Worth the Trade (More Than A Game)

by Kristina Mathews

  “So how much did she bet?” Marco couldn’t help but be curious. “Must have been a lot, for her to stoop so low as to fall into my bed.”

  “Ten percent.”

  “Ten percent of the postseason revenue?” Marco was impressed. Pretty ballsy of her.

  “No. Ten percent of the Goliaths.” The smug look on the man’s face told Marco that he had no idea how much she’d risked. Or how much she believed in her team. In him. Barry thought Marco would be insulted. Instead he was incredibly humbled. And even more determined to protect her from this creep.

  “Maybe you should up the bet.” Marco stood, facing the man. “What do you say to giving up your full share if we win it all?”

  “Yeah, right.” Barry laughed. “You expect me to just give away my share?”

  “Or you could sell it. Walk away with no questions asked.”

  “And why the hell would I do that?” Barry narrowed his gaze, but there was a hint of fear in his eyes. “You’ve got a lot of balls for someone whose contract is up at the end of the season. When everyone finds out you’ve been sleeping with Hunter Collins, I don’t see a whole lot of offers coming your way.”

  “You tell anyone about Hunter”—Marco stepped closer, towering over the other man by a good six or seven inches—“and I’ll tell Annabelle about why you’re here in Miami. Then I’ll make sure everyone knows about what FITNatural is really selling. The Player’s Association, Major League Baseball. The press.”

  The color drained from Barry’s face. He trembled as he stepped back.

  “I’m giving you a chance to get out before you’re forced out.” Marco kept his tone friendly, but gave him a look that let him know he meant business. “Annabelle was a friend of mine. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged through a major scandal. Neither do your daughters.”

  At the mention of his daughters, the other man deflated. He dropped his head into his hands, covering his eyes and then raking his fingers through his hair.

  “You stay away from my wife and children.” The threat contained no real force. Just defeat, as the man turned to leave.

  Marco had faced his opponent. He was ahead in the count. Now it was a matter of time before he’d find out what Clayton Barry would do next. Would he challenge him? Or would he do the right thing and take the walk?

  Marco couldn’t control what the other man did. He couldn’t control what his teammates did. He could only control what he did. He would do his part to win for his teammates, his fans, and most of all for Hunter.

  * * * *

  A soft tap on her office door interrupted Hunter’s focus. She was making the final travel arrangements for her minor league players so they could get to the ballpark in time for the game on Tuesday. She’d already booked her flight to St. Louis. If anyone asked, she was going along to make sure the rookies settled in okay.

  “Oh, you’re busy.” Annabelle took her sunglasses off the top of her head and twirled them by the earpiece. “I won’t bother you.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’m just being neurotic, making sure every detail I can control is, well, under control.”

  “So what details are you working on now?” Annabelle sat down in what was becoming her usual chair. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Just getting the September call-ups to the big club.” Hunter wondered if she needed to explain what that meant. She sometimes forgot that not everyone ate, slept, and breathed baseball.

  “I’ve been watching the games. Hoping to learn more about baseball.” Annabelle sounded proud of herself. “I know that you’re allowed to bring up extra players for the last month of the season. That’s what you mean by September call-ups.”

  “Yes. We’re bringing up seven guys. And I’m sure they’ll all make their flights. I just hate it when the team is away. I get so nervous. Like something could go wrong and I won’t be there to fix it.”

  “That’s how I feel when I’m away from my girls.” Annabelle gave a knowing smile. “But I suspect you’re missing Marco, too.”

  Hunter felt heat creep into her cheeks. Yeah. She missed him. But she wasn’t going to admit it. Not out loud.

  “Here I was thinking you’d be sitting back, relaxed, waiting for the team to win just a few more games before celebrating making the playoffs.” Annabelle’s smile faded a little. “But I guess there’s still plenty to do.”

  “Sure. And I haven’t been putting in as many hours in the evenings as I would normally.” They both knew Marco was the reason her nights were full.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Annabelle surprised her with the request. “I can make plane or hotel reservations. I can order equipment or the cute little hats that say ‘National League Champion.’ That’s kind of like shopping.”

  “You wanted to go shopping?” Hunter was pretty pleased with her wardrobe. Marco had been even more pleased by her new look.

  “No. I want to learn the business side of baseball.” Annabelle’s tone took a very serious turn. “I started watching the games, so I could learn. Okay, and to see a little bit of Marco in action. He’s good, isn’t he? Like, really good.”

  “Yes, he is a very good player.” Hunter kept her jealousy in check.

  “I thought maybe if I showed more of an interest in the game, and yes, even in Marco, then maybe Clayton would show more of an interest in me.” Her voice was tinged with sadness now, but with an undercurrent of resolve. “But I think we’re beyond that. I think I need to learn the game—and the business—so that if I do divorce Clayton, I won’t be in the way. So I’ll be able to help keep the team successful.”

  “You’re thinking of divorcing Clayton?”

  “He spends more time in Florida than in California.” Annabelle twirled her sunglasses almost furiously. “That must be where his heart is.”

  “Oh, Annabelle, I’m so sorry.”

  “He can have Florida. He can have everything. I only want the house. The girls. And the Goliaths.”

  “You want the team?” Hunter couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d said she wanted Marco back.

  “My fair share. I don’t want to push anyone out of the way. But I do want something I can build for my girls.” She reached into her purse for a tissue and blotted at her eyes. “So I can show them that a woman can have it all. A career. A passion. A man who truly loves her.”

  Hunter was a little confused. One minute Annabelle was telling her she was considering divorce. Then she was talking about true love the next.

  “You’re my hero, you know.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You’re the real force behind this team. Obviously Clayton doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s got his head so far up his ass he doesn’t even realize what an idiot he is. He thought he could push you out, make you give up control of the team. But we can’t let that happen, can we?”

  Did Annabelle know about the bet?

  “You’re the brains of the entire Goliaths organization. And I have a feeling you have been for a long time.”

  “I’ve always had certain instincts.”

  “Like signing Johnny Scottsdale and Bryce Baxter. And trading for Marco.”

  “I knew each of them could be a huge factor in our run for the postseason.”

  “Tell me, truthfully, did you have your eye on Marco for more than just his defense?”

  “No. I mean, I knew he could contribute at the plate.”

  “But you didn’t bring him to San Francisco to bring him into your bed?”

  “No, of course not.” Even if she’d wanted to, she never would have believed he’d have been interested.

  “Well, that’s good. Because I can tell he’s pretty smitten.”

  “He’s smitten with winning.” Hunter hadn’t had enough girlfriends to know if this was normal girl talk or if Annabelle was teasing her.

  “No. That man is head over cleats in love with you.”

  “He is not. We’re not serious. In fact, the only reason we’re still seeing e
ach other is because we’re still winning.”

  “No. I see the way he looks at you.”

  “That’s just part of his charm. His irresistibility.” Hunter was becoming more and more uncomfortable with this conversation. “I’m sure he looked at you the same way. You just don’t remember.”

  “No. He never looked at me like that.” Annabelle sounded wistful. Envious, even. “Sure he looked at me. Maybe he even liked what he saw.”

  She made a motion to draw attention to her face, her body, her cover-model looks.

  “But he only saw the packaging.” Annabelle sighed. “He only saw what I presented to the world.”

  Hunter looked at this gorgeous woman sitting in front of her. The woman she’d been jealous of so many times. But now she felt a little sorry for her.

  “When Marco looks at you, he sees beyond the surface. He sees the whole you.” Annabelle wiped her eyes, this time with the back of her hand. “I saw it at the barbecue. He looked at you like you were the only woman in the world.”

  “Are we talking about the same barbecue? You wore that emerald green top that dipped almost to your waist. Every man there was drooling over you. Including Marco.”

  “No. He was just being friendly. But he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

  “Right. Because I was so enticing in my baggy pants and plain T-shirt.”

  “You were. You captured his heart. And yeah, I was jealous. Still am, if you want to know the truth.”

  “You’re jealous of me?” Hunter stood up, shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Hunter laughed. What a joke. The supermodel was jealous of the tomboy. The woman who’d been named one of the most glamorous woman in the world before she was even old enough to drink.

  But Annabelle wasn’t laughing. She was crying. Hunter was at her side, putting her arm around her friend.

  “Annabelle, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Promise you won’t hurt him. Marco’s a good man. A really good man.” She tried to laugh. “I keep telling myself I let him go, but he was never really mine.”

  “He’s not really mine, either.” Hunter hoped she could be the kind of friend to Annabelle that she would need in a few weeks or months when she’d need a friend herself.

  “Don’t sit there and tell me he’s just playing you like he plays left field.” Annabelle gripped her hands. “You have something special. Don’t let it slip away. Fight for it. Fight for it the way you’d fight for your team.”

  Chapter 15

  The Goliaths swept the series in Miami. Marco went five for thirteen with four RBIs. They were on a hot streak going into September and their closest opponent in the division had dropped three of their last four. They needed one win to clinch at least a wild card berth. Then, even if Los Angeles got hot the last few weeks, they were guaranteed a spot in the postseason.

  But Hunter wasn’t going to be satisfied with a wild card. She had her sights set on the division title, and she was going to do whatever it took to help them get there. She’d picked the minor league players she thought were the most likely to contribute down the stretch, and she was personally going to welcome them into the clubhouse when they arrived in St. Louis.

  She wouldn’t be available if they had problems with the hotel, however. She was staying with Marco. Her flight arrived just minutes before the team’s charter was scheduled to take off. That would give her a few hours to gather her luggage, grab dinner, and arrange for a car to take her to his apartment where she would shower, change into something not-so-comfortable, and await her lover.

  She laughed when she let herself into his apartment. It was almost an exact replica of his place in San Francisco. The same leather sofa, big screen TV, and masculine—if not boring—black and silver bookcases. It was as if there was a bachelor pad catalog that catered to ballplayers who spent more time in a hotel room than their own place.

  The only difference was the kitchen was on opposite sides of the apartment. In San Francisco, the living room faced west. Here it overlooked the city to the east. And back home, Marco had a view of the ballpark. When she looked out the window here she could catch a glimpse of the Gateway Arch.

  Finally, she heard Marco’s key in the lock. She tried to hide her anticipation, but it was difficult when she was perched on his sofa in nothing but a bustier and matching red panties.

  Marco dropped his suitcase, kicked the door shut, and fell to his knees in front of her.

  “I’ve missed you.” He devoured her with kisses, stripping off his shirt when he came up for air.

  “Really? I couldn’t tell.” Hunter grabbed at his zipper, tugging off his pants. Yeah, he’d missed her. The evidence was irrefutable.

  “Did you miss me?” His mouth was magic, awakening her senses as he explored her body from her earlobes to her ankles.

  She couldn’t answer, didn’t need to answer, her body responded for her.

  “Marco. Please.” Her head fell back and she moaned as he slid inside her.

  * * * *

  Marco drove into Hunter. God she was good. Too good. A part of him wondered if he hadn’t fallen asleep on the plane, and was only dreaming of her. Dreaming of this perfection.

  He’d arranged for her to meet him at his apartment. That way she could make herself comfortable in case the game went late or their flight was delayed.

  She’d made herself comfortable, all right. She was dressed in the sexiest of her sexy lingerie, just waiting for him to come home.

  He’d planned on taking it slow, being smooth and romantic. Instead, he’d taken her right there on the couch. Right where he’d found her.

  The minute she’d said “please” he was a goner.

  “I love you,” he said the words at the exact moment that she cried out his name. Spiraling out of control, they surrendered to an earth-shattering climax. He had no idea if she’d heard his confession. She just held on as the aftershocks ripped through them both.

  “Does that answer your question?” She fumbled around for her panties, but wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I guess I did miss you.”

  She slipped the tiny scrap of satin over her hips and wriggled off the couch.

  Yeah, she’d heard him. Heard him and was terrified by his confession.

  He dropped back on his heels and watched her escape to the bathroom.

  With a sigh, he pulled his pants on and wandered into the kitchen. He’d made sure the cleaning service had come that morning to change the sheets and air out the place. But he hadn’t thought to have them stock the refrigerator.

  He stood there staring at the empty fridge, feeling sorry for himself until he heard the shower.

  He tapped on the door before entering with an extra towel.

  “Just wanted to make sure you had everything you need.” Yeah, that was a lame excuse to barge right on in.

  “I found everything easily enough.” Hunter laughed as the warm water sluiced down her body. “Once I figured out everything was a mirror image of your place in San Francisco. I’m starting to think that having identical apartments near every ballpark is part of the collective bargaining agreement.”

  “An apartment’s an apartment.” Marco tossed the towel on the counter and started to back out of the bathroom. “One place is the same as the next.”

  “And why is that?” She lathered herself up, turning to rinse. “Why don’t you care about where you live?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I moved around enough as a kid, I never got attached to any one place.” He stood there, watching her make herself at home in his shower.

  “Why did you move so much?”

  “My mom was a hard worker.” He leaned against the bathroom counter, his past opening up like his pores in the heavy steam. “She had a good job. Worked for a wealthy family. Until their son came home from college.”

  He’d never told anyone his story. It was too painful. Too shameful. But he wanted Hunter to know where he’d come from.

  “He se
duced my mother and when she got pregnant, he went back to college and she was out of a job.”

  “Oh Marco. That’s so unfair.” She opened the shower door, inviting him in.

  “Yeah.” Marco slipped out of his clothes, and joined her in the shower. “It was. But she never gave up. Even if it meant packing up and moving to a new town, wherever the jobs were. She kept a roof over our head. Food on the table. She made sure I got an education. And that I could play ball.”

  “Sounds like your mother and my father would have been good friends, if they’d had a chance to meet.” Hunter stepped aside so he could rinse off.

  When she wrapped her arms around him, Marco felt like he’d finally found a home.

  * * * *

  Hunter woke before Marco. She eased out from under his embrace, wanting to escape, but unable to tear herself away. So she propped herself up on the pillow and watched him sleep. He was gorgeous. Even in slumber, his muscles flexed, revealing his power. Not a scratch, or blemish, or spot of ink marred his perfectly smooth skin. Just a sprinkling of dark hair, in all the right places, inviting her to sample the fine tastes and textures and pleasure she’d grown to love.

  Love. It hit her like a ninety-seven-mile-an-hour fastball. It was powerful and frightening and intoxicating at the same time, especially when it came with amazing sex. The kind of mind-blowing, earth-shattering, and all that other cliché inducing stuff she’d thought only existed in the movies.

  He’d told her he loved her. True, he’d said it as he was plunging deep inside her and sending her over the edge. She’d been unable to respond, at least not verbally. But then he pulled away. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. Or maybe he was as frightened by the thought as she was.

  Watching him now, she felt butterflies in her stomach. No, more like a thousand hairy spiders. Still, she couldn’t tear herself away. She brushed a kiss across his forehead. His eyes fluttered open and a warm smile spread across his face.

  “Good morning gorgeous.” Marco pulled her against him.

  “Please, I’m a mess.” Hunter attempted to smooth her hair back.

  “That’s what makes you even more beautiful.” He snuggled even closer. “Your hair is tousled from me running my hands through it. Your lips are swollen from my kisses. Your cheeks are pink from my whiskers.”