She looked up at Hunter, then broke the eye contact. “At the time, it was more important to go along with my father than, well you know?”
“I’m sorry. I really don’t know. Why would your father have anything to do with your relationship with Marco?” And then she realized the other woman’s problem.
“My father would have flipped if I brought home a Mexican guy. The illegitimate son of a maid.” She sounded horrified, but Hunter wasn’t sure if it was at Marco’s heritage or her father’s prejudice. “As far as he was concerned, someone like Marco was only good for one thing. Cheap labor.”
Cheap? She would have to come up with several million more than he was making this year if she wanted to keep him.
“He had his opinions about immigration. Let them come here to tend crops, mow lawns, make beds.” Annabelle rolled her eyes, as if she knew his attitude was wrong, but she couldn’t do anything about it. “You know, the jobs real Americans wouldn’t want.”
“Marco’s a real American. Just like us.” Anger burned at the assumption that certain jobs were only for certain kinds of people. That one’s race, or gender, would preclude someone from being able to perform.
“I know that. You know that.” Annabelle shrugged, as if ignorance was no big deal. “But I knew my modeling career would be short lived, so I couldn’t afford to be cut off. You know, with nothing but my face, and my body to support me.”
“Your father would have cut you off if you’d gotten serious with Marco?”
“He would have cut me off if he’d even found out I was dating Marco.” She leaned closer, as if she was about to reveal a huge secret. “I wasn’t twenty-one yet, so I had that as an excuse for not going to clubs and places where we’d be photographed.”
“So what did you do together?” She shouldn’t have asked.
“I’d watch his games. Then we’d hang out. Order room service.” Annabelle sighed deeply.
Hunter really shouldn’t have asked.
“But mostly we’d talk. He was the first guy who actually noticed I had a brain. And interests of my own.” She fidgeted with her sunglasses, twirling them around by one earpiece. “You know, he’s really smart, too. He’d been working on finishing his degree even while playing in the minors. Did you know that?”
“Yes. I did.”
“He wanted to be sure he had something to fall back on. Wanted to make sure he could take care of his mother.”
Was there something wrong with his mother? Maybe that was something else adding to his distraction.
“She always took care of him, sometimes working two jobs to make ends meet. The biggest reason he wanted to make the big leagues was so that she’d never have to worry about money again.” She sighed. “Isn’t that sweet?”
“Yes. That is sweet.” Hunter’s heart did a crazy little lurch, both at the thought of Marco as a mama’s boy and the reminder of her own loss.
“I forget sometimes that not everyone grows up like we did.” Annabelle placed her sunglasses on the top of her head, like a headband.
“I’m pretty sure most people didn’t grow up like I did.” Hunter had mixed feelings about her childhood. “When I was a kid, of course, I thought everyone spent all their spare time at the ballpark. Then as I got older, I realized I was missing out on things. A dinner table. Chores. A mom.”
“That’s right. You lost your mom when you were little. Like six or seven?”
“Seven.” But her mother had been almost a ghost even before then. She was often shut up in her room with the blinds closed, not feeling well or too tired to play with Hunter most of the time.
“And twenty years later, you lost your father. I’m so sorry.”
“Yes. Well, it is what it is.” Hunter blinked back the tears and started shuffling some papers on her desk.”
“At least you had a great relationship with your father.” Now Annabelle was the one to blink back tears. “The kind every girl dreams of.”
“I don’t know about that. I always got the feeling he wished I’d been a boy.” Hunter knew she was loved, but he’d loved the game more. “And I don’t know how many girls wished they could spend their childhoods in a locker room full of sweaty men only to be banned once they got their breasts.”
“He was just trying to protect you. At least your boobs aren’t sitting in your father’s friends’ desk drawers. Or worse, framed in their office.” She shuddered. “When I graduated high school, my father couldn’t tear himself away from work to show up. But when I made the cover you’d think he was the one who spent hours out in the freezing cold wearing nothing but a skimpy piece of cloth and being spritzed with cold water to make it look like sweat.”
“Aren’t you proud of your work?”
Annabelle gave her a puzzled look. “You’re the first person to realize modeling is actually a job. No. I guess you’d be the second.”
One good guess at the first. Marco.
“So? Are you proud of your work?”
“Yes,” Annabelle said softly. “Yes, I am proud of my work. And it was hard work. You have no idea how hard it is to try and look sexy when there are all these people watching you and giving you directions. Sometimes it was hard not to feel ridiculous.”
“But you pulled it off. Beautifully.” Hunter didn’t even try to hide her admiration of the other woman’s looks. “You still could.”
“Thank you. That’s sweet. But I’d have to train, like ninety hours a week, in order to get that body back. When would I spend time with my girls?”
“How are Sophie and Olivia?”
“Priceless.” There was genuine awe in their mother’s voice. “I can’t believe they start school in only a few weeks. They’re off with some friends we met at the twins’ group. We’re taking turns, so the mommies can get used to the idea of having a few hours to ourselves each day.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“It’s killing me.”
They chatted for a few minutes more. But it was clear that Annabelle was anxious to go pick up her twin princesses.
“Maybe sometime we could go shopping together.” Annabelle stood and offered a hopeful smile.
“Shopping?” Right, like Hunter wanted to step into a dressing room with the former model. “I’m not really much of a shopper.”
“Oh, I just thought maybe you were still in mourning or something.” She cast a glance over Hunter’s wardrobe.
Yes. It was dull. Hadn’t Marco mentioned her colorless wardrobe a time or two or every time they were alone? But she hadn’t realized it was that bad. That someone would think she was in mourning.
“I guess I could use a little update, but nothing too flashy.” She still had to fit into a man’s world.
* * * *
Marco figured he had nothing to lose. He should be able to relax at the plate. No pressure. Right?
Wrong.
Hunter was back in her front row seat. She had her usual drab suit buttoned up tight. Her hair pulled back. The only color was a blush that appeared on her cheeks when he caught her eye.
Damn. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. About how she tasted. How she felt. How she responded.
What the hell had he been thinking? That he’d be satisfied with one kiss? No way. He wanted her more than ever. His suspicions had been confirmed. She was a fireball underneath all that gray.
He struck out looking in his first at bat. Didn’t even get a swing off. He couldn’t look at her as he walked back to the dugout. He knew he’d let her down. So yeah, he still had something to lose.
Her respect.
It only got worse. A misplay in the outfield cost them a run. He struck out swinging in the fourth, killing a rally that would have at least tied the game. Then in the bottom of the ninth, with two on and one out, he grounded into a game ending double play.
He couldn’t remember a worse performance in twenty years of playing baseball. Not even the time he was in Little League and forgot he was the runner. W
hen the next batter hit a slow roller to first base, Marco had picked up the ball and proudly stepped on the bag, making an out for the other team.
His Goliaths teammates tried to boost him up. They’d all been there. Every man in that clubhouse had been the goat at one time or another. The only way to not fail at this game was to not play it.
Marco took a long shower. As he watched the water swirl down the drain, he couldn’t help but wonder if his career might be heading in the same direction.
He’d never had a slump last this long. Never been so distracted that he couldn’t just work it out in the cage. But this time it seemed like the harder he tried, the worse he performed. The more he wanted to impress Hunter, the more he let her down.
Oh, yeah, he was screwed.
By the time he got out of the shower, the locker room was nearly empty. Only his manager was still around. He called Marco into his office.
“What’s up?” Like Marco needed to ask.
“I’ve noticed you’re always the first one to the ballpark. The last to leave.” Javier had been an all-star catcher back in his day. He’d also been traded a time or two before finally calling it quits due to injury. “You’re work ethic is admirable.”
“I try.” Marco shrugged.
“Maybe you’re trying too hard,” Javier echoed Hunter’s words. “Do me a favor. Take tomorrow off.”
“You’re benching me?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but still… It was a blow to the old ego. He hadn’t been benched since junior high, when they still had mandatory playing time.
“No. I mean take tomorrow off from the extra batting practice.” Javier put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t come to the ballpark until you have to. Take a cable car ride. Go see a movie. Do something not related to baseball.”
“Yeah. I’ll think of something.” Marco wasn’t sure if it would help, because it wasn’t baseball that was screwing with his head.
“There’s your problem right there.” Javier tapped his forehead. “You’re thinking too much. You need to relax. I know it’s hard coming to a new city. A new clubhouse. A new routine. You need to find some way to ease the tension.”
“Yeah. Well, I usually do that by hitting the batting cage.”
“Try something else.” Marco didn’t need his manager telling him he needed to get laid. He’d been fine for months without sex. Had the best start of his career by forgetting about women. Focusing on his career. Working out a little more on the off-season. Coming into spring training leaner, stronger, and ready to make a run for it.
Sex was the furthest thing from his mind.
Until he set foot in that limo. Until he met Hunter Collins. Until he kissed her and only made things worse.
* * * *
Hunter wasn’t surprised to find Marco was the last one in the clubhouse. He’d been the first to arrive, the last to leave every day since he joined the team. He worked harder than any other player, but he wasn’t getting the results they’d hoped for. He was officially in a major slump.
Looking at him hunched in front of his locker, it was easy to see why. The tension in his shoulders was obvious even from clear across the room. No wonder he couldn’t get a good swing off. He was too tight. Too wound up.
She needed to help him loosen up.
The carpet softened the sound of her footsteps. But he was so far into his own head, she doubted he would have heard her approach wearing tap shoes on ceramic tile.
She placed her hands on his shoulders, and he tensed even more.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was just as tight as his shoulders.
“Trying to help you relax.” She slowly started to knead his rock hard muscles. They didn’t give. She tried again, but she didn’t have enough strength in her fingers.
He held his body stiff, unable or unwilling to give in to her.
She moved her hands to rub the back of his neck. Then she ran her fingers through his thick dark hair and started massaging his scalp.
A nearly inaudible groan came from deep in his throat.
Progress.
She moved closer, her breasts pressed against his back. His muscles tightened. The opposite of what she was trying to do.
“Marco,” she whispered into his ear. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She brushed her lips across his neck, just below his ear and he trembled.
He smelled so good. She couldn’t help herself. She flicked her tongue out to taste him.
“Mmmmm.” That’s better. Some of his tension released as she moved her mouth down his neck.
“You’re going to kill me, woman.” He groaned.
“I think I’d rather seduce you.”
He reached around, pulled her onto his lap, and captured her mouth with his.
She dug her fingers through his hair as he plunged his tongue in her mouth. She could taste his desperation, his need to prove himself to her.
He grabbed her hips and positioned her over the thick hard ridge of his erection. She was getting through to him. As he deepened the kiss, she moved against him, sending little quivers of pleasure straight through her body. Even through their clothes, she could feel him throbbing. Straining. Pressing her into him. Bringing her to the edge before lifting her to her feet.
“Let’s get out of here.” Marco’s voice was rough, desperate, as he tugged on her arm, leading her to the door.
“I’ll drive to the hotel,” she suggested, wanting to finish what they’d started.
“I found an apartment.” He threw open the door. “It’s just down the street.”
“Great. That’s just great.” She was excited for him. Excited for them, because she didn’t want to sit through traffic.
* * * *
Once he got her inside the building, Marco pressed the button for the elevator, but when it didn’t provide immediate gratification, he yanked her toward the stairwell. Together they sprinted up the three flights of stairs and burst into the hallway leading to his apartment.
“I’m subletting the place from Johnny Scottsdale,” Marco told her as he fumbled for his keys. He found the right one and slid it into the lock. He turned the key and shoved the door open.
He pushed Hunter against the door and pressed his mouth to hers. She opened, allowing him inside. He clutched the back of her head, pulling her closer. He felt around for a way to let her hair down, but he couldn’t quite get a grasp on whatever held the knot of her hair so tightly.
She groaned, wrapping her leg around his and sliding up his thigh. She was as needy as he was. He lifted her and she encircled his waist with those long legs of hers. They moved together toward the bedroom where he dropped her to the king sized bed.
“Did I ever tell you how much I hate this suit?” Marco kissed her neck as he unbuttoned her jacket and slid it down her shoulders. He went to work on her blouse, but didn’t get past the second button before becoming too impatient and popping the buttons off.
“Oh. White cotton.” He shook his head, tsking under his breath before unhooking the front clasp of her bra. “I was kind of hoping for something more exotic.”
“This is the real me.” She sounded almost apologetic.
“Mmm, beautiful,” he murmured as he drew her nipple into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the tight pink bud and grazed his teeth over her flesh, just enough to make her squirm beneath him, but not enough to hurt her.
“You’re so hot.” He moaned, moving his mouth across her skin so he could give her other breast the same attention. “So, damned hot.”
She made sexy little noises as he moved his hands and his mouth down her body. After undoing the top button of her slacks, he kissed a trail down her belly as he slid the zipper down and pulled her pants off.
“More white cotton. We’ll have to do something about that.” He grinned as he slipped his hand beneath her panties.
“Marco.” She gasped when he slid one finger into her center. She was so wet. So ready. And so responsive. He’d barely got
ten a feel for her when she started to buck against his hand. She whimpered and shuddered as an orgasm overtook her. “Oh my. I wasn’t quite ready for that.”
“Well, get ready.” Marco reached for a condom from the bedside drawer. “Because I’m just getting started.”
“You can start by getting naked.” Her voice was so sexy and seductive.
“You’re the boss.” Marco tore his shirt over his head while she reached for his jeans. She undid the buttons and zipper and shoved his jeans down over his hips.
She licked her lips as she slid her hands beneath the elastic waistband.
“Oh my.” Her eyes widened at the sight of his erection. “Oh my, my, my.”
“This is what you do to me.” Marco groaned as she wrapped her hand around him.
She fumbled with the condom, so he took it from her and made quick work of covering himself. He knelt between her legs, placing his hands beneath her thighs, he lifted her hips for easier access.
She gasped as he slid inside. She was tight, almost too tight. He withdrew, and then pushed again. Slowly, carefully, he eased into her.
“Please don’t tell me you’re a virgin.” He laughed, hoping like hell that he wasn’t hurting her.
“No.” She shifted her hips, drawing him deeper. “It’s just been a while.”
He relaxed. Thank God. He thrust a little harder. Once, twice, a third time. He was just starting to find his rhythm.
“Oh hell no!” He pulled out suddenly. “I’m sorry. It broke.”
He pulled the remains of the condom off, swearing in a combination of English and Spanish. “I think we’re still okay. I didn’t… I wasn’t close.”
“Relax, Marco.” Her face softened into a smile. “I’m on the pill.”
“Oh. Okay.” He breathed a small sigh of relief. “And I’m… You don’t have to worry about anything else.”
“I know. I trust you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him back toward the bed. “Now. Where were we?”
She trusted him. Even now. She’d come to him tonight because she believed in him. She knew what he needed and she’d given it to him. He grabbed another condom. If only to keep the sensation down. He was a lot closer to losing control than he’d like to admit.
Worth the Trade (More Than A Game) Page 7