Hard Break (Deadlines & Diamonds, #5)

by Morgan Kearns

  “Can I talk now?”

  She nodded, laughed a bit blubbery and wiped at her face. He reached out and took her hands.

  “Kayla, do you have any idea how long I’ve wished for you to accept me? I wasn’t blowing smoke, love, when I said I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you. Watching your belly grow with Penelope nearly killed me. I wanted her to be mine.” Damn, that made him sound like a bastard. “I know it was wrong, but—”

  “I can’t give you children, Ian.”

  His expression must have said the say what, huh? he didn’t voice because she went on.

  “My tubes are tied.”

  “I know.”

  “Even if they weren’t, I’m not interested in being pregnant at my age. It wasn’t a picnic for me, ever.”

  “Kayla, you are the densest person I think I've ever met.” He kissed away her protest. “Babe, I love your kids. And if you’ll let me, I’d love to have them as our kids.”

  Her eyes popped wide. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  He figured the only way to answer was to show her how serious he was. Standing, he walked in all his naked glory—feeling cocky when her eyes locked on his ass—to the dresser. He tugged the top drawer open, dug to the bottom under his boxers and retrieved the little velvet box.

  He hadn’t planned on proposing bare-ass naked, but when the opportunity presented itself…

  Going to the side of the bed, he knelt down, looking up into her tear-filled eyes. “I am absolutely saying what you think I’m saying. I choose you. I choose you for the rest of my life. I. Choose. You. Marry me, Kay.”

  She launched herself from the bed and into his arms. They tumbled to the floor, she peppering his face with kisses, him laughing.

  “What about the kids?”

  Ian’s heart soared at knowing he’d already taken care of it. “I might’ve mentioned it to Chase. I’m pretty sure he spilled the beans to Sadie, but I don’t think Penelope knows.”

  “You asked Chase?”

  “Yeah, when we had our talk. He’s tough. I think I’ll let him interrogate the girls’ boyfriends.”

  “While you remain silent, cleaning your shotgun?”

  “Something like that.” Ian laughed. “Why don’t we get dressed and go get the kids? We’ll take them to dinner and tell them the news.”

  She kissed him, hard, bruising. She punished him for the time he’d left her, the miserable time they’d been apart. When she sat back, he took her hand, placing the eternity band on her left ring finger. He’d looked at solitaires, contemplated big and blingy, but a band with eternity in the name seemed the perfect fit.

  Her eyes lit up brighter than the sparkling diamonds. “I love it, Ian. It’s perfect.” She moved her hand, examining it.

  “Could you really love me as a firefighter?” he asked.

  A shadow crossed her eyes and he knew he’d made the right decision.

  “Yes. I will love you no matter what,” she reconfirmed.

  “Good to know.” He helped her to her feet. “But could you love me as a sports photographer?”

  She stopped moving, paused mid straightening. “What?”

  He shrugged. “That’s why I was late today. I met with Jane Pierce, the Sports Director, and interviewed for the position she had open. She offered me the job. I took it. I hope that works for you.”

  He managed nonchalance. She, however, did not. She squealed, threw her arms around his neck, pressing a whole lot of naked flesh against his. “I will love you no matter what you do, Ian. No. Matter. What. Forever.”

  Epilogue

  Chase Black couldn’t be more annoyed. His mom had picked out his clothes, making him wear a sweater. Not just any sweater either. The stupid thing was red with white deer on it. He wondered if after this lame party he could burn it without his mom finding out.

  Maybe Ian could run interference.

  Man, he loved having Ian around. After the wedding next week, Ian was going to move in and his sister was going to move in next door. Chase liked Stephanie.

  Ian pulled into a huge driveway, driving up to a gigantic house. Chase felt his mouth fall open. People who lived in houses like that didn’t like kids. He hadn’t wanted to come to the dang party to begin with, and now…

  He slapped a hand over his face.

  “Who lives here?” He hated that he sounded all in awe.

  “I told you. My boss lives here.”

  “Your boss must make a lot of money.” Chase tried not to squint at the blinding light coming from the gazillion and a half Christmas lights.

  “I don’t think it’s her money funding this house, bud.”

  Whatever.

  The car stopped, the engine turned off, and seatbelts unfastened. Before Chase knew it, they stood on the doorstep. Holy crap, the door was tall. He could probably hula-hoop with the ginormous wreath.

  Ian rang the doorbell and they waited. Mom ran her hand over Sadie’s hair. Penelope, sitting on Ian’s arm, choked him with a hug. Chase rolled his eyes. Maybe he could wait in the car.

  Too late. The door swung open. Instead of a stuffy butler, which was what Chase expected, a little girl about Sadie’s age greeted them with a huge smile and a cheerful, “Welcome to our home.”

  She waved her arm, motioning them to enter. Dude, this girl and Sadie were going to get along great. Chase wondered if there were more kids at this party. He stretched up on his tiptoes and searched the crowd in the other room. Not much to see, except a bunch of really big guys.

  A blond lady, wearing a Christmas apron over her green dress, strolled in to greet them. “Ian, I’m so glad you could make it.” She hugged him and Chase wasn’t sure he liked that very much. She turned a smile on Chase and his sisters. Ah-ha, the little girl was this lady’s daughter. Had to be. Their smiles were the same. “Hi, guys. Thanks for coming to our party.”

  “Love to party.” Penelope clapped her hands.

  Ian laughed and made the introductions. Jane Pierce, as Chase was told, was Ian’s new boss.

  “Nice to meet you,” Chase said in his most grown-up voice.

  “Who’s here?” came the booming question.

  Chase looked up and felt his eyeballs pop. “Y—y—you’re…”

  “Grayson Pierce.” The man smiled, walking up to shake hands.

  Chase couldn’t have been more shocked if a lightning bolt had stuck him. He just stood and stared at the Rockets coach. And then it got worse.

  Holy crap!

  No freakin’ way!

  He blinked, rubbed at his eyes, and locked his knees to keep from fainting.

  “Enrique Santiago?” he stuttered.

  The guy just inside the doorway of the next room turned and grinned, hugging a woman into his side. “My friends call me Ricky.”

  Chase’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. Here he stood in the house of a Rockets legend, twenty feet away from his hero and all he could do was gawk. What a loser. He’d be sure to leave that part out when he told the story at school on Monday.

  If not for Ian’s hand on his shoulder, Chase might have stood in the living room all night. As a family they moved into the massive family room slash kitchen. Call him perfectly happy to sit and watch Ricky Santiago drink his beer and Grayson Pierce play host.

  “Close your mouth,” Ian whispered, “you’re drooling.”

  Chase snapped to attention, wiping at his chin. “I am not.”

  “No, but you might’ve started soon. They’re just ordinary guys.”

  “Huh-uh, there’s nothin’ ordinary about them.”

  Ian just shook his head, chuckled, mocking. Yeah, he didn’t get it. Chase wondered who his hero was and how composed he’d be if he came face to face with him. Not very, he’d bet.

  The girls had disappeared not long after they’d come through the door, but Chase hadn’t wanted to miss a single move his idols made.

  “Hi, kid, how are ya?”

  “Good.” Chase looked up
in the hazel eyes of a man.

  “You like the Rockets?” he asked through a smile.

  “Yeah.” Chase cringed when it came out all breathy.

  “Me too.”

  “Are you a fan?” Chase asked.

  “I’m Matthias Xavier.”

  Chase frowned. “Who?”

  The room erupted into laughter. Chase hadn’t meant to be funny, but kinda liked the rolling rumble in the room.

  Ricky clamped a hand on Xavier’s shoulder. “Admit it, old man, you’re washed up.”

  “I admit nothing.” Xavier laughed, sulking off to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of beer.

  A tall kid put his hand on Chase’s shoulder. “Hey. That’s my dad.”

  “Which one?” Chase asked.

  The older kid jerked his head toward the crowd. Not clarifying a bit. “I’m Matt Santiago.”

  “Ricky’s your dad?” Chase asked in awe.

  “Yep. Come on, the video games are down here.”

  Chase followed Matt down a wide hallway, glancing over his shoulder to see Ricky give them a thumbs-up. This was turning out to be the very best night of his entire life.

  “There’s something you should know,” Matt said.

  “What’s that?”

  “My dad’s a normal guy.” Chase was about to protest, when Matt added, “His farts stink just like everybody else’s.”

  Turn the page for an excerpt from:

  LUCKY 13

  (Deadlines & Diamonds, #4)

  Strike One

  Tragedy made it possible for Enrique Santiago

  to take over as Left Fielder for the Las Vegas Rockets.

  Talent keeps him there,

  giving him everything a guy could want.

  Except a woman to share it with.

  Strike Two

  A painful past with one very prominent reminder

  molded Shayne Xavier into the woman she is.

  She isn’t bitter or jaded, though. She’s a realist.

  Men can’t be depended upon and only lead to

  broken promises and shattered hearts.

  Strike Three

  Unaware of the demons of her past,

  Ricky tries to offer strength

  as Shayne’s life spins out of control.

  Sometimes Happily-Ever-After is too good to be true.

  Will Shayne and Ricky ever be able to restore

  the luck of his Lucky 13?

  1

  “Can I be your plus one?”

  “I didn’t think you’d need one.” Enrique “Ricky” Santiago glanced up into the face of one of his closest buddies and teammate, Mason James. Ricky waved a hand at the seat next to him. “Have a seat, my man. Where’s Chloe?”

  Mason chuckled, but Ricky didn’t buy the nonchalant. “She had a meeting with the accountant.”

  Ricky shook his head. “Seriously, man, either she needs to go back to high school or—”

  “Or?”

  “Or get a freakin’ calculator.” He couldn’t bear to voice his suspicions. By the sick look on Mason’s face, the guy already knew and wasn’t ready to go Sherlock Holmes on his wife’s fidelity. “You just get here?”

  “Yeah.” Mason sat and leaned back in the chair. “Why you here all by your lonesome?”

  “I don’t bring dates to these kinds of things. You know that.” Ricky took a swig of his Bud. “Chicks get the wrong idea, gettin’ all twitterpated over my celebrity friends. The next thing I know they’re readin’ Brides magazine.”

  Mason barked out a laugh. “I’ve been married so damn long I guess I’d forgotten.”

  Ricky didn’t bother saying he envied the shit out his married teammates. He let his gaze drift over the sea of dancers, searching out the happy couple. Damn, life really had a way of throwing a curve when you were expecting a fastball.

  A feather could have knocked Ricky over when he found out the great Xavier had fallen for Frankie Holden. Okay, that wasn’t exactly right. Frankie was one hell of a woman. Half the team crushed on her, but that she’d fallen in love with him and actually married the sonofabitch? Nobody saw that shit comin’.

  Hell, he’d never seen Xavier with a lovestruck, can’t-get-enough-of-her grin on his face. But as he swayed on the dance floor with Frankie in his arms, the look on his face hollered complete damned adoration.

  Who’d’ve thunk it?

  Mason knocked on the table with his knuckles. “Surprised the shit outta me, too.”

  “Huh?”

  “I never woulda thought he was capable of it either. I guess you just never know.”

  Ricky shook his head again. “No, I guess you don’t.”

  “You hear his condo’s on the market?”

  “Nah.” Ricky watched as Xavier bent down to whisper into Frankie’s ear. She tossed her head back in a laugh Ricky couldn’t hear before snuggling closer into her husband’s chest. “Makes sense, though.”

  “You should buy it.”

  “I got a place of my own.”

  Mason chuckled. “Yeah, but can you imagine the women showin’ up on that doorstep?”

  “I don’t want X’s sloppy seconds.” He had a love/hate relationship with the former left fielder. Xavier hated him and Ricky was peachy-keen-okay not sendin’ any love back.

  “At least you’d be gettin’ some.” Mason snickered when Ricky emphasized his disgust with a single finger. “I’m gonna get me a beer. You need one?”

  Ricky raised his half-full bottle. “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Mason crossed the room, giving a high-five to catcher, Dominic Kane. The guy had some girl wrapped around him so tightly it looked like he was covered in a hot pink second skin. Kane put his hands on her ass and the chippie just grinned. Ricky had to wonder whose date he’d pinched.

  He let his eyes wander, surveying his teammates socializing with people he didn’t know and that’s when he noticed her. Off to the side, standing alone, her slender body, wrapped in red fabric, held his attention better than a ticker-tape parade. Auburn hair caressed her shoulders, draping down her back. Her tiny waist accentuated curves that made Ricky’s blood heat.

  Beautiful. No, that wasn’t enough. Breathtaking.

  She crossed her arms around her middle. Her small smile seemed forced and Ricky wondered if she felt as out of place as he did. She swayed gently from side to side. What a shame she didn’t have someone to dance with.

  Ricky’s brain caught up to his body about halfway across the dance floor. As he realized what he was about to do, his steps stuttered, his mojo warring with a jolt of insecurity. Damn, he hated this part of the dating process. He watched the other guys hit on women all the time, even resorted to studying their lines, but he couldn’t flat-out lie, promise things he’d never be able to give the woman when the sun turned the western skies salmon.

  He released his breath about the time his feet came to a stop in front of her. “Hi.”

  She smiled, and his heart dropped to his toes. “Hi, I’m Shayne.”

  He stuck out his hand. “Enrique Santiago.”

  Her hand slipped into his. The softness of her palm against his did funny things to his intestines. Her chin moved up and down in a slow, barely noticeable nod. “You’re the Rockets Left Fielder?”

  “Yeah.” She’d heard of him? Sweet! “My friends call me Ricky.”

  She raised one brow and quirked the corner of her lip. “And am I to assume we’re friends?”

  “I’d like to be.”

  Danger! He had a habit of losing his heart to women he shouldn’t. Truth was, he didn’t bring women around his friends because he started hearing wedding bells when the guys offered a stamp of approval. As he stared into the liquid chocolate of Shayne’s eyes, warning bells blared, whistled, hollered, and warned him to take it slow. Danger, Enrique Santiago!

  He motioned to the open bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  She giggled, which had been his goal. “No, I’m fi—”

  “Here, Mom, I
brought you some punch.”

  Mom? The kid had brought Ricky a punch, too. A sucker-punch to the gut. He had to be about twelve or so and had an inch on his mom. Brown hair, hazel eyes, square jaw…

  Holy shit!

  A sickening sense of déjà-vu made Ricky’s stomach roll. He shot a glance over his shoulder just in time to see the happy couple turn. Man, it took a lot of balls to invite your baby-mama to your wedding reception.

  Except as Ricky looked back at the kid, he noticed something else, the almond shape of his eyes also seemed familiar. They were a more masculine form of his mom’s.

  “So, Shayne, you’re Xavier’s sister?”

  She nodded.

  The kid’s frown reeked of contempt. “And you’re the guy who stole his position.”

  “Matt!” Shayne grabbed him by the tie, bringing his nose down until it touched hers. “You apologize. That’s not the way it was and you know it.”

  Matt jerked out of her hold, muttering, “Whatever,” as he stomped off, a punch glass in each hand.

  Her cheeks darkened with a blush. “I’m sorry. Since X came back into my life, Matt’s been a little…protective of his uncle.”

  “Back into your life?”

  Shayne dropped her chin a bit, like the topic made her uncomfortable. “Long story short, we spent a lot of years apart. We’re back together now.” She held a hand out to him. “You feel like dancing?”

  Did he ever!

  He shrugged. “I gotta be honest, I’m not very good.”

  She took his hand and tugged him toward the dance floor. “That’s okay. I’m really good at it. Just follow my lead.”

  Oh, hell yeah, he’d follow her all right. The way her hips moved with each step, he’d follow her to the ends of the earth and enjoy every step of the journey.

  She abruptly stopped and turned, holding one hand at the level of his hip, the other about even with his shoulder. He stepped into her hold, seizing the chance to pull her close. She didn’t fight the subtle intimacy.