Saving Maverick

by Debra Elise

  Kelsey attempted to put the phone call with Maverick out of her mind as she checked her watch. She had one more appointment today before she could unwind with Lara and Noel over a bottle of wine.

  Two hours later she couldn’t block out the memory of his kisses or his lingering offer. She powered down the new iMac T.S. had provided for her office and made a dash for the parking garage. She’d spent enough time researching Maverick’s background and reading everything ever written about him. He was pretty much an open book. He lived his life on the edge, but not once had he been arrested or accused of anything nefarious.

  He was simply a man who enjoyed playing baseball, good whiskey, and women. However, she had come across an in-depth article about the accident that killed his brother. She hadn’t realized Maverick and his younger brother, Connor, had been out partying that night and Maverick had been too drunk to drive.

  Connor had ended up driving them home. And the semi had struck on the driver’s side. Maverick’s pitching arm had been injured, but all of his medical records indicated it had not been career ending. He was dealing with something much deeper than a drinking problem. If she had to guess, he blamed himself and it was messing with his head and his confidence on the mound.

  Kelsey pulled into the parking lot of the Children’s Club. It was her first step in shining a more positive light on Maverick’s reputation. He needed her attention on his image, not his ability to make her feel like a sex-starved virgin.

  The building was new and impressive. The community had held numerous fund-raisers in order to ensure the club had its own space. One that would grow with the needs of the area’s youth and provide room for numerous activities.

  Kelsey was captivated with the open layout of the facility. The warm forest green and various shades of gold of the Outlaws’ colors, one of their major sponsors, were splashed on the walls in geometric designs. She crossed her fingers that with the connection to the team, the director would be willing to look past Maverick’s recent troubles and allow him to work with the kids.

  The highlight of the lobby was the display of framed awards presented to its members and more importantly, the kids. When the director, Sam Davis, finished her tour in one of the classrooms, she walked over to read a couple of signs posted on the corkboard. “Excuse limit 0” and “Score with hard work” held prominent space among the day’s posted lessons.

  This was a place Maverick could shine and hopefully make a difference while also showing his fans he thought about others as much or more than scoring with a stripper. She’d start him off slow, no publicity photos at first. She wanted to make sure there were no accusations of a dog and pony show. Even if that was closer to the truth than Maverick coming up with this idea purely on his own with no hidden agenda.

  “Thank you for giving me a call, Ms. Sullivan. I can’t tell you how excited the staff was when I told them the news Maverick Jansen wanted to volunteer with the kids.” Sam was built like a football player, a bit out of place for this type of job, but everyone had a backstory.

  He was cute and friendly, but she could also sense a hesitation in his voice. He’d undoubtedly read and heard about Maverick’s current problem. She needed to assure Sam that was in Mav’s past. That he’d done volunteer work when he was in Boston and wanted to continue that here in his new community.

  “Sam, thank you again for seeing me so quickly. I want to make sure you understand that we won’t be dragging photographers in here at the first opportunity.”

  The director’s face changed the moment he smiled. Not the Plain-Joe she’d originally thought him to be. Interesting. “Ms. Sullivan, we take our kids’ privacy seriously. Even if that was your or Mr. Jansen’s intent, we would put the kibosh on it right away. He may be a superstar, but in here he’ll be treated and expected to act like any other volunteer we allow into the club.”

  “Good to know,” Kelsey said.

  Sam Davis was no pushover and any thoughts of being able to skirt around the “no photos” rules were shot down faster than she’d hoped.

  She’d have to come up with a different way of eventually getting the word out that Maverick was doing volunteer work in his off hours. Maybe a photo of him exiting his car in front of the building? That had definite possibilities.

  “What is your policy on matching up a volunteer with one of the kids in your program? Do you try to match similar interests or . . . ?”

  “No, we don’t match up anybody. We assess what strengths an applicant possesses and we ask them to work with a group of kids. It’s rarely one-on-one unless they have a conversation. All the activities we have here are designed to be done in groups.”

  “Oh, okay, that’s fine, I must have missed that when I read your website. Maverick will most definitely work wherever it is you need him to.” Perhaps a group of kids would be better than just one as she’d initially anticipated. Wouldn’t want to have too much of an attachment take place, depending how long Maverick is willing to play this out.

  “Ms. Sullivan, if you don’t mind my asking, why isn’t Mr. Jansen here with you? Typically, anyone who is interested in volunteering for us takes a tour to see for themselves what it’s like in here,” Sam asked.

  “Yes, you’re right and he would have been here with me if he hadn’t had pitching practice, but as his representative I can assure you he will make it a priority to be here when he’s given his assignment, should his application be accepted, that is.” Never had she felt more like an imposter than she did at that moment. Maybe this wasn’t one of her better plans?

  Maybe she should have set up a photo op at the children’s hospital? That would have taken only a couple of hours and Maverick wouldn’t have to commit so much of his free time to an organization that might kick him out anyway if he went back to his old ways.

  “As excited as we are to have Mr. Jansen work with our kids, I gotta tell you, Ms. Sullivan . . .”

  “Call me Kelsey.”

  “All right, Kelsey. I have to tell you if all he’s looking for is some positive publicity, we’d appreciate a donation of funds rather than have our kids face disappointment when he doesn’t show. That way he wouldn’t have to commit his free time to us, which I don’t think he’s going to have a lot of once the season starts, right?” He offered her a thin-lipped smile and continued. “Maybe give him a bit of time to think it over? Now that you’ve seen how we run the club, you could get back to us in the off-season?”

  Kelsey knew a challenge had been thrown down and she wasn’t going to back out of her initial commitment, and she knew Maverick wouldn’t either. She hoped.

  “Mr. Davis, if I get these forms back to you tomorrow, do you think you and your staff would have enough time to review Maverick Jansen’s application and approve it in time for him to begin this weekend? Right now his Sundays are free and I know he’s looking forward to this opportunity.” The art of negotiation and quick thinking were what had propelled her to the top of the PR field, after all.

  “He wants to come in whenever his schedule allows through spring training and the regular season. If he’s in town and it’s an off day, he’d like to volunteer a few hours here.” She watched Sam’s face as his eyebrows came together and he rubbed his chin.

  She understood Sam’s concerns but she needed this to work. For Maverick and for her future with the Outlaws organization. It was a downside of her job, but she was now resolved to make this a win-win for everyone.

  “I’m not sure that would wor—”

  “Sam, you have my word that this is not merely a publicity trick. Maverick has gone through some personal struggles of his own, yes, but now that he’s in a new community he wants to be a positive role model to the youth in this area.”

  Sam had been studying her during her impassioned speech with little emotion. Damn, she couldn’t tell if he was going to call her bluff or take her words at face value. She tried one last plea.

  “He sees this as a positive step for him and the kids. He wants to shar
e that when you face hard times head-on, like he’s done with the death of his brother and the big loss last year, you can overcome any obstacle with help. That no one’s future is set in stone.”

  She peeked out the window to make sure it was still a clear sky. If it’d been raining, she’d be struck down by lightning for her colossal fib. Those were her words, not Maverick’s. Good thing she’d crossed her fingers behind her back. Just to be safe.

  “Ms. Sullivan—I mean, Kelsey. You talk a great game, but I’m going to wait until I see Mr. Jansen in action with the kids before I pass judgment. Whether he’s committed to spending real time with kids or not, I at least want him to come in once so they have a chance to meet him. After that, we’ll see. It’s the best I can offer.”

  Kelsey let out the breath she’d been holding. It was better than nothing. “Thank you, Sam. I appreciate your honesty. I’ll be back tomorrow with the completed application.”

  He held out his hand with a smile. She accepted the chance he’d given her, actually Maverick, to prove himself with the kids.

  She left with a bounce in her step. The Children’s Club was the perfect place to begin Maverick’s redemption journey.

  Now she just needed to get Maverick on board.

  Chapter 15

  After another night of dreaming about Kelsey, Maverick woke up early, but not by choice. His smartphone was jumping fast and furious on his nightstand. He burrowed his head deeper under his pillow and attempted to put himself back into his dream. He’d finally convinced his ice princess to try out his king-size bed and he wanted to dive back in and return to dream world.

  When his phone started another round of jumping jacks, he’d had enough. “God effing dammit, what is going on that can’t wait till I’ve had my first cup of coffee?” Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and braced his hands on his knees.

  He stretched his broad back and experienced twinges in at least a half dozen muscles. Damn Luke. He’d convinced him yesterday to try some new lifts.

  “It’ll help your ball speed,” he said. “Give you better control,” he said. Well, screw that. He’d stick to his own workout routine. Besides it wasn’t bigger and better muscle tone Maverick needed to recover his signature pitch, and Luke knew it.

  When the spastic movements of his phone continued, he let out a heavy sigh and picked up what was sure to be bad news. Without looking at the screen, he carried it with him to his still immaculate kitchen to make himself a strong pot of his favorite coffee.

  He took his coffee cup and the possessed phone and went out onto his deck overlooking the nearby city park and its pond, which included a large water feature. Still early, delivery trucks meandered through the high-end planned mixed development he now called home. A few joggers passed on the tree-lined sidewalk with hands raised in greeting as they passed their fellow die-hard runners.

  Peace and tranquility, for the moment. Maverick fortified himself with a few sips of coffee and tapped in his password. The main screen, crowded with alerts, indicated twenty text messages and almost as many missed calls. There were five voicemails. What the hell? Had the stadium burned down? He looked west to where the symbol of the now infamous Scott’s Folly sat.

  He chose the oldest text, had to start somewhere. He recognized the number and he bobbled his cup. Hot coffee splashed on the back of his hand, but he didn’t notice the sting. This message appeared all in caps. YOU DIDN’T LISTEN. NOW MAYBE YOU WILL.

  Shit, what was that supposed to mean? He didn’t remember what the last text from this nutcase had actually said, so he scrolled up and read it again. “I saw you with her yesterday. She’s not good enough for you. I am.”

  So what was this person’s program? To terrorize? To mess with his head? Who had it out for him bad enough to pull this crap? Fuck.

  He began scrolling down the rest of his messages before he started on the voicemails. Text after text was filled with concern from his teammates and even his sister. Telling him he needed to check out hashtag #maverickandthewhore. What the hell? He needed another damn cup of coffee. Better make it Irish, and a double.

  He strode back inside. It was too cold out there anyway without digging out his winter parka. Privacy was needed now more than ever since he wasn’t so sure if he was being watched or not.

  He opened up his Twitter account and typed in the hashtag. Before he could finish typing his full name, a photo popped up. There in living color was Kelsey with her head thrown back with him in profile, devouring her neck and reaching under her blouse.

  The person whose help he needed the most was splashed all over social media and labeled a whore. What in the hell did he do to deserve this shit? Hadn’t he paid enough dues to last a fucking lifetime? And she certainly didn’t deserve it either.

  He dialed Kelsey’s number . . . and what? What would he say? Um, babe, our little kiss the other day on the sidewalk, where I had you pressed up against the brick wall while I had my hands all over you? Yeah, well, it’s now on the Internet. So, you want to get some dinner and maybe a movie?

  Once again, he was so screwed.

  Kelsey woke up to a pounding on her front door. Lost in a dream, she didn’t recognize what was really happening until the doorbell started chiming in between the loud knocks. She stumbled to the door, looked through the peephole and saw Lara standing there, fist raised to do more damage to her eardrums.

  She unlocked the door and stood in the entryway with arms crossed over her chest and let her now demoted best friend in. “What in the world is going on? Is there an ax murderer after you? Did you at least bring me coffee?”

  “Kelsey, I need you to sit down.” Lara pushed Kelsey toward her couch.

  “Lara, calm down, you’re scaring me,” Kelsey said.

  “Hon, I have something to show you and I’m not sure how you’re going to react, but I need you to know I’m here for you and if you—”

  “Dammit, Lara, please spill it. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Wait, did something happen with my mom? How? What?” Kelsey couldn’t believe it. Her mom had pulled another stunt and she must have called Lara to deliver the bad news.

  Lara took her cell out of her pocket. She gave Kelsey a sympathetic look and held it out to her. “It’ll be okay, Kels, I promise.”

  Kelsey took the phone but didn’t look at the screen. Instead she looked deep in her friend’s eyes. This had to be bad if her usually calm friend was acting like she expected Kelsey to fall apart.

  When she finally looked down, she gasped. The hottest moment of her life had been immortalized and displayed for all to see. Maverick’s back blocked most of her body, but that wasn’t the part that needed shielding. The photographer had snapped the exact instant she had thrown her head back and submitted to Mav’s caresses and kisses. The moment she’d given herself permission to enjoy him and forget about her damn rules.

  “Kels, you with me? Tell me what’s going through your mind. You’re scaring me.”

  Lara was still standing in front of her, running her hands through her tangled hair and biting her lip.

  “I know, water! You need a glass of water.” Lara sprinted off to Kelsey’s kitchen.

  Kelsey heard Lara banging cupboards and running the water, but it didn’t fully register. Her PR wheels began turning to make sense of what this meant for Maverick. For her. For the Outlaws. How the hell was she going to spin this, so everyone came out unscathed?

  Her hopes of a long-term position with the team faded away as she imagined what the phone call with T.S. would be like. Kelsey, what the hell? You’ve blown it in less than a week? Shame on you. It’s over, you know that don’t you? Didn’t our friendship mean anything to you?

  She’d allowed her body to overrule her judgment, and now she’d ruined not only her career but her friendship with T.S. and made it all that more difficult for Maverick to shake his bad boy image.

  Chapter 16

  “Maverick, please sit down. I’ve got this,” Kelsey said.r />
  He’d been pacing the reception area for the last five minutes, checking his watch and watching the door to the inner sanctum of the team owner.

  T.S. had called them in to see him as soon as they could manage it. Maverick was at practice and Kelsey was working on calming down Lara when he’d sent them both a text.

  “You’ve got this. Really?” Mav asked her. “And how are you going to convince him that his star player, who by the way sucks goose eggs right now, and whose image is still taking hits from a damn viral video, and the woman he hired to turn his image around, who just happens to be one his best friends, were photographed in a heavy-duty lip lock. Huh? Because I sure as hell don’t know what to do about it.”

  “I’m impressed. That was quite a display,” Kelsey said.

  “A display? What are you talking about?” Maverick asked.

  “That you were able to spit all that out without taking a breath and hyperventilating.” She crossed her arms and continued. “How about I ask you what you plan on telling T.S. about the kiss? What’s your explanation?” Kelsey asked.

  “Well, for one thing it was hot.” Maverick smiled.

  “Ah, okay, and second?” Kelsey hadn’t expected that answer.

  “Given the opportunity for a do-over, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “Brilliant. That’s your explanation? That you let your hormones rule your actions and consequences be damned?” Kelsey walked over to the picture windows that overlooked the baseball field and beyond to where the river joined Lake Coeur d’Alene. She watched one brave sailor brave the windy and bitter cold day. She was getting addicted to this view.

  “I used to know someone just like you. I thought he might be an anomaly, or a little boy in a man’s body who refused to grow up and face reality. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re all like that. And now it’s my problem to fix the bad behavior bred into all little boys who think being a baseball star gives them a free pass. And yes, I said ‘fix.’”