”

  Tony went cold inside. So, even the Mustangs management had heard the rumors. No worries. He’d left that behind in New York. “This isn’t a game. She’s special.”

  “You have a reputation for being reckless, on and off the field. She isn’t your type,” Doyle argued.

  “She’s exactly my type. She’s beautiful, and intelligent, and sexy as hell.”

  “I’m warning you. Don’t drag her into your world, Tony. Stay away from her.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I can’t do that. Did you hear her? She’s upset, and I don’t know why. I’ve got to find her.”

  “Didn’t you come with some model tonight?”

  Shit. Tony scanned the crowded room for his date. She was as tall as most of the men in the room, so she was easy to spot. Only she wasn’t. And neither was Tanner.

  “She ditched me for Tanner,” he said. And good riddance. His publicist wasn’t wouldn’t be happy, but he’d gladly suffer her wrath in return for his freedom tonight. He silently vowed never to let her goad him into escorting another one of her clients again.

  “You still aren’t going after Clare.”

  Tony sighed and allowed his shoulders to relax. He couldn’t afford to piss off the team manager. Multi-million dollar contract or not, the man didn’t have to play him if he didn’t want to. Refusing to escort sequined toothpicks couldn’t possibly hurt his career, but having his ass benched before the season even began most certainly would.

  “Okay. You win, but will you do me a favor?”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  “Call her. Or call someone to check on her. I didn’t mean to upset her, and I don’t want her to be alone when she feels that way.”

  Doyle studied him for the longest time. Tony fought the urge to fidget. Any sign of weakness on his part would confirm the manager’s suspicions and condemn him to low-life status in his eyes forever. Somehow, Tony would convince him his intentions were honest and honorable.

  “I’d never do anything to hurt her, sir. I know my track record doesn’t look good, but I’m asking you to trust me.” He lowered his voice. “I’m through with that lifestyle, Doyle. I know the Mustangs run a spotless operation. Why do you think I wanted to come here? I wanted to start fresh—clean up my reputation.” Tony spit out the half-truth with ease. He had come to Texas in order to put distance between him and his vices, but one look at Clare Kincaid and his brain nearly exploded with images best not examined at too closely. The miles between Dallas and New York made acting on his less than reputable impulses more difficult, but clearly, the move hadn’t extinguished them.

  Tony squirmed under Doyle’s intense scrutiny.

  “I usually don’t care who my players are off the field, as long as they stay out of jail and out of the tabloids. I won’t cut you any slack, Ramirez. None at all. Your secret club isn’t much of a secret among the owners and managers. This is the only warning you’ll get from me. If I even suspect you have involved Clare in that mess, you’ll spend what’s left of your career in the minors.”

  For a man known for masking his emotions in the dugout, Doyle made no attempt to veil them now. He froze Tony with a death stare before he turned and stalked across the ballroom. Tony breathed a sigh of relief, but he took the warning to heart. That didn’t mean he would stay away from Clare.

  He couldn’t stay away from her. She was his.

  Chapter Three

  It took two days to find her, but when he entered the small booth housing the stadium’s organ, he knew the wait had been worth it. He leaned against the doorframe and admired the view. Bent over the console with her ass in the air, her backside reminded him of a wrapped gift—one his hands itched to unwrap.

  She sighed and tucked a strand of sable hair behind her ear. Just that small gesture had his cock aching for her touch. He imagined that sweep of hair brushing against his skin, and his abdominal muscles tightened.

  He had a good view of one side of her face. Her cheek was flushed, her jaw tight with frustration. He knew the feeling. For the last two days, he’d tried to find the Mustangs’ elusive organist, but most of the people he asked didn’t have a clue where to find her, and the ones who did refused to say. But luck was on his side. He’d come to the stadium to meet with HR and get all the employment paperwork in place. Insurance, direct deposit, tax forms–all done. Nothing to do now but find a place to live and wait for Spring Training. And find Clare Kinkaid.

  Then luck stepped in and gave him the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Coming out of the Mustangs offices, he’d caught a glimpse of Clare stepping into the elevator. He waited to see which floor she stopped on then followed her.

  She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a curse and straightened.

  “Lose something?”

  She let out a squeaky scream and turned. Her blue eyes were wide with alarm, and while one hand rested on the console behind her, the other rested on her chest. A lock of dark hair swirled over her left shoulder and curled seductively around her Mustangs jersey-clad breast.

  For just a second, he imagined her standing in his apartment wearing nothing but his jersey. He was instantly hard and shifted to ease the pressure, hoping she wouldn’t notice the bulge in his pants.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She dropped her hand to her side. “What do you want?”

  It wasn’t exactly the greeting he had hoped for He took a step inside the cramped booth, and she seemed to shrink away from him. Damn. He’d never get anywhere with her if she continued to treat him as if he was a walking STD.

  “This is where you work?” He tore his gaze from the most interesting thing in the room—her—and looked around. There wasn’t much to see, just an old-fashioned organ and a small control panel. A neatly folded hunk of gray plastic he assumed was a cover sat off to one side. On the other side, a headset hung from one of those stick anywhere plastic hooks adhered to the wall. A plate-glass window afforded a damned fine view of the field.

  “Yes, and I’m busy.”

  So, she had a bossy side. He liked it. He took another step in her direction, and she moved. He peered over the console. “What did you lose?”

  “My keys slid off the window ledge. I can see them, but I can’t reach them.”

  Yep. There they were within easy reach of someone with long enough arms. He straightened and turned to her. Maybe he could use this to his advantage. “I can get them, but it’s going to cost you.”

  She crossed her arms across her ample chest and scowled at him. “Seriously? You want me to pay you to get my keys?”

  He smiled. “I won’t charge much. Have dinner with me.”

  Her chest heaved with each breath she took. He found it very distracting.

  “My eyes are up here.” She uncrossed her arms long enough to point toward her face.

  Tony obliged, reluctantly. Not that he didn’t want to look at her face. She was beautiful, and the warmth coloring her cheeks had him imagining how the color would look on certain other body parts.

  “Don’t you have things to do?”

  “Actually, no. I’m surprisingly free for the next few months.” He mimicked her crossed arms stance.

  She huffed out a breath that might have included another muffled curse. “Why?”

  “Why, what?”

  She waved a hand in the air. “Why are you doing this? Why me? Do you get off on humiliating women?”

  His blood froze. He bent and retrieved her keys and held them out to her. “I’m sorry if you thought I was in any way making fun of you. I’d never do that to you, or any woman. My mama would box my ears if I did.”

  She snatched the keys from his palm, folding them into a white-knuckled fist.

  “I just want to get to know you, Clare.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.” He shrugged. Telling her s
he was his soul mate and he lusted for her day and night probably wouldn’t go over too well, so he settled on a lesser version of the truth. “You’re beautiful and sexy, and I don’t know anybody in this town. I’d like to have a meal with someone on occasion, and I’d prefer my companion to be easy on the eyes. There’s no one on the team who fits that description.”

  A smile ghosted across her face. “Well, I don’t fit it either, but since you got my keys for me, I suppose….”

  “Good.” He edged his way to the door. “Ready to go?”

  Clare covered the keyboard, grabbed the tote she had come for, and glanced around the cramped quarters to see if she had left anything behind she might need over the next few months.

  She hadn’t forgotten the fundraiser. The humiliation still stung, but if she let those kinds of instances rule her life, she would never leave the house. Besides, he’d made the effort to find her. Her heart sped up just thinking about what that might mean. Perhaps he was trying to make amends for his behavior.

  Or, he could still be toying with her. A man like him couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like her. She smirked. Yeah, he would run far and fast if he had any idea the kind of fantasies she harbored about him. But that was all they were, fantasies. Hot, sexy guys like Antonio Ramirez didn’t get down and dirty with plain women. Beautiful women threw themselves at him, and there were enough tabloid photos of him with Hollywood starlets and supermodels to support the assumption he enjoyed their company.

  “Wait. Why are you here—at the stadium?”

  “I had paperwork to do if I want the Mustangs to pay me, and believe me, I want them to pay me.”

  “Oh. Well…are you done?”

  “All done. And even if I wasn’t, I’d tell them to go to hell before I’d turn down an opportunity to spend time with you.”

  His voice was like a sensual caress that made her skin tingle and her lady parts wish a relationship with him could be real. He was new in town, and he probably needed a friend. Her lady parts would just have to settle for what they could get.