"Damn, girl. Figured you lived somewhere nice, but this address caught me off guard. Guess you meant it about not taking that cut in pay."
Eric grinned wolfishly at her from the hallway, having been out of sight next to the door. Andi cocked her head at Brad first, and he answered the unasked question.
"Come on, Andi. We spent the first week on the road, and both of us well aware that we had something in common besides the trade. We were going to talk. You must have expected that."
"Yes, actually I did. And since both of you are well aware of my feelings about dating hometown players, I even expected you would talk about tonight, despite my not mentioning the other in the invitations. But I must admit, I didn't expect you to arrive together."
"Hell," replied Eric, "we shared a cab. Ballclub's got us in the same hotel 'til we get settled. Why waste time and money? So, you gonna invite us in or were we gonna have this chat in the hallway?"
Andi shook her head at the camaraderie between the two men. It was very nearly the last thing she had expected. She stepped back, opening the door wide and gesturing an invitation to a place where literally no player had gone before. Eric grinned. "After you, Ivy." "Nope. Age before beauty, fireman. Now get your ass inside. I smell food, and I really need a drink." Brad pushed the Nordic reliever in the back, and Eric playfully pretended to stumble inside, despite the fact that he easily outweighed Brad by fifty pounds or more. The smaller man followed. Both stopped to give Andi a squeeze on the way in, hugs she returned while laughing at the way Eric's hand snuck around to grab her ass and Brad sneakily kissed her cheek.
Andi closed the door and turned to find them both looking at her. She simply stood and returned their gaze for a moment. As the silence continued, she watched Eric's right hand as he rubbed his thumb and index finger together and noticed Brad's posture with the exaggerated casualness. Thus reassured that they were both at least as nervous as she, if not more so, she recovered from her momentary confusion and led the way into the dining room with her normal confidence.
The dining room table rivaled a Chinese restaurant's buffet, and Andi winced at the overkill. Having never given even a passing thought to either man's preferences outside of those relating to sex, she'd had a tough time deciding what to order. Six different main courses, assorted egg rolls, crab puffs, both egg drop and wonton soups, and fried noodles with dipping sauces adorned the lacquered surface. She'd be eating leftovers for a month.
"Expecting more company?" Brad teased, reaching for the wine. He turned to Eric. "I wasn't aware of any more last minute trades on the Spring roster. You?"
"Not to the Cubs, anyway. That catcher—Brooks—moved to Atlanta but, other than him—and us, of course—I think her line-up's unchanged. Am I right, sweets?"
"You two rehearsed this, didn't you? I'm not sure what you hoped to accomplish by poking fun at me, but I hope you're enjoying yourselves." Andi pointed to the plates on the far end of the table. "I thought we'd eat on the patio, since it's such a nice evening."
Brad grinned, evidently seeing right through her stated rationale to its core. "That way, we can avoid any mixed signals based on the seating arrangement at the dinner table. How very clever of you."
"This isn't easy for me, you know." Andi's temper flared. She immediately reigned it in, refusing to allow things to go in that direction, but not before Eric picked it up and ran with it.
"What's not easy? A kiss-off dinner party? Oh, c'mon, Andi. We're not your average fuck buddies. Give us some credit for…"
Her hearty laughter cut off his nascent rant. "Is that what you think this is about?"
The surprised look on both of their faces told her that was exactly what they expected, and she took comfort in the fact that they respected her personal rules to the extent that they thought them inviolable. It assuaged her guilt for breaking them while reinforcing her decision.
Brad recovered first. "You mean it's not? We figured you were gonna give us our pink slips after a good dinner—and maybe some, um, dessert—to soften the blow."
While he seemed both puzzled and relieved, Eric's mind jumped ahead on another track. "No way! I am not sticking around for some sort of Annie Savoy speech. I don't care if you do give the best head I've ever gotten, if you're gonna turn this into some sort of try-out, I'll simplify things for you right now." Andi opened her mouth to speak, but Brad beat her to it. "Shut up, Crash!" He put his hand on Eric's shoulder to calm him. "I think this woman's about to surprise us both. That is, if you don't screw it up first. Here…have some wine."
"Yes, wine—and dinner. No dessert, though. Not tonight, anyway. We have much to discuss before we're ready for that." Andi picked up a plate and began to fill it, motioning for the men to follow suit.
"Fine by me," Eric chimed. "I wouldn't know what to do, anyhow. I might accidentally kiss Brad, seeing as how Andi's the more muscular of you two. That would just make for such an awkward shower scene…"
"Fuck you, fireman…and that is not an offer. Andi, how have you put up with this man-child for so long? Andi?"
Andi shook her head to chase the image from her mind. She had seen Jay David kiss many men, even sat next to him and Sebastian in a cab wile they engaged in a make-out session that could have gotten all three of them arrested. It didn't faze her a bit. So why had the thought of Eric kissing Brad driven such her to such distraction?
"Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. Brad, if I can listen to you talk for an hour at the Art Institute about the difference between Manet and Monet, I can put up with Eric's Spongebob-level sense of humor. Actually, it's the differences between the two of you that led to this decision. Shall we?"
She led the way out to the balcony, where three chairs waited around a small round table just big enough for the wine and three glasses. The need to watch the plates on their laps, she figured, would help keep things from getting too animated.
A few minutes later, after the edge had been taken off all three hungers and Brad had slammed one glass of wine and was halfway through a second, she began her explanation.
"It's actually pretty simple. I'm a selfish bitch, and I don't intend to give up my two favorites. You're both unique and very special to me. Did you know there are only three players who have ever had my work email and two of them are here now?" "Who's the third?" Eric interrupted. "He's in Japan," replied Brad, which earned him a stare from both of
the other parties. "Johnson, huh?" Brad nodded to Eric while he popped another shrimp into his mouth with his chopsticks. Eric tapped his fork on the plate. "Damn, never figured him. Andi, why…" Eric quieted when confronted with the brunette's glare.
Andi let him off the hook when he shut up and turned her attention to the suddenly contrite Moreno. "What have you been doing, hiring P.I.s to follow me around?"
Brad smiled. "First off, I never knew your address before now. Second, it wasn't that hard. It became almost like a game to me, really. I'd figure out who you'd been with by analyzing the performances of visiting players compared to their stats in other road cities. Piece of cake."
"Oh fuck! Brad, you are the last one I ever expected to go in for that bullshit. I may play it for my own advantage, but it's not like I really have any kind of magical powers. Please!"
"I don't know, babe. Brad here isn't the only one to notice it. That whole thing with Snyder was because of…" "ENOUGH!" "Andi, magic is just science we don't understand yet." "I said enough, Brad! Like I was saying, I don't intend to give either of you up. The first question is whether or not you two can deal with that." "We talked about it," said Eric. "Why am I not surprised? And you decided?" "Well, it was more of a 'Wouldn't it be nice if…' conversation, but we decided that we're selfish, too. We figured we could share on one condition: no visiting players. Not for the rest of the season." Brad winced as he said the last, the look in his eyes saying that he expected her to rebel. Andi didn't disappoint him.
"Whoa…I make my own rules of engagement. Always have, always will. You've both kn
own that from the beginning and never complained. Why do you think you can make an ultimatum now?" Andi had tried to put a certain disdain in her voice, but she knew her curiosity was showing.
"Simple," said Eric, "We know we've got enough energy between the two of us to keep you happy. Right, Ivy League?" "Right, fireman." Andi fought to keep from laughing as the two bumped fists like high
school buddies. "And besides…" "Besides, what?" Andi managed to put more scorn into her voice. "Besides," said Eric, "you may not believe in it, but I do. You've got a special touch." Brad nodded in agreement as Eric continued. "I want a championship ring more than anything I've ever wanted in my whole life, even as much as I want Andrea Spring. Help me get one, Andi? Please?"
Andi shook her head again. "I've already decided that I want to keep seeing both of you, so any mojo you might believe I have isn't going to vanish now. However, I won't agree to your one condition. Sorry, but I refuse to be celibate while you're on the road. No can do." She paused, looking from one to the other and waiting for them to get the gist of her terms. As expected, Brad grasped the idea first.
"As long as you're not fucking someone I might have to face at the plate for a few days, I'm good." He looked to Eric for support and got a nod. "Besides, according to my calculations, your magic expires within forty-eight hours."
The eggroll that sailed across the room missed Brad's ear by less than an inch.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A package arrived for her by courier, the doorman informed her when she got home from work that evening, and if she called the building manager's office they'd send it up to her. Since her hands were free, she opted to swing by the office and pick it up rather than wait for delivery. Andi managed to stifle her raging curiosity until she got into the elevator with the box, where she sliced through the tape with her key as the car ascended.
Leather, her nose informed her once the seal was broken. Metal, her ears reported. Andi smiled at what she believed to be the contents of the box, although such a gift seemed out of character for its presumed giver. Placing the large box on the floor, she dug out her PDA and doublechecked the calendar to make sure she hadn't confused the dates.
The schedule confirmed her memory of plans with Brad. He'd won the coin toss and opted to bat first in Andi's new lineup. Her determination to give each man equal time amused them, but she was adamant. The commitment to extreme fairness would, she insisted, avoid tension between teammates.
Once inside her apartment, Andi dug into the box and collapsed onto the sofa giggling when she discovered what it held. The Cubs baseball jersey folded on top looked as if it would hold three of her, but the larger size beautifully accommodated the hyphenated Moreno-Olson stitched across its shoulders. And, in a twist Andi hadn't before noticed but found exquisitely appropriate, the sum of Brad's and Eric's numbers formed a bold 69 beneath their names. Trust Brad to note that particular detail.
She slipped out of her business attire and released her hair from its ornate combs. Pulling the jersey over her head, she bunched it to her face and inhaled deeply. Although brand new, the fabric smelled unmistakably of Brad's cologne. He might've taken pains to ensure the garment itself unbiased, but he seized the opportunity to infuse it with his scent. The jersey hung almost to her knees, but Andi felt sexy in it—far sexier than in any of the lingerie in her armoire. Going to the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. She poured for herself and set the wine down on the coffee table.
She sat on the sofa and pulled the box between her knees. Diving inside, Andi extracted the rest of its contents. The vintage catcher's chest protector was the source of the leather smell, and the steel of its complementary mask produced the metallic sounds as it brushed against the buckles of the vest. Both looked as if they should be hanging in a display case under glass.
A card dangled from the mask by a piece of red ribbon, and she laughed again as she read its message: If you're gonna catch for us, you should own the proper attire.
Andi held the chest protector up in front of her and examined it. It was different from what she was used to seeing, but something about it struck her as familiar. Something about the shape, perhaps. It made her think of black and white footage and Bugs Bunny cartoons about baseball. Today's catching gear hugged the body. This had more drape to it. And, it was heavy—far heavier than it appeared. The top of it was in more of a tank top style, leaving the arms free from the heavier impediment. A modern one would move better. The bottom had an extension that dangled down between the legs to protect the crotch. Didn't they have cups in the thirties?
The mask was even heavier. Rather than the straight lines and the colorful plastic-coating now common, the thick wire birdcage was a mixture of curves and angles with circular eyeholes and a faint hint of rust where the welds met. The padding was worn leather, thick and still carrying the musky scent of sweat from many summer afternoons in the dust.
An idea formed. Answering the door naked was somewhat cliché. Effective, but cliché. Even naked under the jersey wouldn't be that unusual. Brad appreciated originality. More importantly, it motivated him to top it. That would pay major dividends for her. She stood and slipped the jersey off as she walked to the bedroom closet. She hung everything up and then opened her lingerie drawer to find the right accessories. Walking back into the living room, she prepared for her visitor. She hoped he didn't have his heart set on going out for dinner. Although they could go out for a late snack when she was finished with him, if he insisted.
The doorbell rang and Andi set down her wine glass and pulled the mask over her face before going to answer. She looked through the peephole just to be sure. It was Brad, wearing a suit that cost more than many people made in a month, a red silk tie and designer sunglasses despite the dying sunlight. He looked every bit the 'smooth criminal' the Tribune had taken to calling him. He was alone.
She opened the door to an appreciative whistle. Andi wore a black garter belt and stockings to accentuate the chest protector, the only baseball glove she owned, and had ruined a perfectly good eyeliner in order to create eyeblack lines on her cheeks. She had put her only hat on backwards and slipped the mask over her head.
Brad stood in the hallway, lifted his shades to the top of his head and let his gaze do a slow crawl from her head to her toes and back again. She let him finish and enjoyed his bemused head shake before she reached out, grabbed him by the tie and pulled him inside.
"Looking damn fine there, catch." Brad ran his hand down her arm to the glove she wore. "But since when are you a lefty? Besides, that's not a catcher's glove."
"Leave off. It's the only glove I have." Andi stepped forward into him, making contact like it was accidental. She let her leg slide between his to catch the edge of the door and push it shut with a click. His eyes darted downward to the gap in the top of the protector and he smiled at the lack of a bra to block his view. The hungry look on his face combined with the harsh sensation of the coarse canvas backing against her nipples to send a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with air conditioning.
Brad's hands fell upon her shoulders before he traced the straps down her back and cupped both cheeks of her bare ass in his strong fingers. He gave a squeeze and then released so he could reach up and pull the mask away from her face. She slapped his hand away and did it herself, holding it in her hand while she kissed him.
Brad's mouth was impatient. Instead of the gentle kisses he often started with, he attacked her with passion, pulling her tongue into his mouth and then pushing it back to run his across her teeth and along the inner edge of her bottom lip. As he pulled away, he took that lip between his teeth and tugged.
Releasing her lip, he looked over to the empty box on the couch. "Where's the rest? Don't get me wrong, you look fantastic. But I didn't really intend for that to be worn. Do you realize what you have on? Bill Dickey wore that. I paid a pretty penny to a private collector. The Hall of Fame would love to display it. But honestly, I didn't think it was g
oing to be the baseball equipment that caught your eye." Andi gave him a questioning look. "What else should be in there?" A flash of nervousness crossed his face before he suppressed it. Someone less attuned to such things never would notice it, but for Andi it set alarm bells ringing. She spun around to walk back to the couch. Picking up the box, she immediately felt that it was not empty after all. The metal and leather of the catcher's mask fooled her. It weighed enough that as she pulled it out she thought it accounted for the heft of the package.
Reaching deep, Andi found resistance inside what she had taken for a mass of tissue paper. She turned the box upside down to be sure she emptied it this time. With a satisfying thud and a revealing clink, four items fell onto the carpet. Unwrapping the paper revealed four leather bands with silver D rings and two short lengths of chain. "Do you like them?" Brad asked, taking a seat beside her. "Oh yes," Andi purred, "They're going to look wonderful on you." Brad gulped and reached for the bottle to pour himself a glass of wine. "Why did I even bother to delude myself into thinking it would be the other way around? I don't know. I would say that I'm a glutton for punishment, but I think that putting any further ideas into your head might be, well, dangerous."
"Nice try, Bradley Moreno. I know you better. You do nothing by accident." Andi smiled and ran her nails up his finely-cut trousers, digging them in when she reached his thigh. "You don't forget, either. It's been almost two years since I suggested something like this and you ran like a scared rabbit. Why the reversal now?" "I didn't run." "No? Name one other night you left me without fucking me first. You ran, city boy. Tried to avoid me on the next trip, too, only I didn't let you. Now quit avoiding my question."
He took a deep breath, then turned and looked at her again, brown eyes sparking with intensity. "You left your comfort zone for me. I need to repay the favor."
Andi's tongue snaked out to run across her lip as she swung her leg over his lap and nestled there, knees straddling his hips and forearms on his shoulders. "I accept," she said as the bottom flap of the antique padding caught beneath her and dragged the rough canvas across her nipples. Her breath caught at the sensation. Brad chose that moment to try to recapture her tongue. Andi turned her head so he found her ear instead, which he dutifully proceeded to nibble and lick. She let him continue for a moment before taking the wineglass from his hand and twisting around to replace it on the table. "Time for wine later. Come, Bradley."
Double Header Page 6