Curveball (The Philadelphia Patriots)

by Sykes, V. K.

  “Exactly, man,” Nate said. “I bet you’re aiming the ball.”

  Cade, the guy who threw almost as hard as Carter, said, “Have you been studying your videos? When my mechanics get messed up, the first thing I do is sit down with the pitching coach and study every pitch going back to the time my delivery started to go south.”

  Ryan and Delgado had spent hours doing exactly that. “Yeah. My mechanics look okay, but sometimes I’m hesitating and then rushing.”

  “Marriner’s right,” Nick Rome said. The hulking catcher had become the team’s acknowledged field general since last year’s stretch run. “You gotta stop thinking about screwing up. I don’t know what it’s gonna take to get that done, but you can’t have it in your head that every throw you make is going to be air-mailed.”

  Stop thinking negatively. Throw like you were still a kid.

  Ryan wished like hell it was that easy.

  He shrugged. “That’s all good advice, guys. I’m going to keep working my ass off to get through this crap. I can guarantee you that, at least.”

  He gave them a smile he surely didn’t feel. Ryan remembered exactly what it felt like to throw as a kid, and could see himself with perfect clarity as he played catch with his dad at the dirt field behind the elementary school bordering their back yard. Nate was right—it was a snap for a coordinated kid, and it had been blissfully simple for him for nearly thirty years.

  But would it ever be easy for Ryan Locke again?

  * * *

  TAYLOR LET Her tired eyes drift around the lounge of the posh Four Seasons Hotel as she waited for Maddie Miller to return from the rest room. After bumping into Maddie at the ballpark, she’d impulsively asked the petite sportswriter—and wife of Jake Miller—if she wanted to grab a drink after the game. Taylor had actually been surprised when she agreed, since Maddie had a wee toddler waiting for her at home with a babysitter. But Maddie had seemed keen, so they’d met at the downtown hotel near Logan Square.

  Ryan was ducking her tonight and, though she was hardly surprised, she was far from happy about it. His message on her cell phone had both disturbed and hurt her. Claiming he was overdue to have a beer with some of his teammates, he’d said he might call her tomorrow.

  Might.

  Taylor had left an icily curt message in reply, simply accepting what he’d said.

  But in fact she didn’t accept it. Having a brew with teammates was totally fine, but after they’d parted on such cool, strained terms the previous evening, she could only take his message as a brush-off. No matter how much she’d expected something like that might happen—hell, she’d even doubted that he’d call at all—his rejection stung her more deeply than she could have imagined.

  From Maddie, Taylor had learned that her husband and four other Patriot veterans had insisted that Ryan go out drinking with them tonight. Apparently, the guys were convinced that Ryan was wound up so tight that he was losing his natural coordination. They wanted to show their full support and counsel him to stop overthinking the problem and relax.

  Nice work, guys. Just what Ryan needs—to be told to relax and everything will be fine.

  She’d been forced to bite her tongue when Maddie told her what was going on. Though the players obviously meant well, Taylor was convinced that they were giving Ryan tired and essentially useless advice.

  As much as Ryan’s behavior had wounded her, Taylor didn’t regret having pushed him hard over his stubborn refusal to consider her suggestion for how to address his throwing problems. Like just about every other baseball player she’d ever met, he subscribed to the time-honored myth that slumps were something you just had to suffer through, and that with patience and hard work all would be well in time.

  It wasn’t true. Taylor might never have endured a slump herself, but she’d spent her life studying the game and seen too many solid and promising careers destroyed by so-called inexplicable problems. Convinced that Ryan was headed in that direction, she’d done her level best to steer him onto a different course, even at the cost of damaging their relationship. Unfortunately, he’d reacted as if she’d questioned his very manhood.

  Was this going to be one of those cases where a person has to hit rock bottom before he does what he needs to do?

  Taylor couldn’t bear even thinking about it. Ryan wasn’t one of those superstars that teams would grant endless time and latitude to overcome their problems. He was a fine player, but not an All-Star, and injuries and Father Time had combined to make his status precarious. If he wasn’t able to resolve his throwing issue in short order, Taylor had little doubt that Dembinski would take drastic action—one she’d be powerless to counter.

  When Maddie returned, sliding into her seat at the other side of the tiny cocktail table, she’d fixed the jet black hair that had been mussed by the Patriots’ ball cap she’d worn to the game. Like Taylor, Maddie was shorter than average, but the woman had a curvaceous figure that looked amazing in her outfit of tight, designer jeans, a white tee shirt and a short tailored leather jacket in a deep blue shade. Her eyes were a lighter but equally vivid blue, which set up a dynamite contrast with her glossy hair. For a thirty-something mom with an infant, Maddie couldn’t have been much sexier.

  Taylor raised her glass in a toast. “Thanks again for doing this, Maddie. I don’t get many chances to talk to women these days, other than my mother and sister-in-law.”

  Maddie clinked her cognac snifter against Taylor’s. “It’s my pleasure. By the way, I love what you do with your hair. And you always look so fantastic and put-together.”

  Taylor involuntarily glanced down at her Patriots’ warm-up jacket. Underneath she wore a simple cotton top in lavender and a new pair of jeggings that admittedly flattered her figure. Compared to Maddie, though, she thought she looked like a few miles of rough road. “I was surprised that they let me in the door of this fancy place,” she scoffed.

  “Nonsense.” Maddie gave a dismissive wave. “Jake and I have been meaning to invite you to dinner after the team got back from Florida. If you’ll come, I’ll invite Nate and Holly, too. They’ve both told me how much they like you.”

  Really?

  “I’d like that very much,” Taylor said gratefully.

  Maddie’s smile was warm and genuine. “Good. We’ll set a date soon. And you should feel free to bring a date, of course.”

  Though that invitation was probably normal and signified nothing but politeness, Taylor couldn’t help wondering if Maddie—through Jake or Nate—had gotten wind of something going on between her and Ryan.

  “Are you seeing someone now, Taylor?” Maddie added, as if reading her thoughts. Then she gave a cute little chuckle. “I don’t mean to pry, but it seems that practically every guy in the Patriots’ organization has had some sort of typical male fantasy about you. Including my Cro-Magnon husband, I’m afraid.”

  Taylor couldn’t help blushing. Yes, she’d had her share of appreciative glances as well as a few suggestive remarks since she’d joined the team in January, but no one had even asked her out on a date. Not until Ryan. She supposed it didn’t help that she was one of the top officers with the ball club. Who wanted to date one of their bosses?

  Ryan Locke, apparently.

  She decided to ignore Maddie’s playful remark, but sensed an opening to turn the conversation to her possible advantage. She’d heard the story of how Maddie and Jake got together, and it now struck a chord with her.

  “I’ve been so busy since I got the new job,” she said in a light voice. “Maybe now that the team’s back in town for the season…” She let her voice trail off.

  The dodge didn’t sound at all convincing even to her, and she doubted that Maddie was buying that line.

  “I hear you, sister,” Maddie said. “My career was everything to me, too, and I hardly ever dated. But all that changed fast after I met Jake.”

  Taylor nodded. “You were covering the Patriots for the Post at the time, but then you gave it up after you and Jake
got together, right? Because you were under pressure?”

  Maddie took a sip of her cognac and gently set the delicate glass back down on the table. “You could say that. At the very least, I knew it would eventually have to come down to a choice. As much as I loved covering the Patriots and baseball, I had to accept that I couldn’t keep that assignment and be with Jake. Both Dembinski and my editor made that crystal clear. I probably could have switched to another beat at the paper, but I realized I was ready to take some time off and devote myself to Jake.” She broke into a wide smile. “And to starting a family.”

  That was exactly what Taylor had heard via the rumor mill a while back. Maddie had been faced with a stark choice—continue on her preferred career path, or be with the man she loved. It certainly seemed as if she was completely comfortable with the choice she’d made. But her words left Taylor with a sick feeling in her stomach. Getting involved with a ballplayer had inevitable consequences. Major, possibly fatal, consequences to one’s career. She’d known that, and yet still had slid so easily into Ryan’s arms and bed.

  “No regrets?” Taylor said softly.

  “Are you kidding?” Maddie said, her eyes going wide. “God, no. I totally loved the Patriots beat, but nowhere near as much as I love Jake. Besides, when one door closes on your career, another one usually opens up. I’ve been lucky, because now I’m able to have the best of both worlds. After I took some time off with the baby, I started writing feature articles for the Post and magazines. And I’ve just rolled out a blog, too.”

  “And you’re able to work out of home so you can be with your little guy all day,” Taylor said wistfully.

  Maddie grinned. “Bonus, huh?”

  Taylor tried to return the grin. “I’m really glad it’s worked out so well for you, Maddie.”

  But how could it ever work for me? I could hardly be a freelance GM. Anyway, Ryan may never speak to me again.

  Taylor suddenly felt flushed. Perhaps they were too close to the fireplace that was pouring heat into the crowded lounge. She picked up the glass of ice water she’d asked for earlier and took a big drink. In truth, she felt like pouring it over her head.

  Maddie shot her a piercing look. “You’re flushed, Taylor. Are you all right?”

  Taylor nodded, pulling herself together. Every time she thought about Ryan and how impossible their situation was proving to be, she seemed to either get chills or hot flashes. God, how had she let herself get in so deep with the man? It defied all logic, and showed she wasn’t nearly as mentally strong as she’d always thought she was. “I’m fine. It’s just bit warm in here, isn’t it?”

  Maddie looked as cool as the proverbial cucumber. “Yes, a little,” she said, probably just to be nice. The dark-haired woman tilted her head as her brows pinched in a frown. “Taylor, I get the feeling you want to tell me something, but you’re fighting it.”

  Taylor froze. As much as she wanted to be able to confide in someone—and Maddie seemed to be about as sympathetic and trustworthy as they came—she knew it would be risky and stupid to talk about her dilemma with anyone else. And especially with the wife of a Patriot.

  Maddie leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Taylor, are you involved with someone on the team? Is that what you can’t bring yourself to say?”

  God, Taylor thought she must be utterly transparent, or else Maddie was some kind of psychic. She swallowed hard, her mind whirling.

  “Because if that’s the case, you can talk to me, honey,” Maddie continued. “Whatever you tell me won’t go anywhere else, I promise you. Not even to Jake.” She reached for Taylor’s hand. “I think you need someone to talk to, don’t you?”

  It was all Taylor could do not to burst into stupid tears. How pathetic was it that she had nobody she could confide in? Bridget had never been that person for her, and on this subject the only thing Taylor would get from her mother was a lecture, probably delivered in a semi-hysterical tone. And her brother? She’d get a more sympathetic hearing from a taxi driver or a bartender. She’d never felt close to her sister-in-law, either, and Samantha tended to see the world in terms almost as black and white as her husband.

  “I’ve been seeing a player for a while,” Taylor said softly. The words seemed to slip out of her mouth unbidden. “But it may already be over.”

  Maddie’s face betrayed no reaction. She’d probably honed that skill in thousands of hours of one-on-one interviews. “Obviously one of the Patriots.”

  Taylor nodded, her eyes still cast down at her drink.

  “I’m afraid you’ve made me awfully curious which one,” Maddie gently probed.

  Taylor shrugged. “Does it matter? It’s wrong no matter who it is.”

  Maddie looked momentarily startled. “Wrong? That’s an interesting choice of words.”

  Taylor disengaged her hand from Maddie’s, then picked up her cognac and took a sip. “Okay, stupid. Dangerous. Self-destructive. Take your pick.”

  Maddie flashed a quick grin. “Been there. Done that. Don’t regret it.” She picked up her snifter and sat back in her chair. “You’re obviously hurting, so it must be serious, no?”

  Oh, serious enough that I think about him twenty-four seven.

  “All I know for sure is that I should never have let myself become involved with him in the first place. If it isn’t over now, I should walk away fast, anyway.”

  “Wow, that serious, huh?” Maddie had obviously picked up on her tone and her body language, not just her words.

  “I felt like I was losing myself in him, Maddie, and that’s the last thing I need.”

  Maddie nodded. “I hear you. But I can’t help thinking about my experience with Jake. Are you sure you were really losing yourself? Maybe you were just finding a different Taylor.”

  Taylor forced a laugh that held a bitter note. “Yeah, a Taylor who’s about to get herself unemployed if she doesn’t smarten up.”

  Maddie winced. “Well, there’s that. How does this guy feel about you? It must have felt a little weird to him to be sleeping with somebody in management.”

  “He didn’t give much of a damn, though he said he understood why I think the way I do. But he didn’t really get it. He said you have to go for it if you want something badly enough.” Taylor was starting to think of Ryan and her in the past tense, and that realization rocked her, too.

  “So, he thought you didn’t want him badly enough?” Maddie asked.

  Taylor sighed. “I guess not. I kept trying to push him away. Sort of, at least.”

  “But not entirely succeeding, it seems.”

  “My signals were a little mixed,” Taylor had to admit.

  “Because you were worried that when the relationship came out, it would jeopardize your job.”

  Taylor nodded. “How could it not? Dembinski would have been apoplectic. I’d have had to resign if I wanted to maintain the relationship.”

  “I don’t know,” Maddie said in a skeptical voice. “Lots of players have dated women in their organizations. Aidan Marriner had a thing with the team’s Public Affairs Director for quite a while.”

  “Sure, but the PA Director doesn’t make player personnel decisions,” Taylor countered. “I do.”

  “But not on your own, I think,” Maddie countered.

  “No,” Taylor acknowledged. “Not on anything really significant, anyway. Dembinski always has the final say.”

  Maddie gave her a satisfied look. “Exactly. So, if you’d owned up to the relationship, maybe you could have declared a conflict of interest when it came to the player in question and not become involved in anything to do with him.”

  Taylor had pondered that possible solution many times but always rejected it. “With some GM’s that might have worked. But with Dembinski? Come on, Maddie, you know the guy as well as I do, maybe better. Would he ever buy into something like that?”

  Maddie lifted a shoulder in a little shrug. “Honestly, Taylor, I don’t know. Dave ca
n be a colossal jerk at times, but I know he thinks very highly of your ability. I wouldn’t want to have to bet my house on which way he’d go, but I’d say it’s far from a lost cause.”

  Taylor took a little heart from Maddie’s guarded optimism. She had obviously concluded from Taylor’s tone and body language that she didn’t think the relationship was necessarily over for good.

  But then she gave her head a hard mental shake. Why was she letting herself be lulled into harboring some fanciful thought that she could somehow have both Ryan and the future with the Patriots she longed for? She couldn’t even envision walking into Dembinski’s office and laying that future on the line. She’d worked her butt off, at the cost of any kind of personal life, to get to exactly where she wanted to be—in the heart of the best organization in baseball, and in sight of the one job she’d coveted all her life.

  “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Maddie,” Taylor said with as bright a smile as she could manage under the circumstances. “Thanks so much for this.”

  Maddie gave her a skeptical smile but let it slide, smoothly switching to an amusing anecdote about her little son.

  A lot to think about.

  Wasn’t that the truth? Although she had no desire to risk her career for Ryan Locke or anyone else, she had to acknowledge that the chances of her walking away from him forever weren’t much bigger than the splash of cognac remaining in her glass. If the relationship was going to die, Taylor had little doubt that Ryan would have to be the one to drive the final stake into its heart.

  22

  “IT REALLY HIT home yesterday when Jack told me he’d decided to bench Locke.” Dembinski’s rough voice was sandpaper on Taylor’s skin. “The thought of putting Cruz into the lineup for at least the next few games hit me like a kick in the gut.”

  As was often the case, the GM had been tied up in meetings all morning. Normally, Taylor would have been invited to take part in at least the meeting with the Director of Minor League Scouting, but for some reason Dembinski had kept her out. Now, when she’d screwed up her courage and asked him why, he’d given her a brusque nod to order her into his office and then wound up ignoring the question, anyway.