Success! He took a step backward, letting out an “oof” as a shelf met his back. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, ‘Not exactly’?”
Matt reached out to lay a hand on her arm, but she swatted him away. He sighed and sank against the shelf again. But he didn’t need physical contact to pin her to the spot. His intense golden-brown gaze held her fast. “Think back to the night we met. I never said anything about what I did for a living. And if you’ll recall, last night it was Greg who introduced himself as an engineer. Not me.”
Meg looked away, seeking escape. Not yet ready to acknowledge that truth, she dismissed it with an impatient wave. “So you lied by omission. That’s still dishonesty at its finest, Mr. Big Shot Ballplayer.”
“I never said I was an engineer.” He aimed a finger at her. “You’re just upset because you leapt to the wrong conclusion.”
“If it quacks like a duck—”
His face contorted. “I didn’t quack!”
“Yeah, you did. Maybe not out loud, but by letting your friends say they were engineers, you knew I’d assume you were, too.”
“You know what happens when you assume.”
The comment—one of her father’s favorite sayings—hit Meg like a punch in the gut. The temperature plummeted in the until-now charged closet and she hugged herself, seeking warmth. “I sure as hell shouldn’t have assumed you’re a nice guy.”
“I—”
She didn’t let Matt interrupt. Although she’d never have dared talk back to her father, she felt on more equal footing with this clown. She let her inner rebel loose. “You probably had an ulterior motive for introducing me to your brother. I bet you thought I’d be grateful enough to sleep with you. How disappointed you had to be when all we did was kiss.”
With that, she stormed out of the closet and slammed the door. She considered locking Matt in to give him time to think about what he’d done, but decided against it. Judging by the stunned look on his face, he’d stay put for a while without her help.
Meg ignored her coworkers’ curious stares. She paused outside the conference room door to take a couple of deep, calming breaths. Then she pushed open the door and made a beeline for the donuts. Too bad if the baby didn’t want one. Standing up for herself made her ravenous, and she damn well planned to indulge.
She plucked a chocolate cake donut with chocolate icing off the tray and took a big bite, daring her stomach to revolt. Thank God it didn’t.
Chapter Five
“Glad you could make it, Meg,” one of her bosses said as she took the seat Stephanie had saved for her.
“Sorry I’m late,” she replied, careful to sound appropriately contrite. She couldn’t afford to alienate her favorite boss. Mr. Hamilton had championed her hiring, and he’d be the one she talked to about her maternity leave. “I haven’t been feeling all that great.”
“I’ve noticed,” Mr. Hamilton said, not unkindly. He did, however, look askance at the donut she was shoving in her mouth. “You should see a doctor if you can’t shake your illness soon.”
Meg swallowed. When the pastry dropped into her stomach like a rock, she willed it to stay put. “I will.”
“Good.” Gesturing to Matt’s still-empty chair, he smiled. “But since you’re not the last one to the table, there’s no real harm done.”
Meg’s cheeks burned. If Mr. Hamilton only knew the real reason for their absence, he wouldn’t be nearly so understanding.
Just then, the door opened and Matt came in. When he flashed his charming smile around the room, not even Mr. Hamilton could object. “Sorry about that. Nature called.”
“Now that everyone’s present, let’s get started,” her boss began. “Our firm has been tasked with creating a new ad campaign for the Condors. These three will star in it.”
Mr. Hamilton didn’t miss the glare Stephanie aimed at the three men in question. “Ms. Turner, have the gentlemen offended you somehow?”
Meg held her breath, waiting for Steph to respond. She hoped her friend wouldn’t cause a scene. If everyone heard Meg had been duped—again—they’d start to think she was too stupid to live.
Maybe you are.
As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t quite dismiss the thought. Her father certainly didn’t believe her judgment was sound—and evidence pointed to poor decision-making skills on her part. Her boyfriend ran off to be a poker star, leaving her even before she figured out he’d knocked her up. And now she found herself attracted to another charming liar.
Hmm. Maybe her dad was right to have kept her on such a short leash. She sure had a talent for making a mess of things on her own.
Steph’s denial broke into her thoughts. “Sorry. It’s just that their team colors offend my artistic sensibilities.”
Meg swallowed a snort of laughter. Steph, a sales rep, was about as artistic as the guy who painted “Dogs Playing Poker.”
But her boss seemed to buy the excuse. Mr. Hamilton nodded. “This preliminary meeting is just for introduction’s sake. They’ll be back tomorrow to help us brainstorm ideas.”
“You think it’s wise to let the talent create?” Meg heard the edge to her tone and wished she could take it back. With a baby on the way, she needed this job now more than ever. Smartass comments weren’t the best way to stay under the radar when the next wave of layoffs rolled around. She tried to backpedal. “I mean, don’t they have to practice or something?”
Her boss’ lips pursed in disapproval, but Matt dispelled the tension with another of his heart-winning grins. “Believe it or not, miss, we’re free to walk out of the batting cage and back into real life from time to time.”
Heat crept into her cheeks and she ducked her head. Why was he being so nice to her after what she’d said in the closet? She didn’t deserve his kindness—nor was she ready to repay it with kindness of her own. Matt Thatcher was a liar…the kind of smooth operator she and the baby needed no part of. His attempt to charm the whole room proved that.
She pressed her hand to her stomach, making a silent vow to protect them both. A guy like that would only lead to more heartache.
That presumes he’s even interested. Cocky much?
The meeting was mercifully short, and Meg was glad. When it was finished, Steph trailed her out of the conference room to their cubicles. She perched on the edge of Meg’s desk. “Are you as ticked at them as I am?”
Meg nodded.
“So what was his excuse?”
“He pointed out—correctly, I must admit—that he never said he was an engineer.”
Stephanie frowned. “He didn’t?”
“Nope. His buddies did.”
Steph rolled her eyes. “He’s no less wrong because he didn’t say it. He didn’t correct them, either.” She tapped her finger against her jaw. “Did he say why he lied in the first place?”
“He says it’s because women throw themselves at him when they find out what he really does for a living.”
This time, Steph snorted. “I’ll bet.”
Her friend’s reaction, so like her own when she’d first heard the excuse, triggered a different response this time around. “He might have a point.”
Stephanie bolted off Meg’s desk, looking at her as if she’d just declared her undying love for comic sans, every graphic designer’s nightmare font. “You’re kidding, right?”
She shook her head. As upset as she’d been earlier, time in the meeting—or maybe the sugar rush coursing through her veins—had given her a chance to think. And she was beginning to think she’d been too hasty with her condemnation.
“Think about it, Steph: It’s no different from a movie star trying to go incognito to avoid hordes of screaming fans.”
Stephanie’s nose wrinkled. “You think the Condors have hordes of screaming fans?”
She didn’t blame her friend for her skepticism. She was still getting used to the idea, too. But, strangely enough, she could see Matt’s point. It had to be stressful to never know w
hether someone liked you or your bank account.
Thankfully, she’d never have that problem on her graphic designer’s salary. Maybe once she became a world-famous baker, like Mrs. Fields or Famous Amos— She stopped herself before that ridiculous notion could take root. No way could she quit her mostly stable job to open a bakery anytime soon. She’d have to keep a tighter rein on her spontaneous, impulsive side. The spontaneity that made her a good baker—adding a pinch of this and a dash of that to make a so-so recipe sing—would never put her in the running for mother of the year.
Meg turned her attention back to Steph, who was still scowling. “I think we both might be underestimating the Condors’ popularity.”
Her lip curled into a sneer. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“They’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe we’ll get that chance.” Meg ignored the unexpected jealousy that stabbed at her when she thought of Matt being mobbed by a horde of female fans.
****
Monday’s meeting might have been mercifully short, but the same thing couldn’t be said for Tuesday’s, which dragged out into a rather unproductive two-and-a-half-hour brainstorming session. The best potential slogan was “Catch Condors fever”—an idea from Dex-Greg—so they still had a ton of work to do.
Meg walked around the conference table to where Matt, Dave and Greg now stood. Thank goodness the work didn’t have to be done right away.
All three of the men had leapt up from the table the minute the meeting broke. No wonder. As much as she hated sitting through a lengthy meeting, guys who made a living being physically active had to find the forced inactivity ten times more annoying.
A lunch break was in order before she did any more brainstorming on the campaign—and now that her anger at Matt had dissipated, she was willing to explore his excuse. “Want to grab some lunch?”
Intent on continuing the conversation they’d started during yesterday’s closet confessional, she’d aimed the question at Matt. But Greg was the one who replied.
“Sure…as long as Steph can come, too.”
She looked at Matt, who shrugged. “Let me go ask her.”
Trying her damnedest to ignore the part of her that was relieved by Greg’s intrusion, she headed for Stephanie’s desk. The cowardly, childish part of her that wanted to walk away from Matt without giving him a chance to explain didn’t deserve validation.
Steph’s desk was empty, but Meg found her by the drinking fountain. As she approached, her friend raised her eyebrows. “Feeling okay today?”
“Fine.” It was no lie. After a breakfast of just three saltines, her stomach was settled for the first time in forever. She hoped the trend would continue. “Greg wants you to join us for lunch.”
Stephanie looked confused. “Greg?”
“You know…Dex, your engineer friend.”
“Oh. Him.” Stephanie’s nose wrinkled. “Do we want to have lunch with him?”
Meg rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to have lunch with Greg, but he invited himself and you along when I asked Matt if he wanted to do lunch.”
Steph waggled her eyebrows. “Matt wants to do something with you, all right—but it’s not lunch.”
Meg’s cheeks heated. She looked around the area to see who might have overheard the raunchy comment. The office was almost deserted this close to lunchtime. Even, so she admonished Stephanie to hush.
“Look, Steph, I’m starved, so let’s go get some lunch with the guys. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll get to brainstorm better ideas for the campaign. If not, look at the bright side: It’s not every day we have lunch with eye candy for dessert.”
Stephanie’s brow furrowed. “That eye candy has a sour aftertaste. Are you forgetting they lied?”
“I told you Matt had a good reason for that.”
“That’s what you said. I, however, remain unconvinced.”
She was tired of the conversation, which only reminded her of the talk she should be continuing with Matt. Besides, the lack of food was making her cranky. “Let’s go.”
“Okay, okay,” Stephanie grumbled. “Just let me get my purse.”
****
Matt turned away to hide his scowl when Meg returned to the conference room with Stephanie in tow. Had she not been able to find her friend, he would have had an excuse to disinvite Greg to lunch. It wasn’t that he disliked the kid. Greg was an adequate friend during the season and a helluva first baseman.
He just wasn’t Matt’s first choice for a lunch companion. He had no desire to sit across from Greg, watching his ugly mug, when he could contemplate Meg’s ample charms.
Matt paid more attention to Meg’s lips than the rundown she gave of their choices. Greg, not distracted by such things, decided on pizza, so they set off on foot for a pizzeria a few blocks from the agency.
He set a slower pace than the others, letting Dave, Greg and Stephanie get ahead. It was as close to alone as he’d get Meg in the near future, so he planned to enjoy the walk.
“I’m sorry Greg invited himself along,” he said for the fourth time.
Meg shrugged. “Stop apologizing. It’s not your fault.”
“Well, I am the one with the pushy friend.” This time, Meg giggled, and the sound made Matt smile.
“Excuse me, but have you met Stephanie? She could give Greg a few lessons in that department.”
“You might be right,” Matt agreed, remembering how she’d invited herself to share their pool table the other night.
Lunch went as well as could be expected with Greg angling to get closer to Stephanie and Steph scowling at Greg every time he made a suggestion. When Stephanie finally agreed to go out with them after work, Matt was glad for his buddy’s perseverance. It meant he’d get more one-on-one time with Meg, who seemed to have thawed some toward him since storming out of the closet yesterday. He needed time to explore the change.
Greg grinned, triumphant. “It’s settled. You guys will find a date for ol’ Dave so we can all go out tonight.”
“Leave me out of it. I doubt Mel would approve of my going on a date,” Dave drawled, referring to his fiancée. “Besides, after what Coach has planned for this afternoon’s practice, I’m sure I’ll be able to use a night in.”
“It won’t be so bad, man,” Greg protested. “It’s only an inter-squad scrimmage.”
Dave smiled. “Nope. I’m hitting the sack early. But you four go out and have fun. You can tell me about it over breakfast.”
Matt glanced at Meg, whose attention was centered on him. If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes held a mixture of hunger and fear. He cursed himself for putting that fear in her eyes. Why did relationships always have to be so complicated?
He lifted his eyebrows. “If you don’t want to go out tonight, just say so.”
She shrugged as she fixed her eyes to the red-and-white checked tabletop. “I don’t have any plans that can’t be changed.” When she met his gaze again, mischief glinted in her eyes. “Just let’s do something that doesn’t involve the Crazy Irishman. I’ve been there too often this week.”
Greg grumbled. “What else is there to do in this town?”
****
What else, indeed? Matt wondered as he stood near home plate, waiting for the afternoon’s practice to begin. Dinner and a movie? Everyone did that. A walk in the park? Although he’d be more than content with that, Greg would never go for something so tame. If Greg were planning the outing, they’d end up dancing and drinking at some nightclub.
But Meg didn’t like to drink. He vowed to come up with a more appealing alternative.
Now that his secret was out, he could always invite Meg to a game. Too bad the season didn’t start until next month.
At the coach’s signal, Matt took his position and waited for the pitcher’s first throw. An hour and a half later, Jim walked up.
“Coach wants you to sub out,” the rookie told him.
Matt glanced over at Jerry, who nodded. He ceded home plate to the rookie, as much as he hated
to do it. He wanted to protest that he wasn’t tired and could play for another ninety minutes. But he couldn’t. Truth told, he was getting a little stiff.
“The mind’s willing, but the body’s saying ‘slow down,’” he muttered under his breath as he headed for the locker room. “Getting old sucks.”
Worse, Jerry had to realize Matt wasn’t as young as he used to be. Otherwise, why would he sub the rookie in so soon? In years past, he’d kept Matt on home plate all afternoon.
“I refuse to be washed up at twenty-eight.”
At his age, this was pretty much his last season to get called up to the majors. If it didn’t happen for him this year, he was going to have to think about Plan B.
Matt groaned. He didn’t look forward to a future without baseball. Of course, that didn’t mean he had no Plan B. Any sane person would. However, he’d been so sure of his Major League career he never took running a restaurant all that seriously. It was his “just in case,” a choice to fall back on in the unlikely event he didn’t succeed.
He hoped to hell it wouldn’t come to that.
****
Meg shut down her computer for the afternoon and then glanced at her watch. It was a little before five—time for her and Steph to meet Matt and Greg in front of the Crazy-I.
She stopped by Stephanie’s desk. “Ready?”
Stephanie frowned as she stood and slung her purse over her shoulder. “I still don’t know why we’re hanging with guys who lied to us about what they do for a living.”
Meg squeezed her friend’s hand. “Steph, I need you to be my wing man.”
“Wing man?”
Why did Steph have such trouble with the concept? After all, she’d claimed “Top Gun” was one of her favorite movies. Meg nodded. “You drag me back down to earth when my hormones start going wonky.”
“You mean you still like the guy?”
God help her, she did. Against all better judgment, she wanted Matt as much as he seemed to want her.
After answering Stephanie with a curt nod, Meg made her way to the Bug, conscious of Steph trailing behind. Her sensible side celebrated their decision to carpool to the Crazy-I. Having to bring Stephanie back to her car would give her an excuse not to leave with Matt later, if—when—he asked.
Beauty and the Ballplayer Page 5