by Maria Geraci
He thought she worked for the Bucks? Wait. That old scarred-up piece of wood had a name? Okay. So, this was strange, but maybe all ball players named their bats. She’d never been introduced to an inanimate object before, but what the heck. “Um, hello, Sweet Lucy.”
He cocked a brow up in the air. “You think I’m weird.”
“No, of course not. I’m sure you’re not the only professional baseball player who, you know, reveres their equipment.” He grinned and she realized how provocative that sounded. “What I meant was—”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Absolutely not.”
He smiled at her knowingly and she was once again hit with the realization that this man was more than just way out of her league. According to her research, women were constantly throwing themselves at him. One wrong word on her part and he’d probably think she was part of the Brian Callahan fan club. Maybe she shouldn’t smile quite so much.
She picked up her pace. The sooner they got out of the airport, the sooner they could have the talk she’d spent the entire morning rehearsing. “Is it just one bag or did you check anymore bats or”—nope, she wasn’t going to use the word equipment—“gloves or balls or anything?”
His eyes gleamed with unshed laughter. “I prefer to travel with my balls on me.”
Her face shot up in flames. Ack! Felicity would be so much better at this. For one thing, she actually liked baseball. She decided to ignore his little double entendre and concentrate on something safe. “Has Sweet Lucy been with you a long time?”
“Just since forever.” He looked at her strangely as if it was something she should already know. Aubrey made a mental note to go through his bio again.
She put in a claim for his bag at the airline counter, then the two of them walked outside the airport and into the parking lot.
“God almighty,” Brian said, “I’d forgotten how humid Florida is.”
“I guess it must be about as different from Arizona as you can get.”
“Ever been?” he asked.
“Just the perfunctory family vacation to the Grand Canyon when I was twelve. We took one of those mule caravans. Then we drove down to Tombstone. My brother loved the reenactment of the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.”
“Tourist stuff,” he said. “Maybe you’ll let me show you the real Arizona.”
Or maybe not. If she ignored his flirting, then eventually he’d get the message and stop. She unlocked the door to her Jeep.
“This is your car?”
“Yep.” She hesitated bringing it up, but she probably had to say it. “We can get you your own car, if you like, but I’m more than happy to play chauffeur.” If he had his own vehicle, he’d be harder to keep track of. She really hoped he wouldn’t want to go that route.
“You want to drive me around for the next four weeks? That’s one sweet offer, but, really, there’s no need. I’m sure the team keeps you pretty busy.” He placed the bag containing Sweet Lucy into the back of the car and got in the passenger seat. “If you can take me to the nearest car rental agency then I can take it from there. Maybe you can recommend a hotel?”
Hotel? Didn’t he know that his agent had arranged for him to stay at the Casa Blanca Resort & Spa?
Aubrey placed the key into the ignition, but before she turned on the car she wanted to make sure they were on the same page. “Mr. Callahan—”
“Call me Brian.” He seemed friendly enough, but there was a sliver of wariness in his brown eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“Okay. Brian. Mr. Durant has gone to a lot of trouble to arrange—”
“Hold on. You’ve talked to Phil?”
“Of course. He’s the one who hired me.”
“Hired you?” He frowned. “You don’t work for the Bucks?”
“No, like I said, I’ve been hired by Mr. Durant. He didn’t tell you?”
“He hasn’t told me shit.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his friendly demeanor now completely gone. “So, you lied to me when you showed up here acting like you worked for the Bucks.”
“Lied? I’m sorry if there’s been some kind of miscommunication, but I never said I worked for the Bucks. I’m part-owner of a public relations firm in Mimosa Key and your agent has hired us to, um, to help you navigate through the next four weeks.”
There was a split second of silence before he laughed, but it wasn’t a ha-ha laugh. It was more like a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding me laugh. “Help me navigate? You mean, babysit me?”
Aubrey took a deep breath. She hadn’t expected this kind of attitude from him. “Mr. Durant is concerned that you present the most polished appearance possible. He says you’re about to enter contract negotiations and—”
“Stop right there, sweetheart. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a big boy. No need to sugarcoat anything. I know damn well that I’m about to go up for a contract renewal.”
Oh, boy. This was going from bad to worse. Maybe it was best to lay all her cards on the table. “Let’s be straight with one another.”
“Good idea.”
She reached into her tote and pulled out a folder. “I spent all last night researching you and the best approach to take with your situation.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “The project goal is right there at the top. As well as a list of activities that you should refrain from.”
He looked down at the paper. “Brian Callahan will spend the next four weeks playing minor league baseball with the Barefoot Bay Bucks. Over the course of this time period, Brian will establish himself as a solid, responsible citizen-player who—” He stopped reading and glared at her. “What the hell is a citizen-player? And what the fuck is this?”
“No need to get upset. This clearly outlines all the expectations on both our sides. Yours and mine. As you can see, my cell phone number is at the bottom of the page. I’ll be available twenty-four seven to help you in any capacity you might need. I’m a professional. You can trust me.”
He glanced back at the sheet. “Brian Callahan will limit himself to two alcoholic beverages a day,” he read incredulously.
“That’s bullet point number four. I thought that under recent circumstances, it would be for the best.”
“And you’re going to monitor all this?” Before she could answer, he ripped the paper in two. “Thanks, but no thanks. Just drop me off at the nearest rental car agency.”
“But—”
“Or I can walk. Your choice.”
“Mr. Callahan, please, calm down. I’m here to help you.”
“Mr. Callahan is my father and if you really want to help me, then drive me to a rental car agency. I’m not gonna say that again.” The hard edge in his voice told her that the conversation, as she knew it, was over.
Aubrey tried to quell the shaking in her hands. She gripped the steering wheel and put the car in Drive. “Of course. I’ll be happy to take you wherever you want to go. And, after you get your car, you can follow me to the Casa Blanca Resort. Mr. Durant has already booked you into a gulf-side villa for the next four weeks. You won’t find a nicer place to stay for miles.”
He didn’t respond, so she took that as some form of yes. The two-minute drive to the rental agency was filled with the most uncomfortable silence of her life. She parked her Jeep in the closest space to the front door and turned in her seat to face him, but before she could say anything, he dug into his wallet and tossed two bills onto the console.
“That’s for your time. Now consider yourself officially fired. Thanks for the ride, but believe it or not, I can wing it from here.”
“But…”
He grabbed the bag containing Sweet Lucy and was out of her car before she could finish her sentence. He didn’t even turn around or wave or anything.
And just like that, she’d been dismissed.
What on earth was she going to tell Felicity? They’d already been paid half the fee for this job. They’d have to return it, of course, except… No. She wasn’t returning anything.
She glanced down at the two one hundred bills he’d so arrogantly left for her. Is that really what he thought her time was worth? Between all the hours she’d spent last night researching and preparing, and the half day she’d spent on him already, that probably came out to less than ten dollars an hour.
She squelched the urge to run after him and throw his money back in his face. She wasn’t about to let him goad her. Brian Callahan might not want a babysitter, but she’d been hired to do a job and, whether he liked it or not, she was going to do it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Aubrey Adams hadn’t exaggerated. The Casa Blanca Resort & Spa in Barefoot Bay was first class all the way. His fully-loaded villa faced the clear blue water of the Gulf of Mexico and had its own private swimming pool. He’d hadn’t even had to use the rental car’s GPS. All roads in Mimosa Key pointed the way to the resort. The drive from the Fort Meyers airport had been scenic and might have even been pleasant, except for the fact that Aubrey Adams had the audacity to follow him all the way here. Every time he’d glanced in the car’s rearview mirror, there she was, driving that yellow Jeep of hers. She had some gall. What was it about the word “fired” that didn’t she understand?
He dialed his agent, who answered on the first ring. “Phil, this woman you’ve hired. She’s—”
“Yeah, I know. I Googled her. Don’t you think after all these years I don’t know your type? You can thank me later. After we get the new contract.”
His type? His type was sweet and soft-spoken. Not a duplicitous walking computer with breasts. Nice breasts, to be sure, but, no. She and her “project report” could take a long hike off a short pier straight into the gulf.
“I wasn’t going to thank you. I want you to fire her. For one thing, I don’t need a babysitter. Plus, she’s bossy as hell. Do you know she had the balls to give me a list of what I can and can’t do?”
“Good. That’s what I hired her for. Okay, so maybe she’s not your type. But the woman’s not your match.com date, she’s your fucking ticket to a bigger and better contract. Do you have any idea how hard I’m negotiating for you? Brian, I’m getting you more money than any other player in the league.”
“I don’t need more money, I just need to stay with the Bombers.”
“So you say now. Wait till you’re forty and all the endorsements have dried up and you’re looking at the next forty years living off the investments that maybe haven’t done as well as you’d hoped. Everybody needs more money.”
“Are you negotiating with other teams? Because if you are, this conversation is over.”
There was a pause. “The Bombers need a healthy bull pen. And right now, every team in the league wants you, except the Bombers. They want to trade you to Atlanta for Brett Harris, but I’m working hard to make sure that doesn’t happen and still get you the contract you deserve.”
They wanted to trade him?
Nothing about this moment felt real. It was like a bad dream, except, deep down, he’d suspected this. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how baseball worked and, in this day and age, it was rare for a professional ball player to spend his entire career with the same team. The past eight years had been an anomaly. He knew Phil was right. He should take care of himself and go for the biggest money, but it had never been about the money for him. It had always been about the game. And the team.
“Is Neil Jorgenson staying with the team?” he managed to ask.
Phil’s deep sigh was all the answer he needed.
“Shit.”
“It’s a business, Brian. The owners want to make money and to do that, the team needs to win.”
“Does Neil know?”
“He does. After this season he’ll take a nice retirement option. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”
So that was it.
He’d played his last game under Neil Jorgenson and he hadn’t even known it.
The knowledge of what his stupidity had cost him cut to the bone. He’d lost the next four weeks of his career and the chance to play under Neil one last time. To play with Pedro. To be with his team when they needed him most.
“You still there?” Phil asked.
“Where else would I be?”
“Look, I’ll talk to the new owners and see what I can work out. Maybe I can get you back for the last game of the season.”
“If you could make that happen, I’d be grateful.”
“Then do me a favor. Humor me with this Aubrey Adams. I went to law school with her partner’s fiancé and their PR firm needs the business. Whatever she has planned, it can’t be that bad. Just play nice and next few weeks will fly by. Then you’ll be home in Tucson and we’ll be back in business again.”
#
Following Brian Callahan’s every move while trying to stay inconspicuous was going to be difficult. For one thing, he wasn’t stupid. He’d known she was following him the entire way to the resort. She’d watched from a discreet distance while he’d checked into his villa. Everywhere he went, he created a sensation. People either recognized him or they simply stopped to stare because there was something about him that screamed “celebrity.”
What would that be like, she wondered. To have your every move watched and possibly criticized? She wouldn’t like it one bit. But he’d been a professional athlete for eight years now. He must be used to it.
Not sure what to do at the moment, Aubrey was hanging out in the resort’s elegant Moroccan-inspired lobby when she noticed Lacey Walker coming toward her. Lacey and her architect husband, Clay, were the owners of Casa Blanca. Aubrey had met with her, along with Emma Solomon, the resort’s new marketing manager, when she and Felicity had made their first official presentation to the Barefoot Brides. Emma was in charge of PR for the resort, but the upscale bridal consultants were still looking for their own marketing firm. Hopefully, Reed and Adams would be the one to get their business.
“Aubrey,” Lacey said, smiling kindly. “How are you? Did you have an appointment today?”
“Not exactly,” Aubrey admitted, “although I wouldn’t mind poking my head in to say hello to Willow or Gussie or Ari. I’m actually here on another job.”
Lacey waited patiently for her to continue.
“I’m sort of stalking Brian Callahan.” At Lacey’s worried expression, Aubrey went on to explain how he’d “fired” her, even though he hadn’t been the one to officially hire her in the first place.
“When I saw his name on the reservation I have to admit, I was concerned about potential problems,” Lacey said. “We’ve had celebrities stay here, of course, like Willow’s parents, but Brian Callahan is in a different league altogether. The resort prides itself on providing our guests with the utmost privacy and if he doesn’t want you here, then…”
Lacey didn’t have to finish her sentence. Guest satisfaction was a number one priority at Casa Blanca. Aubrey would just have to find some other way to keep tabs on “Boom-Boom.”
“I get it. I’ll just poke my head in the bridal office and say hi on my way out the door.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Lacey placed her hand on Aubrey’s shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze before walking away.
The Barefoot Brides office was located off the resort lobby. She knocked on the door and was greeted by a sunny sounding, “Come in!”
She opened the door to find Willow Hershey working on her laptop. Willow and her partners, Ari McBain and Gussie DeMille, were the talented trio that made up the all-inclusive destination wedding planning service. “Aubrey!” She motioned to a chair on the other side of her desk. “Have a seat. How are my favorite almost-married couple?” she asked referring to Jack and Felicity.
“Nauseatingly still-in-love, but then it’s barely been a month.”
“Time is meaningless when it comes to love. I’ve seen a lot of couples over the past years and, I have to say, I think Jack and Felicity are the real deal.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Not that Aubrey didn’t think so, too, she was just glad tha
t they’d decided to wait six months before actually tying the knot.
“So, what brings you to Casa Blanca?”
She went on to tell Willow the same story she’d just told Lacey.
“Oh my God, wait till Nick finds out that Boom-Boom Callahan is here in town! He’ll go all crazy fan boy on him.” Willow’s husband, Nick Hershey, was a former navy SEAL who now wrote popular fiction. Aubrey had seen him jogging once near the bridge. He was handsome and the two of them made a striking couple.
“I didn’t realize until today that this baseball player was that big a deal,” Aubrey muttered.
Willow laughed. “That big a deal? He’s huge. And to think that he’ll be here playing with the Bucks! The stadium is going to be packed.” She frowned. “Shoot. I better get some tickets now before they sell out. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Of course. So, have you had a chance to talk to Gussie and Ari about our proposal? We’ve got so many ideas for your company, and frankly, we’d work like crazy to keep you happy.”
Willow shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I think what we’ve seen already is terrific, the thing is, we’ve been approached by another firm that’s pretty much promised us a write-up in Brides magazine. Not that your company is out of the running,” she rushed to add, “but it’s hard to turn away that kind of publicity.”
Brides magazine? She’d liked to know who had dangled that carrot in front of them, but more importantly, she’d love to tell Willow that Reed and Adams could do the same. However, they didn’t have a contact at Brides, and Aubrey didn’t want to promise something she couldn’t deliver.
“I totally understand,” Aubrey said. “I’m just glad we still have a shot.” It occurred to her that while this other unknown firm had been actively pursuing the bridal consultants, maybe she and Felicity hadn’t been aggressive enough in their approach. “You know what I’d like to do? I’d really love to follow the three of you through a typical wedding. All the way from the ceremony to the end of the reception. It would give me a perspective for what it is you really do during the event. I know most of the work is done beforehand, but I have to admit to not knowing exactly what goes on behind the scenes.”