Not that she knew what had happened. One thing was for sure, after the press conference she wasn’t letting Alex Winters go anywhere before he told her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
A gust of wind blew up as her dad raised another laugh from the crowd. Maggie pulled the collar of her coat a little closer. If she’d known that Winters was going to be dumb enough to hold an outdoor press conference at this time of year, she would’ve grabbed a scarf. And different shoes. At least she’d found a pair of gloves shoved in her coat pocket. Alex had talked for almost thirty minutes before he’d started taking questions, and it was starting to look like they’d be here a while longer before the press let them go.
There was another rumble of laughter and then the sound died away. Another blast of wind made the Saints banners behind the podium snap like gunfire as her dad stepped back from the microphones and Alex took up his position once again.
“Next question.”
“What about the other teams? Do you have the owners’ votes?”
She turned her head at that, hope blooming. The other owners. She hadn’t even thought about the fact that they needed to vote in favor of the sale for it to be allowed to go ahead. Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe Alex and his little cadre wouldn’t be able to buy the Saints after all. She had a sudden urge to cross her fingers and wish for just that, but she restrained herself as Alex smiled at the press.
“I’m confident we have the numbers we need,” Alex said. There wasn’t even the faintest hint of uncertainty in his voice and her little curl of hope shriveled. “Though I’m sure you’ll understand that I can’t talk about that right now. So, who had another question?”
“What about Saint Maggie? What does she think about the sale?”
Alex laughed. “I’ll let her tell you that. Maggie?”
She blinked, startled by the question. “Me?” she squeaked. Then mentally winced. She knew how to deal with the press. Acting like Bambi caught in the headlights wasn’t a recommended technique. “Sorry, can you repeat the question?”
“What do you think about all these changes at the Saints?”
She felt Alex and her dad both turn their gazes on her. For one wild moment she was tempted to yell “it sucks,” but then she managed to remember her agreement with Winters. “I’m with Dad,” she managed. “I think it’s going to be great.”
She glanced upward at Alex. His grin widened. Pleased with how she was performing. Which made her feel a little like a dancing bear. And about as happy as a bear to be in the middle of this circus. Still, she’d made her deal so she was going to stick with it. She made sure her own smile stayed wide and looked back at the sea of faces in front of her.
“And will you be working for the Saints? You graduated a few months ago, right?”
She couldn’t actually see which reporter was yelling the questions. Just as well for him. Because if she knew, he would be off the Saints Christmas card list and onto her personal shit list.
“I—”
“Maggie has a home at the Saints as long as she wants one,” Alex cut in smoothly.
She felt her jaw begin to drop and caught it just in time. “I—” she tried again.
Alex draped an arm around her shoulder. “The place wouldn’t be the same without her. We know that. And we know she’s got the brains to go with the beauty. In fact, I’m hoping she’ll agree to throw the first pitch of the season.”
The first pitch? That was months away. Did he seriously expect her to still be helping him out in four months? Dread twisted in her stomach. What exactly was it that he was going to tell her after this? But there was nothing she could do about that now. Right now she just had to smile and play the game. “I’d love to. I’m not going anywhere, I swear.”
She hoped it was true. But April was a long way away and she had no idea what might happen between now and then. Or if she could even bear to stay. She hadn’t thrown the first pitch of the first game since the year she’d turned eighteen. Her birthday was April Fool’s Day. His baseball baby, her dad had always called her, so it had been perfect timing. The Saints had even won the game. She’d been thrilled. She didn’t think she was going to be so thrilled this time. Trust Alex Winters to find a way to spoil even that for her.
Alex smiled down at her and didn’t take his arm away. Once again she noticed just how damn good he smelled. If someone had asked her to describe her perfect man scent, it would be his. It made the female part of her want to breathe deep and snuggle closer into his embrace. Which was never going to happen. It was just more evidence that the universe had it in for her, making this man—who was doing his best to ruin her life—so damned appealing. And further proof that he’d made a pact with the devil.
But as he’d just pointed out, she had a brain. A damned good one. And it was going to remain firmly in charge of this situation.
Chapter Four
The press conference wrapped up after an eternity of rapid-fire questions that Alex handled like a pro. Maggie beat a hasty retreat toward the warmth of indoors as soon as the press began to pack up. She accepted a cup of coffee from Gardner with gratitude, stripping off her gloves to warm her half-frozen fingers on the mug. She kept her coat on, wanting the extra layer until she started to thaw out. Alex, Lucas, and Malachi came in as a pack. Tall, handsome, and almost unbearably self-confident. They moved like kings. Solid in the knowledge that the universe would do what they wanted.
She wasn’t sure she was up to dealing with three of them right now. Alex was bad enough. If his friends were as aggravating as him, then it didn’t bear thinking about. Still, she couldn’t help admiring the sight of the three of them together.
Talk about eye candy.
They definitely weren’t going to have much trouble winning the female Saints fans to their cause.
Malachi, tallest of the three, needed a haircut but his dark brown eyes smiled in a rugged, chiseled face and his rangy, muscular frame did excellent things for the suit he wore. Lucas, the quietest of the three from what she’d seen so far, was just plain gorgeous. Dark hair cut short, bright blue eyes and olive skin put together in an Italian-movie-star kind of way. His navy suit fit him like a glove, the faint pinstripes delineating the very nice planes of his body, speaking of hand tailoring and money.
And then there was Alex.
Delectable as the other two were, she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting to him. In all his annoying green-eyed and “just stepped off a beach somewhere” golden-haired glory. He too wore his suit with ease, though Maggie got the feeling that he’d rather be in the jeans and blazer he’d worn in almost every press image she’d ever seen of him.
She gripped her coffee tighter trying to figure out if there was any way of leaving the room without being seen. She wanted to know what Alex had to tell her but she definitely didn’t want to have that conversation in front of an audience. Nor did she feel particularly like socializing. The players were starting to drift in behind the terrible trio. If Alex had any sense, he’d send them home before they could start asking too many questions. They had behaved at the press conference, but behind closed doors, they weren’t likely to stay polite for very long.
She backed toward the door. Perhaps she’d go hide out somewhere up near Tom’s—no, Alex’s; she caught herself again—office and Winters could come and find her. She made it a few feet out of the room before the man himself materialized by her side.
“Going somewhere?”
“Just need a breather,” she said. “Not really in the mood to hang out with all the guys.”
“I thought you loved the players.”
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I want to be grilled by them about your little coup.”
“Hardly a coup.”
She sighed. “I don’t want to argue. Can’t you just let me go?”
He tilted his head. “I’m not sure I want to be grilled by them either. Tell you what, how about we get out of here?”
“You can’t ju
st leave. You’ve got some explaining to do.” She nodded toward the room they’d just left.
“Team meeting tomorrow. They can ask all their questions then. Not everyone is here today anyway.”
“No, because they’re enjoying their vacation.” The punishing baseball schedule didn’t leave a lot of opportunities for downtime. The wives and girlfriends and families of the players tended to be fierce about guarding their limited off-season chances to spend time together.
“Well, they can go back to enjoying it after tomorrow. But hey, if you want to stay here, I’m sure everyone would be happy to say hello.” He turned as if to yell over his shoulder.
“Don’t!”
He turned back. “Your choice. Dinner with me or quality time with the team.”
“Dinner? Who said anything about dinner?”
“It’s almost five. By the time we get back to the city, it will be dinnertime. Besides, talking to the press always makes me hungry.”
“My car’s back at Dad’s.”
“If you want to come back to get it, I’ll get my guy to bring you after dinner. Or in the morning.”
He had a driver. Of course he had a driver.
“Or I can just get someone to drive it back to you,” he offered. “Whatever suits you. So, dinner?”
“I thought we needed to talk. It didn’t sound like a conversation we should have in public.”
“We can eat at my place.”
“No.” The denial shot out of her mouth before she had time to think. Definitely no. No walking into the devil’s lair. The legends were pretty clear about what happened to women who descended into the underworld as well. There were no heroes in the wings waiting to rescue them. She had a horrible feeling if she let Alex Winters get under her skin then she’d be lost.
“Your place?” Alex suggested.
That didn’t sound much better but it was definitely the lesser of two evils. “If you like takeout.”
“You don’t cook?”
“I don’t cook for you.”
It came out bitchier than she intended. For a moment she thought he winced before he regained control. It gave her a tiny pang of guilt but one that evaporated rapidly when she remembered what he’d done. Still, she had to work with him for the next few months if she was going to keep the promise she’d just made on live television. “Besides, I just got back from a trip and my fridge is pretty empty. But I have takeout menus.”
“Sold.” He motioned her toward the elevator. “I’ll tell the guys I’m taking off. They can hold the fort. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
* * *
Maggie emerged in the parking lot and hesitated, wondering where exactly Alex’s car might be. But then she spotted three cars parked in the slots next to her dad’s. Well, two cars and a gleaming Harley. She figured the Harley wasn’t Alex’s, he didn’t strike her as the bike type. The two cars were a big red Jeep and a silver Mercedes convertible. She guessed the Mercedes would be it.
The elevator dinged behind her and she turned as the doors slid open. Alex stepped out, spinning a set of keys in his hand. He aimed the fob at the two cars and, to her surprise, it was the Jeep that flashed its lights.
So he was a Jeep guy? Interesting. And where was the driver?
He must have seen her looking. “I was in the mood to drive myself today.” He opened the passenger door, gestured her in. “Jump in.”
“Jump” was expecting a little too much enthusiasm but she climbed in. “I thought the Mercedes was more your style.”
Alex shook his head. “That’s Lucas’s latest toy. I have an Aston when I want to get fancy and a BMW for my driver, but I like the Jeep. Especially for trekking out to the wilds.”
“Staten Island is hardly the wilds.”
“Anywhere off Manhattan is the wilds.” He grinned.
New Yorkers. “You grew up in Queens, right?”
“Yeah. Born and bred.” He started the car, slipped it into reverse, and backed out of the car park. “How did you know that?”
“I do my research.” She wasn’t going to admit she’d done a whole case study on him. Not that she’d spent much time on his early years other than basic biographical details. She knew he had a brother and two sisters, that his dad had been a subway driver and his mom a nurse. She knew he’d gone to college at Yale and graduated summa cum laude.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
* * *
Alex stayed silent as he gunned the big car down the expressway toward the city. He didn’t want to have the conversation that he was about to have in the car. He didn’t particularly want to have it at all. He’d hoped that Tom would man up and tell his daughter the truth. But that apparently hadn’t happened.
He wasn’t looking forward to adding to the tension and worry that had turned the woman next to him from the grinning, happy girl she was in all the Saints pictures—all fire and energy—to someone fairly vibrating with hurt and anger.
She sat huddled in her big gray coat, as though it might somehow protect her against whatever was to come. It wasn’t cold in the Jeep, the heater was doing its job admirably, but Maggie looked frozen all the same, all the spark drained out of her.
She’d done brilliantly at the press conference, better than he could have hoped for. Just the right balance of confidence and banter. She’d had them eating out of her hand. Of course, she probably only had to smile and turn those dark eyes on most men to have them eating out of her hand.
She hadn’t even balked at his little first-pitch invention. He should’ve thought that through a little more. He still didn’t know whether it was genius on his part or the part of him that was really just interested in finding an excuse to touch her that had made him put his arm around her and make his announcement. He’d been more occupied with the feel of her close to him than with what she’d actually said. Luckily for him, she’d come up with the right answer while he was wondering what the scent was that drifted up from her hair, cutting through the cold and the unmistakable baseball smell of the stadium. Whether she’d still be here in April when the time actually came was another matter altogether, but for now the media beast was happy.
Unlike Maggie.
Fair enough. In her place, he’d be mad as well but mad wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and what he needed was to make sure she channeled that energy into something that wouldn’t work against his plans.
He had no doubt that Maggie could rally the Saints players and employees and the fans against him if she chose to. Maybe even turn a few of the other teams’ owners around and get them to vote against the sale. She was tight with the captain’s fiancée, not to mention the starting pitcher’s wife. No doubt she knew all the wives and girlfriends and Alex wasn’t dumb enough to underestimate the havoc they could wreak. They could make the players’ lives hell if they chose.
Hell, Maggie could probably rally the players too. He’d seen them all watching her as she stood beside him on the podium. There’d been more than one faint frown in his direction when he’d draped his arm around her shoulder—just as well they couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking—and way more than one look of faint relief when she said she’d still be around. She was part of the team, part of the Saints family. And right now, possibly the closest thing to being the glue that would hold them all together until he and Mal and Lucas found their way in as well.
If only he could get a do-over on yesterday. He would’ve made sure that she’d known what was going on. Tried to figure out a way to make her somewhat happier about the transition.
But there were no do-overs in baseball or in life. Once the ball hit the glove, the play was over and you just had to accept it and figure out the next play. Maggie didn’t like him, didn’t like the situation, and was probably only going to be unhappier still once he’d told her the whole of it. Which meant—and the fact that he couldn’t decide if this was good or bad was worrying—that the memory of her warm shoulders under his arm was likely to be the closest
he got to her, ever.
In her place he’d tell himself to go to the devil too and run straight into the arms of the nearest baseball team that would have her. He didn’t doubt that somebody would give her a job. She was obviously smart and she knew the game backward. Not many people had her sort of pedigree. It was unlikely to be the sort of job she had wanted at the Saints though. There were no female CEOs in MLB. Not yet. And without the added push of being the owner’s daughter, she’d have to fight like hell to ever end up in that position somewhere else. Unless she went to the minors.
He couldn’t see it.
But right now neither could he see how to win her over to his side. She was too mad to succumb to charm and he couldn’t do the thing that would make her not mad and undo the deal. Even if he’d wanted to, which he didn’t.
He tapped one finger on the steering wheel while he thought about it. Mal or Lucas would have ideas, but he’d hustled her out of there without giving them a chance to even speak to her for long, and he could hardly call and strategize with them with Maggie riding shotgun. So he’d just have to wing it.
* * *
As Alex slowed and turned to ease the car into the garage at Maggie’s building, she shook herself from her reverie, blinking a little as she realized they’d arrived. She hadn’t even registered the transition from Brooklyn to Manhattan. She wouldn’t have been able to say which way they’d come through the city to SoHo. Alex hadn’t asked which way was fastest.
Figured.
Men like him didn’t ask for directions. They just plunged ahead, sure of themselves. She knew the type well. Her father was one. And half the players on the team.
He parked in one of the guest spots, switched off the ignition, then climbed out and came round and opened the door for her.
Manners.
It was one small point in his favor. She managed to say “thank you” as she got out of the Jeep. Nerves coiled, fierce and tight, in her stomach, now that they’d arrived. She’d managed to wrestle them into submission during the drive over but now they had broken free again.
The Devil in Denim Page 5