Love in the Lineup

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  * * *

  Angel stomped to his car. How could one woman continually make him want to pull his hair out? If he’d had hair, he thought as he ran a palm across his scalp. And where did she get off getting an attitude with him just because he didn’t take too kindly to her flamboyant behavior. Spoiled, that’s what was wrong with her. Probably used to always getting her own way whether she should have it or not. He shook his head as he eased himself into his vehicle. Why, he thought, as he shifted into gear and pulled onto the main road, did she have to be so extraordinarily beautiful?

  * * *

  Later that afternoon Roshawn was sifting through the stack of MLS home listings and coordinating times to preview them with the Realtor. A few were immediately eliminated, clearly not meeting the family’s needs as far as Roshawn was concerned. A couple stood out as perfect, she thought, and she was excited to be able to sneak a peek inside the million-dollar listings.

  As she scheduled her last appointment and hung up the telephone, Chen dropped down to his favorite seat against the corner of her desk. “So, what’s going on with you and Angel Rios?” he asked.

  Roshawn cut her eye at the man, then focused back on the papers in front of her, refusing to meet his stare. She shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Chen smiled. “You were never a good liar, Roshawn.” She looked up at him, taking a deep inhale of breath. “I don’t believe there is anything going on with Mr. Rios and myself. We don’t particularly get along with one another. Nothing else.”

  Chen chuckled softly. “His father believes otherwise. So does Ming.”

  “Is this some kind of conspiracy?”

  “We all want to see you happy, Roshawn.”

  “Then stay out of my business and we will all be happy.”

  Chen nodded slowly, standing back on his feet. “Nina called while you were on the other line. She wants you to call her. Something about meeting her at The Lotus Room tonight.”

  Roshawn nodded her thanks, sorting once again through the pile of papers. Chen stood watching her from the doorway. Her gaze locked with his as he called her name.

  “Yes, Chen?”

  “I want you to be happy more than anyone else, Roshawn. He’s a little young,” Chen said teasingly, “but I think you might need a younger man to keep up with you. Plus, he’s got a promising future. I wouldn’t have to worry about him taking care of you. I like him. In fact, there’s a lot about him that I like.”

  Roshawn said nothing as they continued to stare at one another. Chen smiled again as he headed back into his office. “Wo ai ni, Roshawn.”

  She continued to stare after him, emotion catching tightly in her chest. “I love you, too, Chen. I love you, too.”

  * * *

  Roshawn desperately needed the mood of The Lotus Room. She had already been on edge after her brief encounter with Angel and when Chen had felt it necessary to offer his approval of the man, she had almost lost it completely. Nina was on the dance floor with a husky blonde when she arrived. Roshawn recognized him as a player from one of the minor league teams who was being evaluated by Chen and the pitching staff. When her friend caught sight of her, she pointed toward a rear booth where Patrick sat alone, tapping his fingers in time to the music. Roshawn waved hello to the woman and headed in the direction of the husband.

  “Hi, Patrick. How are you?” she asked as she came to his side.

  The man rose slightly from his seat to kiss her cheek. “I’m good. How you doin’, Roshawn?”

  She nodded. “I could complain but it wouldn’t do any good.”

  Patrick chuckled. “I hear ya’. Nobody ever listens anyway,” he said, smiling widely.

  Roshawn dropped down onto an empty seat, laying her leather clutch against the table.

  “Would you like a chocolate martini, Roshawn?”

  She gave it a quick thought, then shook her head. “Not tonight, thank you. I would like a bottle of Perrier with a twist of lemon, though.”

  Patrick nodded as he excused himself and headed toward the bar. As he stood ordering, Nina made her way to the table. Her dance partner had headed in the opposite direction, stopping to slap hands with Patrick before moving on to the men’s room. Nina lit a cigarette, turning to blow a ring of smoke behind her.

  “When did you start smoking?” Roshawn asked, eyeing her friend curiously.

  “I only do it when Patrick and I are fighting.”

  “Mmm! What happened?”

  “I called his room this weekend when they were in Dallas and some woman answered the telephone. The witch hung up on me and when I called back, he picked up. He swears up and down that he was alone and they just connected me to the wrong room.”

  Roshawn looked toward the bar then turned back to her friend. “Do you believe him?”

  Nina heaved a deep sigh. “Let’s be for real, Roshawn. Patrick is a professional baseball player. Women throw themselves at him all the time. Sometimes right in front of my face. And, he’s a man. Put the right temptation in front of him and anything is bound to happen. Ask his ex-wife. That’s how he and I met in the first place.”

  Roshawn shook her head. “Patrick loves you and you love him, Nina.”

  Nina smiled, stubbing her cigarette out into an ashtray. She placed the half-empty pack back into her purse. “That’s the only reason I haven’t called my attorney yet and demanded half,” the woman exclaimed. She changed the subject. “So, how are things going with you?”

  Roshawn shrugged, not bothering to respond.

  Nina smiled. “How are things going with you and Angel?”

  She gave her friend an annoyed look. “They aren’t. They won’t be. Let’s just move on.”

  Nina sighed. “You’re probably better off anyway. It’s not easy being the wife of a professional athlete.”

  Roshawn giggled. “As I remember, it was difficult just being a wife.”

  At that moment Patrick turned back to the table, two drinks in his hands. He grinned broadly as he approached, moving to place Roshawn’s water down in front of her and a vodka-tonic before his wife. He gently squeezed the woman’s shoulders before sitting back down.

  No one spoke and all three turned to focus on the crowd gathering for happy hour. Everyone seemed genuinely enthused to be there and Roshawn couldn’t help noting how distinguished a group they all were. In fact, she mused as her eyes skated slowly around the room, there might be some who would have ventured to call them a pretty crowd because everyone looked good.

  Her eyes were focused on the entrance at the exact moment Angel came through the door. As if sensing her with radar his gaze fell directly on her and he stopped short, blatantly staring. Roshawn sat straighter in her seat as she returned the look and when he broke the connection, moving to a stool at the bar, she was only slightly disappointed. Nina didn’t miss a trick.

  “Would you like Patrick to go invite him over?” the woman asked, leaning over the table toward her.

  Roshawn cut her gaze from Nina to Patrick and back again. She cast a quick glance toward Angel and shook her head. “No.”

  The couple gave each other a look, both noting the quick change in Roshawn’s disposition. Carefree and relaxed had suddenly shifted to anxious and moody. Nina started to comment but Patrick interrupted her, pulling at her hand as he asked her to dance.

  “Please?” he whined, his eyes pleading with her.

  Roshawn waved them off. “Go dance with your husband. Have some fun. I’ll be fine.” She watched as Nina finally gave in, following eagerly behind the man. She tossed Angel another quick gaze, bristling when she saw him talking to a leggy redhead in a miniskirt that just covered her crotch line. The woman had wrapped both arms around him as she whispered into his ear. Roshawn reached for her drink and took a heavy gulp, suddenly wishing for that martini. She closed her eyes and focused on the music.

  The DJ had taken full control of the room. The man had been spinning bedroom ballads back to back, slow, sultry numb
ers that made a woman wish for a man if she didn’t have one, and had a man begging for more attention than he probably deserved. It was suddenly so hot that Roshawn could hardly bear it. She glanced toward the bar for a third look, just in time to see Angel disengage himself from the woman’s embrace. He reached into his pocket and pulled a billfold into his hands. He counted off a number of dollar bills that he tossed to the counter. The redheaded woman was eyeing him eagerly, her interest almost as intense as Roshawn’s. The man met Roshawn’s gaze for a second time and held it. He nodded boldly in her direction. He leaned to whisper something to his new friend and then he brushed rudely past her, leaving the woman standing with her mouth open, a look of pure surprise gracing her round face.

  Roshawn watched as he slowly sauntered in her direction. He stopped as he reached the edge of the dance floor, his gaze still entwined tightly with hers. He gestured with his forefinger, beckoning her toward him. Theirs was a silent conversation as Roshawn rose from her seat and made a path through the crowded dance floor to meet him halfway, her movements enticingly slow. The moment was surreal as Roshawn focused on nothing but Angel, and the sultry, hedonistic rendition of “Drift Away” billowing through the room.

  As she stepped before him, Angel placed his right hand against her hip and slowly eased her against his body. Roshawn closed her eyes and dropped into the sensation as her body pressed hot against the lines of his. His hips were rocking slowly back and forth, and she moved with him, intent on following him wherever it was he planned to lead her. She leaned into him, her arms still hanging loosely at her sides as they navigated an erotic bump and grind to the beat of the music. Roshawn could feel herself being consumed by the moment. She dropped her cheek to his broad chest and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him. The cologne was a light musk, filling her nostrils and sweeping through her bloodstream like a sensual narcotic. The moment had taken full control over them and when she felt his lips brush ever so lightly across her forehead, The Miracles were whispering what a wonderful world it could be.

  Roshawn lifted her gaze to stare up at him, her arms reaching around to rest her hands against the shelf of his rear end. Angel smiled, never missing a step as his large palms wrapped around her back and pulled her tighter against him, his pelvis still rotating in sync with hers. Roshawn gasped as the sensations surging through her body threatened to drop her to the floor, her knees quivering in response. Her eyes fell shut once again as he tightened his grip around her torso, melding his body against hers. Angel pressed his cheek to her cheek and when the warmth of his breath blew lightly past her ear, Roshawn was no more good.

  He could have lifted her off the floor with one hand, he thought as he held her tightly. She fit so neatly within his arms it was as if they’d been made just for her. As he held her, his body dancing easily against hers, he couldn’t imagine the moment when he would have to let her go. Her body was warm, her skin like satin beneath his palms as he slowly caressed her bare arms, his fingers tiptoeing across her back and shoulders. He savored each sensation, energy surging from one end of his body to the other, converging en masse at the apex of his manhood.

  Angel resisted the urge to kiss her mouth, wanting to taste her, knowing that if he did there would be no stopping. He was barely holding on as it was as he stared down at her. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, her breath coming in short gasps, her eyes closed tightly to shut out everything but the emotions surging like brush fire between them. He was so hungry for her that he felt as if the heat that had risen between them was swallowing his entire being whole.

  The song changed, shifting the mood as couples began to bounce around the floor beside them. Angel was still holding on, reluctant to break the bond between them. He felt her sigh, her body quivering ever so gently against him and his gaze met hers one more time. Neither said a word and the moment was interrupted as Nina stepped up to greet them.

  “Hi, guys,” the woman said too cheerily, grinning from one to the other.

  Roshawn was still staring up at Angel as he seemed to be waiting for her to say something. But she couldn’t speak. Words were caught in the fog of wanting and blatant desire that had clouded her thoughts. She stood frozen, embarrassment starting to grow like a pesky weed throughout the garden of her spirit. Her gaze shifted toward her friend, her eyes begging the woman to say something that would help ease her out of the trance she seemed to be lost in. But Nina’s gaze was still locked on Angel, oblivious to the waves of unease wafting between the couple.

  The man suddenly leaned to kiss Roshawn’s cheek, his full lips lingering against her skin. He took her hand and squeezed it, his fingers entwined between hers. “Thank you for the dance. I won’t be a bother to you again,” he said softly before pulling away from her. He gave Nina a quick smile, said goodbye, then turned, moving easily toward the door. As he made his exit, Roshawn was still standing in awe in the center of the room, someone singing something about a warm and tender love.

  * * *

  Bridget was rolling on the floor laughing hysterically at her. Roshawn was not amused as she switched the telephone receiver from one ear to the other. She curled over on her side, pulling a cotton sheet up over her legs.

  “It wasn’t funny, Bridget. I knew I should have called Jeneva.”

  “The brother sexes you up in public and then left you hanging, and you don’t see what’s funny about that?” her friend said, chuckling all over again.

  “He didn’t sex me up.”

  “What do you call it?”

  Roshawn paused, reflecting back on the scene with Angel. She inhaled swiftly as the realization of what had happened overtook her. Her voice came in a low whisper. “Bridget, that man made love to me. It was the most sensual, most intimate thing I have ever experienced. We might not have been naked, but he made love to me on that dance floor.”

  “You were still in a public place.”

  “Girl, it was like the whole world disappeared and there was no one there but the two of us.”

  “But he left you hanging.”

  Roshawn groaned, rolling onto her back. “Like a load of wet laundry! If we had been naked and alone it would have been as if he’d rolled over, gotten out of bed and left me high and dry wanting more.”

  “At least he kissed you goodbye.”

  “Bridget, I have never been so disoriented in my entire life. I have never been so starstruck around a man. I couldn’t even speak. He must have thought I was a complete fool.”

  “I doubt it. He probably thought you were a little ditzy though.” Bridget laughed, the sound resonating through the receiver.

  “I don’t know what to do, Bridget. Tell me what to do!”

  Bridget sighed and Roshawn could only imagine the eye roll her friend was giving her. “Stop playing hard to get,” she said. “Obviously, you like this man and he likes you. Why not give it a try?”

  “Because he irritates me.”

  “And I’m sure you’re nothing but an annoying itch under his skin, too. Sounds like you two are going to be perfect for one another.”

  Roshawn heaved a deep sigh. “Hang up. I’m calling Jeneva.”

  “Jeneva’s busy having real sex.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She and Mac are spending the week in a hotel room. Her mother-in-law is here taking care of the baby so the two of them decided to sneak off for some extracurricular activity.”

  “How is Mama Frances?”

  “She’s great. Having a blast with little Alexa. That child gets sweeter and sweeter every day.”

  Roshawn sighed again.

  “You really like this man a lot, don’t you Roshawn?” Bridget asked, a sudden awareness washing over her.

  Her friend didn’t respond and only the inhale and exhale of her breathing passed over the phone lines. “I don’t know him that well, Bridget,” she finally said softly.

  “But you’d like to, wouldn’t you?”

  “I think I would just like to stop being celi
bate.”

  This time Bridget sighed. “You do need to call Jeneva. She is so much better at getting you to face your real feelings than I am.”

  They shared another moment of silence.

  “You know how you say I always get everything I want and how I don’t let anything get in my way? You’re always joking about me being so strong?”

  Bridget nodded into the receiver. “Yeah, because you are.”

  “Well, this time I’m scared, Bridget. I’m scared to death. For months now I have felt like my entire life has been at sea, drifting no place fast. And for the first time since Chen, I’m thinking about a man I may want around for longer than one meal and I’m scared. I don’t know what to do, how to do it, or even if I should. I don’t feel strong, Bridget.”

  Bridget would feel the tears that swelled in Roshawn’s eyes, the ones her friend would never allow to fall. “That’s what makes you a strong woman, Roshawn. You’re always the first one to say what you’re feeling, when you feel it. You don’t hold back. I don’t know any other woman who is as open, and as honest, and as fearless as you are. Even when you are scared, you own up to it. You face it and you get past it. That takes more strength than I could ever imagine.”

  Roshawn reflected on her friend’s comments, the pregnant silence growing full as it swelled like new life between them.

  “You really shouldn’t shortchange yourself,” Roshawn finally responded.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re definitely as good at this as Jeneva is.”

  Bridget laughed. “I love you, too, heifer!”

  Chapter 13

  Angel was panting hard as he pushed open the doors to the men’s lockers. The smell of male sweat hit him square in the face. Players were walking around in jockstraps and towels, or naked, whooping and whistling or snapping towels as they recovered from a hard practice. The coaches had put them all through their paces and there wasn’t one of them who wasn’t feeling it. Some more than others. A few sat in front of their lockers, heads hanging, muscles aching, in need of whatever or whoever might be able to bring them some relief. Others were skylarking, releasing the last remnants of energy that had managed to escape the ball field and the coaches’ watchful eyes.