Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  Did she? Up until the point she’d seen him striding toward her outside the stadium she was still questioning her decision to take this past one perfect night. In this hotel with the shock of seeing him buzzing around them like the charge from a fresh lightning bolt, the answer was yes, she wanted to be with him. But the buzzing would wane, wouldn’t it? He played with the hair at the base of her skull, causing shivers.

  “Ben, it’s only been two days. I think … I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “I don’t. I’ve had twenty years without you. I don’t want one more day.”

  Closing her eyes, Scarlett drew a shaky breath. When she was younger, she’d wondered what it would be like if Ben ever came looking for her. Then she got married and jaded, and work took up the remaining space in her brain. She might not be as sure as he was, but she felt something undeniable in his arms. Was it enough to take a chance?

  He kissed her forehead, brushing his lips back and forth. She breathed him in, sliding her trembling hands to his shoulders. Warmth filled her until she tingled and dropped her head to his chest. In a perfect world, her answer would be yes.

  “Ben, I’m a workaholic. You’re on the road all the time. We’d be apart more than we’d be together.” And that was just the tip of her concern.

  “Temporary,” he whispered against the top of her head. “As soon as Hernandez is off the DL, I’m going to retire.”

  The word twisted her heart. “What do you mean retire?” She’d been down this road before. Straightening, she drew a deep breath, feeding off her growing fear. “Thirty-seven-year-olds don’t retire.”

  “They do in baseball.”

  She flashed a look over his strong, capable body. “You aren’t hurt. You still perform. Lots of guys play into their forties.”

  “I’m not lots of guys. I’m a catcher. I’m just … done. It doesn’t feel the same.”

  Her stomach churned. Her job didn’t feel the same either, but she wasn’t just going to walk away.

  “Don’t say anything else.” She stood.

  “Why not?”

  “You sound like Craig.”

  “Scarlett, don’t.” Ben reached for her, but she backed away. “I’m not him,” he said.

  “I don’t know who you are after twenty years. You could be anybody.” She stepped back again.

  He sat there, shaking his head, looking devastated. “Or, I could be me. Plain and simple. I’m not a complicated man, you know that. I love baseball, fishing … and you.”

  The cells of her body vibrated, causing an incredible pull to him, but her brain wrestled control, and she put up her hands. “This is crazy. I can’t, Ben. I can’t.”

  For the second time in their lives, Scarlett walked away, and Ben didn’t go after her.

  Chapter Five

  Scarlett couldn’t go back to her hotel room. Staring at those same four walls made her loopy under the best circumstances. Staring at them now would make her deranged. So she walked the blocks around the hotel and stadium, hoping the sounds of postgame revelers and traffic would drown out thought.

  They didn’t. The idea that Ben Border loved her and wanted to be with her was louder than everything but her heartbeat.

  What did she want?

  For years, it was corporate success and financial stability — the fascinating life her father led while her mother was stuck home, depressed and dependent. Being named executive vice president at a Fortune 500 company crossed those goals off her list. After that, she decided she wanted marriage, a partner, someone to split the load and share the highs and lows. She and Craig certainly shared lows.

  Marrying him had nearly destroyed her. As his restaurant failed, so did he, until she didn’t recognize the man. His allegations of her emotional abuse forcing him into early retirement were laughable until they culminated in a messy legal battle and a judge awarding Craig alimony so he could “get back on his feet.”

  Scarlett winced as she stepped off the curb and headed around the stadium block again. It took five years to shed the “ick” from that period of her life. She never wanted hurt like that again. Her walls went up. She focused on work, throwing herself into her job even harder than before. And in walked Ben.

  He said he loved her and wanted to be with her. Did she love him?

  Lifting her face to the starry sky, Scarlett blew a breath over loose lips. She’d never stopped loving him. The love had just … changed. She learned to love the memory of him, never imagining she’d have a chance at him again. Not at thirty-seven years old, when she was winding down on taking risks. And being with him was a huge risk, assuming she wanted to be with him at all.

  Did she?

  Right now she wanted to be with him, but what about next month, next year? He was a man in flux, like Craig had been. What if “retirement” changed Ben, too? She glanced up at the hotel across the street. The idea that he was fifteen floors above this very pavement and she wasn’t in his arms created a gap in her heart.

  Realizing she was standing while pedestrians passed her on all sides, she wandered to the statue outside the players’ entrance where she’d waited for Ben an hour before. She sat at the base and stared at the shiny tips of her ballet flats. What had happened to the ordered life she’d created post-Craig? Ben Border had walked in, and two days later she was a mess, contemplating a whirlwind relationship.

  That camp. At one time it had been their dream, a vague idea of how two seemingly opposite passions could intertwine. He’d been every bit as fascinated by the process of tying the perfect lure as she’d been by the process of communicating product value. But they’d been young and idealistic, and baseball took him far away. To think that camp actually existed … and it housed a boat named Scarlett. The memory of that image gave her chills. And his words … She was my first. The rest of them paled in comparison.

  He wasn’t talking about the boat, was he?

  God, what would happen if she just went with it, if she looked at this random meeting as something made by destiny, and took another chance with Ben? It could be the best decision she ever made. It could be another bad decision, too. Whichever one it turned out to be, couldn’t she handle it? Hadn’t she earned the strength and wisdom that came from surviving a nightmare marriage and divorce? She knew what she wanted in a man now that she knew what she didn’t want. Ben was right; he wasn’t Craig. He wasn’t retiring because he had failed.

  Scarlett propped elbows on knees and dropped her chin to her palms. What would life with Ben be like? She had no way to know for sure. Based on their time together and their conversation in the room, she assumed they’d have great sex, but aside from that, he wanted to fish, and she wanted the self-worth that came from challenging work. Could they manage all that with separate home bases — five hours away? As it was, she couldn’t make time for her niece’s baptism; would she make time for Ben? God, she wanted to. She didn’t want to let go of the way he made her feel — whole, like there was more to her than her job.

  She sat there for the longest time, analyzing everything from her growing discontent with the lack of excitement in her work to the widening gap between her and her family. Maybe she was ready for a bigger change than she’d ever imagined. Maybe it was time for something entirely new. She couldn’t shake the images of that camp. Maybe that camp was the key.

  The longer she sat there with garbled thoughts, the more she regretted the time she was spending away from Ben. It seemed wasteful, her here, him there, when they’d already spent twenty years apart.

  Scarlett wanted to be with him. She really didn’t have a choice. If she walked away now, she’d live the rest of her life wondering if she’d walked away from her destiny … again.

  • • •

  Ben paced his room, one minute annoyed at himself for pushing such an irration
al proposition so soon after finding Scarlett again, the next minute annoyed with Scarlett for using some deep-seated issues due to her divorce to push him away. Of course, he should’ve seen that coming, but it wasn’t the same thing. He didn’t know enough about her ex’s failed business ventures to understand why they didn’t work, but Ben knew enough about hard work to know there came a time when even a man’s best couldn’t win every game. He wasn’t quitting because he sucked, he was retiring because he’d been playing professional baseball for twenty years and giving everything he had to the sport for even longer. A man had a right to pursue other passions. And this wasn’t just about Scarlett.

  Stopping his pacing at the foot of the bed where his laptop remained opened to pictures of his lakefront property, Ben clicked through the images. For almost as long as he’d loved baseball, he’d loved fishing. But baseball had mattered more. It set him up to buy this dream property in the first place. It set him up to retire in comfortable style, while he was still young enough to enjoy the free time and explore other things.

  Clicking back to the original article, he read the title, Border Camp: Catching Fish on Mirror Lake With Baseball’s Hottest Catcher. Memories made his brain tingle. The guys in the clubhouse razzing him after the print issue was released. They kept asking when they could book a week, and he’d go along with the joke, telling them the All-Star Game break was already booked with the ballot’s losers. He smiled at the memory, and then something else, something strong, had him rubbing the base of his neck. What if he did it for real, like he and Scarlett had talked about in high school? What if he opened Border Camp as the ultimate man-cation destination? The size and state of the property would allow him to charge steep enough prices to only appeal to serious, respectful fisherman and outdoorsmen, a lot of the guys he knew.

  It could work, he thought, clicking through the photos again. Of course, he had no experience with property management or the hospitality business, but Jordon would know what to do, who to hire to handle that. He’d said Ben’s decision to retire needed to be made from a rational place as opposed to an emotional one. Well, this was as close to being rational as Ben was going to get.

  He crossed the room and pulled back the sheer curtains for a clearer view of the lighted stadium. He thought about never crouching behind home plate again and waited for melancholy thoughts to set in. Instead, he found his gaze wandering to the crowd below. They walked and gathered in groups, carrying on after the game. After the game. There was still so much life to be had after the game.

  His gaze locked on a hunched over figure sitting at the base of a statue. The light was low, but he could see it was Scarlett. He left the room without thinking, jogging down the hall. Whatever concerns she had about being with him, she needed to know his retirement shouldn’t be one of them. They could work this out. As much as he wanted her with him, he didn’t expect her to quit her job and disappear from the life she’d built if she didn’t want that. If she needed to be in New Jersey, he could be in New Jersey, too, especially once the camp was fully staffed. He was used to travelling. Only now the person he loved most and the place he loved most would be on either end. And if she wanted a change of pace, he could offer her that, too. Marketing Director for Border Camp didn’t have quite the ring Executive Vice President for Pace Waterman did, but he’d spend the rest of his life making damn sure the tradeoff was worth it.

  Jabbing his knuckle against the down button over and over again, Ben contemplated taking the stairs. Just when he was ready to bolt for the fire exit, the elevator doors slid open. He rushed inside, folding into the back corner, thinking of what he would say. He’d already spoken once tonight, and what he said had run her off. He didn’t want that to happen again.

  Ding. The elevator door slid open, and Ben looked up to see the letter L glowing. He blinked in surprise at the quickness of the trip. He blinked again when a gorgeous redhead appeared at the entrance.

  On the surface, Ben remained motionless as Scarlett stepped inside, but his heart thrashed in his chest.

  “Where were you headed?” she asked, speaking slow and low, blinking a lot and wringing her hands.

  He wasn’t sure how to take her nervousness. Maybe she was heading back to her room with no intention of ever speaking to him again. If so, tough luck, sweetheart. He straightened his shoulders. Everything happened for a reason. And the reason he was meeting her in this elevator was because he had more to say.

  “I was coming to find you,” Ben answered simply and honestly.

  The door closed behind her, and she stepped forward again, dropping her hands to her side and lifting the corners of her lips just a smidge. “I was coming to find you, too.”

  Thank, God. Her news made him smile, made him relax. “You ever wondered what would’ve happened if we went looking for each other sooner? Say, fifteen years ago?”

  She closed the gap between them, winding arms around his neck. “I think this would’ve happened.” She kissed him soft at first, void of heat, just a lip brush as he felt her breathe, and then she licked the center of his upper lip, stirring the need between them. “I love you,” she whispered. “I want to make this work.”

  They were the sweetest words he’d ever heard. Holding her, kissing her, his whole life fell into place … and all because Boston had shipped him off to Orlando.

  Everything happens for a reason. Ben Border would never doubt it again.

  “Good. Because I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  “Oh, you do, do you?” Her hand slid down and squeezed his ass.

  “Not that kind,” he said, grinning. “This one involves a … well, a tradeoff of sorts.” He sobered a little, worried slightly that she’d change her mind.

  But Scarlett just grinned back. “Then let’s make a deal.”

  About the Author

  Elley Arden is a born and bred Pennsylvanian who has lived as far west as Utah and as far north as Wisconsin. She drinks wine like it’s water (a slight exaggeration), prefers a night at the ballpark to a night on the town, and believes almond English toffee is the key to happiness. Elley writes provocative, contemporary, series romance for Crimson Romance. For a complete list of Elley’s books, visit http://www.elleyarden.com.

  Want more Elley Arden? Be sure to check the end of this book for a sneak peek from another Crimson Romance by this author!

  Contents

  Bloom

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  About the Author

  Bloom

  Rachel Cross

  For Niki B.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to: Chris, Marcy, Julie, and my wonderful editor, Tara Gelsomino.

  Chapter One

  “Goddamn you, Asher,” Ava Bennett muttered, looking down at her eight hundred dollar Burberry boots. Why had she thought they would be appropriate for a farm? Then again, she didn’t really have any footwear that would survive the muck of a dirt road in the middle of Nowheresville on the central coast of California. It would be nothing less than a miracle if the Prius didn’t sustain lasting damage after hobbling its way in and out of the deep grooves and enormous potholes in the road. She parked the car and climbed out, grabbing her phone.

  “Still no cell coverage?” She groaned with exasperation as she squinted and waved the phone in the air. Nothing. How could that be? This was California, land of technology—she wrinkled her nose—and the land of manure, apparently. She thrust the phone, which was still dutifully searching for a signal, back into her cavernous, orange leather bag. She locked the door, looked down, and let out a squeal.

  Fluorescent green liquid was leaking into her boots. Wasn’t this supposed to be an organic farm? That didn’t look organic, whatever it wa
s. Or was that coming from her car?

  Damn Asher Lowe and his favors. Apparently, it wasn’t enough that she’d made his annual arthritis fundraiser the social event of the L.A. season and elicited hundreds of thousands of dollars in donations. No. He’d cajoled her into driving five hours up to Watsonville to check up on some long-lost buddy of his who didn’t answer his phone and now her car was bleeding Mountain Dew.

  Asher had only given her the name Nate, and the name of the place: Ray’s Organics. Her GPS was no help—once she’d left the freeway she had no cellular connection. She’d made three wrong turns until finally she’d happened upon the tiny lettered sign for Ray’s at the end of the long-rutted drive. This guy could use some marketing help. He didn’t even have a web presence—or voicemail for that matter. To save herself the trip, she’d tried to track him down, making several calls to the number listed for the farm but no one ever answered.

  How a farmer became friends with rock legend and front man for Spade, Asher Lowe, was mystifying. Asher and his father, billionaire mogul Sterling, had made major contributions at each and every one of her events over the years and encouraged their well-heeled associates to do the same. If they hadn’t, who knows where she’d be now. Probably back planning weddings in sleepy Cielito. She ignored the pang of nostalgia. If she’d realized this farm was hours away and damned near impossible to find, she’d have told him to forget it.

  She was already swamped with planning details for the upcoming annual ball for the Pediatric Cancer Foundation. Their board was a joy to work with. But she’d been contracted to manage the event for the past four years and looking ahead to the next event no longer filled her with excitement, it filled her with dread. She’d taken on too much these last few years, but found it impossible to say no to groups that supported kids and adults with cancer, arthritis, and a host of other ills. After all, it was a tough time to be in the charitable fundraising business. Soliciting donations in this economic climate was difficult, but she exceeded her goals each year in large part due to the generosity of the Lowes.