“Yes, sir. Just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know where she is,” Marco admitted. “If I’m going to marry the woman, I need to find her first.”
“Ahh, yes. I must be getting old. Minor details starting to slip.”
“So?” He needed to see her. To hear it from her that she wanted this.
“Try Paris.”
“Paris, Texas?” He’d lived there for a time as a kid. Fourth grade, or maybe it was fifth.
“No. Paris, France. She mentioned something about wanting to look at art.” Dempsey shrugged. “Don’t ask me why.”
“I’ve got to get to the airport.” Marco stood and started for the exit. He took a deep breath and turned around, extending a hand toward his future wife’s former partner. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Good luck, son. But I don’t think you’ll need it.” Dempsey sent him off with a wink and a smile.
* * * *
Hunter’s flight was delayed. Just what she needed, more time to sit in the airport thinking about how she was making a huge mistake running away from Marco. She’d already had more coffee than she could stomach, but it was a little early for a drink.
She walked over to the bar, if only to kill some time. Maybe she could talk herself into a mimosa. How was she going to fill her days, if she was already having trouble with an extra hour?
She glanced up at the TV over the bar. They were showing highlights of last night’s game. Bryce Baxter’s home run, Johnny Scottsdale’s eleven strikeouts, and Marco Santiago’s spectacular catch in left field that killed the only rally Texas had all night.
Did she really think that running off to another country was going to do her or Marco any good? She wanted to give him the space to take care of his contract business, and then what? If she’d been smart she would have left a ticket to Paris for Marco so he could join her. Now that she wasn’t president of the San Francisco Goliaths, she had nothing better to do. Did she really want to walk around Paris looking at art?
She’d rather be anywhere with Marco.
If he’d still have her.
She approached the counter at the gate.
“Excuse me,” Hunter made a decision. “I’d like to cancel my ticket for this flight.”
“I’m sorry for the continued delay.” The clerk tried to remain polite, but she’d been dealing with disgruntled passengers for the last forty-five minutes. “If you’ll just be patient with us for little bit longer, we’ll be boarding shortly.”
“It’s not that.” Hunter gave the poor woman a sympathetic smile. “I’ve decided not to go to Paris, for personal reasons.”
The clerk reluctantly took Hunter’s boarding pass, her shoulders slumping when she saw it was a first class ticket.
“I know it’s extra work for you, and I apologize for that.” Hunter didn’t want special treatment, she just wanted to get out of there. “But I can’t get on this flight. I can’t leave… I can’t leave him.”
The clerk sighed. “It will take me a few minutes to process your request. In the meantime, you are welcome to make yourself comfortable in the lounge.”
“Sure. I’ll be right over there.” Hunter made her way over to the bar. The TV was still tuned to ESPN, but instead of highlights of last night’s game, they showed a teaser shot of none other than Clayton Barry before cutting to a commercial.
She ordered a drink and sat down, wondering what bad news awaited her next.
“Could you turn that up?” She offered a generous tip along with her request.
The bartender pocketed the cash and turned up the volume.
Hunter took a sip of her tequila sunrise. A mimosa wasn’t going to cut it.
The studio reporter gave a quick overview of the FITNatural scandal before cutting to a live feed from the commissioner’s office. Clayton Barry stood in front of the building, a briefcase in his hand, and a weary expression on his face.
“Mr. Barry, can you tell me if your involvement with FITNatural will cast a shadow over the San Francisco Goliaths’ recent World Series victory?” The reporter shoved a microphone in his face.
“The Goliaths earned their victory.” Barry stood tall, almost defiant. “They have every reason to be proud of all they’ve accomplished.”
“Surely the involvement of an owner in the biggest PED scandal can only cast doubt over the four game sweep.”
“First of all, my investment in what I believed to be a legitimate nutrition and fitness company was one hundred percent personal.” Barry straightened his tie. “I made the mistake of not fully investigating the nature of the business. I was led to believe the company was legitimate, and because of school ties and a misguided sense of loyalty, I provided capital with hope of return on my investment.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t know you were providing steroids to the very players you held the contracts on?”
“I was a minority investor in the Goliaths’ baseball team. I was mostly a silent partner, meaning my involvement was purely financial. I have since sold my share to long-standing partner Marvin Dempsey.”
“So you dumped your share of the team in the wake of this scandal?”
Hunter took a long drink, maybe she should get on the plane to Paris after all. That way she wouldn’t feel like she’d let her father down. And her team. And the entire city of San Francisco.
“No. I sold my share for personal reasons.” He ran his hand through what was left of his hair. “My wife has filed for divorce. Rather than drag the team and the fans through our personal problems, I wanted to do the right thing. I sold my share because cash is so much easier to divvy up.”
“So your partners aren’t involved in FITNatural?”
“No. They are not.” Clayton looked directly into the camera. Almost as if he was looking right at Hunter. “I made a mistake, and I truly regret that my association has cast a shadow on the team. I felt honored to work with Henry Collins, Marvin Dempsey and most recently, Hunter Collins. If I was half the man she is… Well, I wouldn’t be here today, giving my testimony to the commissioner’s office in hopes of cleaning up the game.”
He nodded toward the camera, and then turned to head inside.
Hunter finished her drink, almost feeling sorry for Clayton Barry. But right now he was the least of her worries. She needed to get to Marco. To let him know that sometimes love was enough.
Thirty minutes later, she stood on the curb, looking for the car she’d ordered to take her back to the hotel. And hopefully back to Marco.
A sleek black limo pulled to a stop in front of her. The driver jumped out and took her suitcase. He opened the passenger door and Hunter got in.
“Oh, Marco, you scared me!”
* * * *
“You scared me, too.” Marco’s heart beat rapidly. “I was afraid I’d lost you.”
“You found me.” God, she was beautiful. Her hair was messy, like she’d been tossing and turning all night. She’d tried to contain it in a loose ponytail, but several strands had escaped, framing her face like a halo. “How did you find me?”
“Marvin Dempsey.” Marco wanted to reach for her. To pull her onto his lap. Like he’d wanted to do the very first time he’d met her. “We met this morning.”
“Good. I’m glad.” She gazed down at the floor. “So, how was your meeting?”
“I accepted the offer. But Hunter…” He reached for her hand. “I can’t believe you gave up your team. For me.”
“Don’t be silly. I did it for the team.” She looked up at him, and he could see how much it cost her to give it up. “They need you.”
“Do you need me?” He held her hand to his lips, but hesitated. “Do you love me?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes when he brushed the back of her hand with a kiss. “And yes. I love you.”
“Then why were you leaving? Why Paris?”
“I convinced myself that it would be easier on you if I wasn’t around.” She opened
her eyes and smiled. “That you could take care of business and not have to worry about the league or the union or any of that.”
“I’m not worried about any of that.” He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up so he could look directly into her eyes. “I’m sure my baseball contract will hold up under scrutiny. But there is a matter of negotiations that fall far outside the structure of organized baseball.”
“I’m no longer affiliated with the club.” It killed him to see her act as a martyr. “You’ll have to negotiate with Dempsey.”
“I don’t want to marry Marvin Dempsey.” Marco took both her hands in his. Her hands were steady, his were shaking. His heart pounded in his chest. “I promised you a ring, darling. One with a ridiculous amount of diamonds. What do you say I give you two? One for the World Series, and one because you mean the world to me.”
Marco slid off the seat, and knelt before her. He was about to negotiate the most important contract in his life. One that was more valuable than any other.
“Hunter Collins, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes. Oh, Marco…” She threw her arms around him and he buried his head in her sweetness. She wore a suit, like the first time they’d met. Only this one was softer, more feminine. The jacket was cut to emphasize, rather than hide, her curves. Her deep rose blouse dipped low enough to entice without giving up all her secrets.
“I’ll make it worth your while. You’ll see.” Marco kissed her. Victory had never been sweeter. He was the luckiest man in the world.
“I’m counting on it.” Joyful tears glistened in her eyes.
“Don’t worry, your team is in good hands.”
“I know. I picked these hands myself.” Hunter brought his hands to her mouth, kissing his palms, making him want her more than ever. “So far, I’ve not been disappointed.”
“I wasn’t talking about me.” Marco groaned. He’d checked out of his hotel room, thinking he was on his way to Paris. He’d need to get another room. Fortunately, the hotel should have plenty of openings, since the team would head back to San Francisco this afternoon. “I meant Dempsey. He’s a tough old bird.”
“Yes. Yes, he is.” She smiled, seemingly at peace with her decision to let the team go.
“He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Why would he have to?”
“I wasn’t going to sign.” Marco turned to face her. He had to let her know he was willing to sacrifice for her. “He told me about your deal. About the contingency. I tried to quit. I still can. I’ll walk away right now. It’s not official until the league approves it. I’ll call Dempsey right now. You can have your team back, and I’ll be your house boy.” Marco reached for his phone.
Hunter grabbed it from him, tossing it on the seat next to her.
“I need you on the field. You can still be my house boy after the game.” She ran her hand along his thigh. Oh yeah, he’d gotten a good deal. He’d end his career in San Francisco. He’d spend the rest of his life with Hunter.
“I won’t let you down,” he promised.
“I know.” She climbed on his lap, kissing him. Loving him. Believing in him.
Epilogue
The Goliaths’ victory parade marched down Market Street, ending up at city hall. Hunter stepped to the podium.
“Thank you, San Francisco!” She had to practically shout into the microphone, the crowd was so loud. “This has been quite a season. For the team. For the city. For me, personally.”
The crowd hushed.
“As many of you know, my father, Henry Collins, passed away this past April. The beginning of a new season was marred by the loss of someone very dear to me and many in the Goliaths’ organization.”
She squared her shoulders, strengthened by the knowledge that she had made her father proud. She could walk away on top. She glanced over at Marco, sitting in the front row of players. He nodded, giving her a slight smile of encouragement.
“But this team kept going. They kept me going. Together we only got stronger. We did it. Together.” She hesitated, taking a deep breath. “But it’s time for me to step aside. I sold my share of the team, and I’ll no longer serve as president. But don’t worry. You’re in good hands. Marvin Dempsey has been a mentor and a good friend, and he’ll take care of this team. This World Series Championship team.”
After what seemed like minutes of stunned silence, the crowd cheered.
“Now, I’d like to introduce your team, starting with manager, Juan Javier.”
Javier gave a brief speech, before Hunter introduced the rest of the coaching staff. She introduced the pitchers next, and several of them spoke to the crowds. She stepped back up to the microphone.
“Your left fielder, Marco Santiago.” The crowd erupted into cheers as Marco strode to the podium, but instead of grabbing the microphone, he grabbed Hunter. Swept her into his arms and kissed her before the million or so fans in attendance. The fans went nuts, applauding, whistling, and shouting, “Get a room!”
“Thank you.” Marco flashed his most charming grin to the crowd before turning his full attention to Hunter. “Thank you, Hunter. You’ve made all my dreams come true. Any kid who’s ever picked up a baseball has dreamed of playing in and winning the World Series. You brought me here. You believed in me. As a ballplayer. As a man. And since you’ve agreed to marry me, I take it you’ll believe in me as a husband.”
The cheers grew even louder.
“I love you, Hunter Collins.” He kissed her again for all the world to see.
Bryce Baxter approached the podium.
“It’s going to be hard to follow that.” Laughter broke out amongst the spectators. “Bet you didn’t know you were invited to the world’s largest engagement party.”
He waited for the crowd to settle.
“But that’s the way it is. Love comes out of left field and if you’re lucky, like these two, if you’re lucky, you can make the catch.”
Kristina Mathews
Kristina Mathews doesn't remember a time when she didn't have a book in her hand. Or in her head. But it wasn't until 2010 that she confessed the reason the laundry never made it out of the dryer was because she was busy writing romance novels.
While she resigned from teaching with the arrival of her second son, she's remained an educator in some form. As a volunteer, Parent Club member or para educator, she finds the most satisfaction working with emergent and developing readers, helping foster confidence and a lifelong love of books.
Kristina lives in Northern California with her husband of twenty years, two sons and a black lab. A veteran road tripper, amateur renovator and sports fanatic. She hopes to one day travel all 3,073 miles of Highway 50 from Sacramento, CA to Ocean City, MD, replace her carpet with hardwood floors and serve as a “Ball Dudette” for the San Francisco Giants.
Also by Kristina Mathews
More Than A Game
Better Than Perfect
Worth the Trade
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2014 Kristina Mathews
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.
First Electronic Edition: July 2014
ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-541-7
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