by Joanne Rock
“You can’t be serious.” He sat up, but didn’t move to help her find the underwear. Instead, he caught her in midsweep of the bed, pinning her arm to one of the pillows. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“It’s almost dawn,” she argued, certain she could see hints of the sunrise through his blinds. “And if I don’t get out of here before the sun comes up, the pictures of me doing the Walk of Shame back to my place are going to be all the more disastrous for you.”
“Why would I let you walk home?” He looked so appealing with his hair tousled from her fingers and his dark eyebrows pulled in genuine confusion.
Any other man would have seen in a heartbeat that dating her meant trouble.
“Lance, tonight was—” the most memorable night of her life “—a mistake.”
“Stop—”
“I mean it. Through no fault of your own, you’ve got a big, fat target on your chest as far as the press is concerned now that you and I have been seen together multiple times. They will make your life hell even now, but it will be even worse if we continue seeing each other.”
Freeing herself, she found her underwear and slid it on. She’d barely gotten into her bra when Lance lifted her off her feet and sat her on the bed again.
“You can’t live according to what people expect of you.”
“No. But I can make sure I don’t detract from what people expect of you.”
When he didn’t argue right away, she guessed he understood her point. She used the moment of silence to find her dress and slip it over her head.
“Jamie.”
“Don’t.” She laid a finger over his lips, quieting whatever he’d been about to say. “I messed up my life with an impulsive mistake. I won’t mess up yours with another.”
Picking up her jacket, she headed for the door before he could stop her.
“And don’t worry,” she assured him, trying hard to mold her mouth into an easy grin that didn’t feel quite right. “I’ll have the doorman call me a cab.”
With that, she stepped into the hallway and out of his life, telling herself she’d done the right thing. The best thing for Lance.
She just wished she could have found the courage to walk away from him before she’d fallen headfirst for the guy.
4
LANCE SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN surprised to wake up alone that morning. But he’d gone to sleep with Jamie’s scent on his pillow and the memory of her body imprinted on his, so that when his alarm went off, he’d still been disoriented by the empty echo of his bedroom.
As he dressed for batting practice that afternoon, he reminded himself he’d known up front that winning over Jamie would be a long shot after what she’d been through with her ex. When a woman wanted to avoid headlines, the last thing she should do was hook up with a ballplayer. Especially in New York where baseball was more than a hallowed tradition—it was a city obsession when the Scrapers were in the running to make it to the playoffs.
Still, ten hours after waking up solo, Lance didn’t want to believe she could turn her back on what they’d shared so easily. The sex hadn’t just been recreational. It had been emotional.
Transcendent.
“You look a little misty-eyed, Montero,” the first baseman shouted as he tightened the laces on his cleats a few benches away in the locker room. “You’re not still reminiscing about that little hopper you hit over the right fielder’s head last night, are you? Because if that was as much power as you’ve got in that bat this season, you’ll never beat out a good fielder. Everybody knows Jason Morenz is a game away from going back down to the minors.”
The razzing came in fast and furious then. The second basemen took up the cause by reminding Lance he was probably only a year or two away from retirement with such a weak swing and the third basemen contributed run-of-the-mill smears on Lance’s all-around shortcomings that would probably knock him out of the running for the Gold Glove this year.
Basically, it was the kind of roast that normally got him going on a slow day, the solid camaraderie that could take a locker room from a bunch of random guys to a committed group that played like a team. Too bad Lance’s focus was still on his personal life and the way Jamie had shut down their future together without even giving them a real chance. No option for a dinner date or a movie. Geez, he didn’t even have her flipping phone number. Of course, he could find that out no problem—or people he knew could. But would she have a wall of bodyguards around her to keep him away? If so, they’d done a piss-poor job of protecting her from other people out to make trouble for her.
“Maybe Montero didn’t see this,” called another teammate—a relief pitcher that normally never joined in when the guys got wound up.
Pitchers in general lived on their own planet, coached by a different staff and contributing something totally different than the rest of the players. But when a team had pitchers who would hang with the rest of the guys—that was damn cool and another sign of an organization that could do special things.
“What’s that?” Lance hollered back, recognizing the importance of making the pitcher feel like one of them. The kid was all of twenty-two, weathering a rocky rookie year.
Lance peered through his teammates’ shoulders to where DeShea Bronson sat with a Blackberry in hand, his thumbs twitching over the keypad.
“It’s the new video your girlfriend posted on YouTube. She’s, like, really hot.”
Catching the dreamy stare on the kid’s face, Lance figured he would overlook the need for team-building if junior got out of line. His jaw flexed as he snagged the handheld device.
“If anyone posted questionable footage of her, I swear I’ll find a better use for my bat than—”
The words died on his lips as he pressed the play button.
With ten other guys pushing to get a view of the screen over his shoulder, Lance watched as Jamie lit up the frame with the confident grin he knew hid a more vulnerable woman inside. A woman who had subverted her talents for too long while she weathered one media storm after another.
But she wasn’t half-dressed in some grainy video obtained by subterfuge. Thank You, God. Instead, she sat in a seat at a half-empty baseball stadium, the sun streaming down all around her as she adjusted a ridiculous pair of oversize fan sunglasses with the Scrapers logo brightly painted on every conceivable square inch.
She also wore a Scrapers baseball jacket and a team T-shirt tied in a knot just beneath her breasts. Her denim miniskirt looked to have been stuck with team pins up the side seams.
“Greetings, New York!” she trilled out between the snapping of a piece of pink bubble gum. “This is a message to all of you who were kind enough to make my presence felt at Scrapers Stadium last night.” She lifted a beer in one hand. “Thank you for cheering Lance on to a three-run homer!”
Lance frowned, confused at what the heck she was doing. She’d made her own video and posted it to support him? How did she think this would throw the media off their scent? Yesterday they’d run from the press. Why would she engage them today unless—
His gut clenched with a new fear.
What if she was going through with her idea of a pubic breakup? She wouldn’t really dump him on YouTube. Holy crap, she’d picked a hell of a time to get her confidence back about appearing in public. Apparently just in time to give him the heave-ho like she’d threatened yesterday.
In the video, a small throng of baseball fans clapped in the background, and he could see there were a handful of people seated in the stadium around her only too glad to be a part of a celebrity entourage if just for the afternoon.
“But I want all his fans to know that further imitations of me will not be necessary as I am now a season ticket holder and can be here to support Lance in person.” Whoever was working the camera zoomed in on the number of the seat where Jamie was holding court. The camera panned back again, showing the seat’s position just above the first-base line.
What was she doing? She’d be mobbed every time
she attended a game now that all of America knew where to look for her. Her tactics were a long way from the public breakup he’d been expecting.
“I’ve got to get out there.” He handed the Blackberry back to the pitcher, realizing that Jamie was no doubt sitting in her assigned seat right this very minute. With the Scrapers game not scheduled for another hour and a half, she must have come early for batting practice.
“There’s more,” the rookie called to him as he headed for the tunnel. “The video still has two minutes to go.”
Lance quickened his pace as he reached the passage from the players’ locker room to the field.
“That’s the problem with you kids today,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Too tied to your technology when you could be experiencing real life.”
He didn’t mind taking time to razz the new guy since his mood had improved ten-fold the moment Jamie said she was there to support him. Hell, she’d essentially announced to the whole world she wanted to be a part of his life. That had to count for something.
Knowing that she wanted to be there for him made his whole season in a way no three-run homer or Gold Glove nod ever could.
Levering open the door into the home team dugout, he stepped out in the sunshine to join the ground crew on the field. Fueled by eagerness to see Jamie, he climbed the rail where the players stood to watch the game and hauled himself up to the roof of the dugout. A small cry went up from a few early-bird fans scattered around the seats.
But his eye went straight to seat 65K, section 22.
Adrenaline pumped through him as his gaze scanned the stadium since he still half-expected her to have meant the video as a stepping stone to the big breakup. But any doubts he harbored fell away as he spotted the big, foam finger she waved that declared the Scrapers were number one.
Grinning ear to ear, he leapt a low concrete wall and sprinted to section 22 faster than he’d ever rounded the bases.
JAMIE HAD PLANNED A SPEECH.
She’d semirehearsed it as a follow-up to her YouTube video in case Lance was nice enough to forgive her for slinking away before dawn after they’d shared the most magical night of her life. That had been a mistake, a knee-jerk reaction to old fears of losing herself in a relationship and not being able to follow her own dreams. But when had Lance ever suggested she be anything but herself? He hadn’t seemed frustrated by her outrageousness. The fake nose hadn’t rattled him. Neither had her leopard-print umbrella.
In fact, he’d seemed fairly amused at her tactics. All of which helped her to realize she’d been a fool to run away from someone who knew all about her and liked her anyway.
But when she got an eyeful of him in his batting jersey, his number embroidered on the sleeve and the team name stitched across the shirt, all her planned words fell out of her head. The man wasn’t just a hot guy. He was a New York icon. And in the hour she’d been in the stadium, she’d been read the riot act four times by different fans who all warned her she’d better not distract “their” shortstop from his phenomenal hitting streak.
She rose from her seat, realizing they had an audience of early fans, but they seemed content to give them a little space. A few sections away, she saw some kids running toward them and guessed that wouldn’t last for long.
“So,” Lance began, apparently wise to her tongue-tied condition. “I hear you’ve become a fan of the team.”
He eyed her foam finger and she tucked it behind her.
“You saw the video?” She removed her sunglasses and drank in the sight of him without the barrier of lenses covered in trademarks.
“It’s been up for twenty minutes and my whole team has seen it. The hit count is already over one million.”
She couldn’t tell by that answer if he was charmed by her innovation or skeptical of a romantic declaration some might call tacky.
“I thought it was important to show you that I can deal with a high profile relationship.” She was grateful to see Lance’s teammates take the field for batting practice since their arrival re-routed the swarm of kids carrying balls to be autographed. “After the way I left this morning, I thought you deserved an apology that wasn’t just me spouting words—”
“What apology?” He frowned.
Fear tightened inside her. “I thought you said you saw the video?”
She’d worded it all just right in there.
“I left after the first minute or so because I wanted to see you.” He reached for her, his expression intent and somehow tender at the same time.
“You missed the apology and you still want to talk to me?” She couldn’t believe she would be so lucky to find a man who would let her make such a colossal mistake and not hold it against her.
Hope for a future together unfurled inside her.
“You apologized to me on YouTube.” He seemed to weigh the implications of that. “Were you, ah—specific about what you were sorry for?”
“That I snuck out before dawn after you were unselfish enough to give me my first multiple orgasm night?” She shook her head. “I wasn’t that explicit, but yes.”
At the chorus of gasps nearby, Jamie knew their conversation could be overheard by a smattering of folks in section 22 who possessed sharp ears. But she was past the point of worrying about a public image that had never been stellar anyhow. What mattered to her most was standing right here in front of her and she couldn’t risk losing him.
Lance shook his head while one of his teammates teed off on a practice pitch.
“Well, I missed that, but you don’t need to apologize for running out.” He looped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “You’d make me happiest if I could see you in private again, after the game.”
Her heart sped up and she felt like she’d just stepped into the sun after too many months of carrying the clouds around with her. Too many months of trying to please mysterious entertainment polls and a fickle public to get a respect that might never come. Being with Lance had helped her see she might as well simply be herself. She had more fun making her video today than she’d had—professionally speaking—in a long time. Being with Lance had opened up a creative door that had been blocked for a while.
“Um—actually, you missed more than just an apology.” She hoped he wouldn’t mind what she’d posted online. But she’d been following her heart and trying to show him she cared. “I did it out of affection for you.”
Possibly the beginnings of love. She could feel the sparkly joy of that emotion underneath all the other happiness, but she wouldn’t mind letting that grow as she got to know him. She planned to spend a lot of time in Scrapers Stadium this summer.
“You did what, precisely?” His eyes narrowed, but he still didn’t betray any hint of frustration at her quirky ways. Lance appeared curious more than anything. Amused.
“I created a montage of Lance Montero’s baseball highlights as a tribute to you, and to prove I’m serious about being a fan.” She thought it would entertain his public and show them that she had no intention of distracting their star from his game.
Besides, she was a lyricist. And the funky song had swelled up out of her with practically no effort, as though her music had been just waiting for the right moment to make a comeback.
From down on the field, a familiar tune drifted up to the seats. The voices of at least fifteen guys roused a few of the fans to join in.
“What are they singing?” Lance released her long enough to watch a woman a few seats away as she did a little spin move and hummed.
“I set the tribute to music,” she explained. “And actually, I created a dance, too. You know, lots of Super Bowl teams have had their own dances over the years.”
Lance clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned, although the sound wasn’t completely despairing.
“You know I’m not a contender for the Super Bowl as a baseball player, right?”
“Of course.” She’d been really proud of the song, her first stab at being entertaining in too many months.
“But you can take a little of the magic that makes football fun to sort of liven up your sport, can’t you?”
Down on the field, Jamie noticed two of Lance’s teammates yukking it up and slapping their thighs over a shared joke.
“You realize I’m going to get harassed all season for this?”
“I figure you’re a big boy, you can handle it.” She winked at him and then her smile faded. “But I would feel worse if you didn’t accept my apology.” She twisted one of the pewter pins bearing the Scrapers logo that she’d used to outline her skirt pocket. “I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I did work hard on the montage.”
He wrapped her in a bear hug before she finished the sentence, her final word muffled in his shirt.
“Jamie, I want you to ride home with me and never leave.” He kissed the top of her head. “Remember? I knew yesterday I was crazy about you. I was just waiting for you to realize we should be together. If your apology means you’re going to try to be with me, that makes me the happiest man you can imagine.”
She felt the smile in her heart before it reached her lips. Her whole soul seemed to smile.
“Even if your fans think my song is silly?” She hadn’t fully thought through that part. She’d just wanted to show him she could handle the public scrutiny, but maybe she’d ended up bringing unwanted attention his way.
“They can sing it all the way to the World Series, sweetheart.” He pulled away from her and withdrew her sunglasses from her shirt pocket. “Just root for the home team, and we’ll finish this discussion after the game, okay?”
His fans were starting to swarm. The kids carrying clean white baseballs for autographs had returned, and more of the seats nearby were filling up. The ushers in charge of section 22 were starting to have their hands full keeping other ticket holders out of the area.
“Will I get another chance to go back to your place?” She wanted to rewrite the night before. To show him how much a second chance meant.