Playing Hard

by Melanie Scott

  He turned his attention to Maggie. “Early? You mean you didn’t plan that?”

  Maggie shook her head. “I’m not a sadist, Ollie. I think you’re being a big fat idiot if you let that woman walk away, but I’m not a sadist.”

  “I’m not letting her walk away. She’s choosing to walk away.”

  “You’re choosing not to run after her.”

  “What’s the point if she’s leaving?”

  “Good grief, she’s not leaving forever. What the hell do you have going on right now that means you couldn’t go with her if you wanted?”

  Go with her? He blinked. Then held up his hand. “Well, there’s this.”

  “Call me crazy, but I’m guessing there are hand therapists in Hong Kong.”

  “My surgeon is here.”

  “That’s only an issue if you need more surgery. Plus, they have these things called planes. Granted it’s a long flight to Hong Kong, but you can afford to fly up at the pointy end. It’s not exactly a hardship.”

  “There’s also the small matter of her not asking me.”

  “Maybe it never crossed her mind that you would go.” Maggie said. “I don’t know Amelia all that well, but I get the feeling she’s very good at putting other people first. She was just in there trying to help Finn despite everything. So no, maybe she didn’t think about it. Or dismissed the idea for all the same stupid reasons that you just did. God. People in love are stupid sometimes.”

  She might as well have hit him in the gut. Was he doing what everyone else did to her? Expecting her to shape her life around his? Then the last part of Maggie’s sentence registered in his brain. “In love?” he said. “Who said anything about—Did Amelia say that?” He sounded appallingly eager.

  Maggie laughed. “No, you don’t care at all, obviously. So think about it, okay?”

  “Dan Ellis asked me whether I wanted to help out during the off-season. Get a feel for whether the coaching side of things is something I might want to do.”

  Maggie arched an eyebrow. “You thinking about retiring?”

  He lifted his hand. “This is still going slowly. I have to figure out what I want to do when I grow up eventually, even if my hand does come good.”

  She grinned. “Well, well, well. Oliver Shields being sensible and finally planning for his future. Tell me again how you’re not in love?”

  He scowled and she laughed. “Ollie, there will be other off-seasons. You know the Saints will help you do whatever you want to do when you retire. You’re family here. But I think you have a chance at a different kind of family. A chance you’re currently screwing up.”

  “We’ve only known each other a few weeks. It’s crazy.”

  She patted his shoulder. “That’s exactly what she said. And you know, if there’s one thing Alex has taught me it’s that sometimes, when it feels like that, you just have to let the hell go and trust the crazy. Now come on, the guys are waiting for you.”

  * * *

  He followed her down to Alex’s office, mind whirling. Go to Hong Kong with Amelia. It did sound crazy. His life had been the Saints and Staten Island forever. The thought of leaving was hard to grasp. Even if he would be coming back.

  “Oliver,” Lucas said as they came into the room. “How’s the hand?”

  “Given I’m sure George is sending you copies of all my reports, I’m sure you know the answer to that,” Oliver said. He said hello to Alex and Mal and Dan. Truth was, as he’d said to Maggie, regaining his hand function was painfully slow. Every freaking fraction of an inch of movement was hard-won. “But you didn’t ask me here to talk about my hand. So let’s talk about Finn instead.”

  “Okay,” Alex said. “What do you think of Castro?”

  “I think he’s a cocky little prick who’s currently got his head up his ass,” Oliver said. Then he held up his hand before they could start arguing with him. Amelia cared about Finn. So he would be honest. For her. “But I also think that if he can get his head out of his ass, then he’s got a chance to be a pretty damned good first base man. He played brilliantly in a couple of those games. Reminded me of me when I was younger.”

  “Yes, he did,” Dan agreed.

  “Doesn’t change the fact Ollie’s right,” Mal said. “The kid hasn’t got his head on straight right now.”

  “Well, he’s out of the hospital,” Lucas said. “And his last checkup cleared him for light activity. The doctor said nothing strenuous for a few more weeks. So if we wanted to try and stick him in rehab or some sort of counseling place for a few weeks, this might be a good time.”

  “You think he needs rehab?” Alex asked Lucas.

  Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s nothing in his blood work that suggests really heavy drinking. But I can’t help thinking some time out might help him. If he wants to be helped.”

  “That’s what it boils down to, isn’t it?” Mal said. “The only one who can help him is him in the end.”

  “Yes, but we can support him. Regardless of whether we keep him or not,” Maggie said. “We can still help. Amelia says he’s a good guy.”

  “Even good guys can fuck things up,” Lucas said, eyes fixed on Oliver.

  “We’re talking about Finn,” Oliver growled. Fuck. Were they all going to read him the riot act about Amelia? And if all of them thought that way, did that mean he really was fucking up royally if he let her go?

  “Who says I wasn’t?” Lucas said with a grin.

  “For me, I think some sort of rehab or counseling program is a given,” Alex said. “If he won’t do that, then I’m done with him. He’s just going to keep fucking up. He’s already put himself in the hospital, and Oliver. Not to mention Paul’s hand and Sam’s ribs. He’s lucky those Yankees fans didn’t press charges and land him in a lot worse trouble.”

  “Agreed,” Mal said. “But if he agrees, then what do we do when he’s out?”

  “Send him to the Preachers,” Oliver said. “Less pressure in AAA. Give him a chance to figure out if he really wants this enough to win his way back to the Saints. See how he does. You can always bring him back partway through the season if he turns things around and gets his act together. Some breathing room and a change of scenery might just be what the doctor ordered.” Suddenly he didn’t think he was just talking about Finn anymore. But before he could figure out his own life, if he was going to go after Amelia, he needed to make sure Finn understood a few things. Which meant he needed to get out of here.

  “The Preachers? You think that’s a good idea?” Dan said.

  Oliver shrugged. “That’s for all of you to decide. So I’m just going to leave you to it.”

  * * *

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Finn said gruffly.

  Oliver smiled a smile that felt more like baring his teeth at the guy. “Castro. Good to see you, too. Let me in.” He put his hand on the door and, to his surprise, Finn fell back. Maybe the guy was still feeling like crap. Whatever. He walked into the apartment, shut the door behind him.

  Finn stood in the small entry hall, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, scowling. Which made the pink scar that sliced across his forehead on an angle that just cut the tip of his right eyebrow wrinkle. “Okay. You’re in. What do you want? If Dan Ellis sent you to give me another little pep talk, I’m not interested.”

  Oliver shook his head. “Kid, I’m not interested in saving your career. You’ve dug your own hole and you’re going to have to pull yourself out of it. But you and I are going to have a little chat.”

  “About what?”

  “About Amelia. And the way you’re going to behave around her in the future.”

  Finn’s scowl vanished, morphing for an instant into something Oliver would have called guilt on another guy’s face, before the expression turned unreadable. “What do you care about Amelia? Em said you broke up.”

  Oliver just shrugged. “Whether I am or am not involved with Amelia isn’t your problem. The fact that I’ll take it badly if you ever
talk to her again like you did at the party is.”

  Finn looked down at his shoes. “I’m going to apologize.”

  “You should have already apologized,” Oliver said. “You should have groveled. You made her feel like crap. She’s spent her whole life trying to please people and I’m guessing she’s done nothing but support you over the years, even when you no doubt deserved a kick up the ass. And you tell her she’s not part of your family because you’re having a crappy week. Low blow. Don’t you know how she feels about you all?”

  Finn’s head shot up, scowl firmly in place again. “I don’t need you telling me I screwed up.”

  “Don’t you? Because screwed up is hardly what I’d call it. More like comprehensively fucked things up. You do get that, right?”

  “Yes,” Finn gritted out.

  “Good. Maybe there’s hope for you yet,” Oliver said. If the kid could accept that he’d been a dick and wanted to try a different approach, then maybe there was a chance he could make things right. “But regardless, you will treat Amelia the way she deserves to be treated or I will make you sorry. Understand me?”

  Finn nodded. “Understood. Is that all you came to say?”

  Oliver shrugged. “Yes.” He turned, reached for the door. Then had a sudden image of Amelia frowning at him. If he was going to stay in her life that meant he had to be able to get along with Finn. “Look, Castro, I know you don’t like me. I know you want my job. Fine. I’m not joining your fan club, either. Frankly, I’m not sure what Amelia sees in you. But she told me what you did for her mom and that tells me that once upon a time you were a good guy. A guy who thought saving a life was more important than anything else. Who put love for a girl who was part of his family over everything else. Maybe you’ve buried that guy under whatever mountain of bullshit it is that’s fueling that chip on your shoulder. Maybe you’ve lost him for good. But if I were you, and I wanted to get my life back on track and save my career and my relationship with my sister, then I would try to find that guy again. That guy sounds like someone I could be friends with.”

  * * *

  Amelia handed her passport and ticket over to the woman behind the airline checkout and tried to remember to breathe. She was leaving. Today. Going to Hong Kong. Leaving New York. Along with everything in it. She’d spent half an hour on the phone with Em earlier and somehow that had made the fact that she was leaving the country seem real for the first time. Em had managed not to cry, though she’d sounded weird. Amelia had also managed not to cry until she’d had a call from Finn. It had been short and awkward but he had at least apologized. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet. Something to worry about once she was in Hong Kong. But the call had somehow made leaving feel overwhelming and she’d found herself in tears before the driver of the car she’d booked called up and she’d had to pull herself together.

  “Ms. Graham, I have you as an upgrade,” the woman said, with a flash of very white teeth.

  “Um, I’m already in business class,” Amelia said. She’d been surprised when she’d gotten her ticket. But apparently Pullman wanted her ready to work on the other end of her flight.

  “Yes, but I have you in first.” Brightly painted fingernails sped over the keyboard. She pressed a button and the computer spat out a boarding pass. “Once you get through customs, there’s an elevator up to the first-class lounge. Just show your boarding pass and they’ll take care of you from there.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Amelia took the boarding pass, still confused. Maybe she had just lucked out. Airlines upgraded people sometimes, didn’t they? She’d only ever flown coach, so she didn’t really know how this all worked. But hell, first class sounded damned good to her, so she wasn’t going to argue. She headed to security and made it through customs without too much hassle. Then she followed the instructions and went up to the first-class lounge, half expecting to be told it was some horrible mistake when she got there. But the man at the reception desk welcomed her with a smile. So she was none the wiser about why she’d gotten lucky until she walked through to the lounge itself and saw Oliver sitting in a low chair near the entry.

  She stopped dead, which almost made the man walking behind her run into her. He stepped around her with a muttered, “Watch where you’re going.” She barely noticed. Because Oliver was there.

  Oliver stood. Headed in her direction.

  Her head was spinning. What was he doing here? She tried not to give into the frantic happiness spilling through her.

  “You’re blocking the path,” he said when he reached her.

  “You’re here,” she said. Brilliant reply. Not Why are you here?

  He gestured back to where he’d been sitting. “Come and talk to me.”

  Talk about an invitation she couldn’t refuse. She followed him to the chairs. Put her purse down and tucked her carry-on against the table. But she didn’t sit. Neither did Oliver.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “I had a thought,” Oliver said.

  “A thought?”

  “About long distance,” he said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “I see,” she said, not seeing at all.

  “But then I had another thought,” he said. “Which was that we don’t have to do long distance. Because I don’t actually have anything to do for the next few months, and the thought of sitting in New York doing nothing without you was making me crazy. So I bought a ticket to Hong Kong.”

  He reached into the pocket of his jacket. Pulled out a boarding pass. Which was for the seat next to hers in first class. Mystery solved. “Question is, do you want me to use it?”

  “Yes,” she said fiercely. “You idiot. Yes.” Then she stood on tiptoe and pulled his head down to hers. Kissed him. Kissed him the way she’d been wanting to for two weeks. Only stopped when she realized there was a smattering of applause echoing around the beautifully styled sleek space of the lounge. Then she pulled back. Tried to catch her breath. Watched him trying to catch his. “But what about your hand? The Saints?”

  “My doctors have hooked me up with a therapist and a surgeon to check on things over there. I might have to fly back here if the New York guys get concerned by what they hear from the Hong Kong docs or want to see me in person but hey, what’s a plane flight or two? If I’m eased into spring training, I won’t need to be in Florida until the end of February. Maybe even March. We’ll figure that part out when we get there. If my hand is ready. It won’t be for so long then if I have to come back. This is just for six months, right?”

  She nodded, grinning. “Yes. Though I still want to travel.”

  “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I promise. If I can still play, then you give me the seasons and I’ll do whatever the hell you want or need the rest of the year. And if I can’t play—well, heck, maybe I’ll just follow my globe-trotting executive gal around the world for a few years till we decide we’re ready to settle down somewhere.”

  “Settle down?” she said faintly.

  “Someday,” he said. “When we get there. For now, I just want to be crazy with you, Amelia Graham. What do you say?”

  “I say, I’d love to be crazy with you, Oliver Shields,” she said. “So kiss me.”

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to Eileen Rothschild for editing superpowers and all the team at St. Martin’s Press. Thank you also to Miriam Kriss who continues to be a great agent to have on my side. For all my fabulous writer gal pals who are always there during the good bits and the bad bits with wise words and good booze and my friends and family who embrace the writer weirdness. And last, but certainly never least, to all the fabulous readers, reviewers, and bloggers out there who let me know you love my books and share the joy of all the good stories with the world, you’re the best.

  Read on for an excerpt from the next novel by Melanie Scott

  Playing Fast

  Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks!

  Chapter One

  Eva Harlo
we had been many things at work. Happy, bored, sad, stressed, excited. Occasionally pissed off. She’d never before been one-hundred-percent mortified.

  She looked down at the security pass she’d just run through the laminator and resisted the urge to flee the building.

  Finn Castro.

  That was whose face stared back at her from the otherwise innocent piece of plastic.

  Finn Castro. Baseball player. Tall, dark, and trouble. Not to mention six years younger than her. On whom Eva had had an unreasonable, melting-underwear-level, unrelenting crush for, oh, at least a year.

  There was nothing wrong with having a crush. Countless women swooned over actors and singers and, yes, athletes every day. Having a crush was harmless. Particularly a celebrity crush. Perfectly safe. Never going to be able to do anything about it except maybe one day pose for an awkward photograph if you ever ran across the person in real life and could summon the courage to ask. They could live in your head and cheer up your day and maybe, occasionally, when you were having one of those days, cheer up your nighttime fantasies, too.

  One hundred percent A-OK.

  Until of course, you found out that the object of your crush was coming to work where you worked.

  Then it was mortifying. Totally, excruciatingly, horrifyingly, mortifying.

  So mortified she was because, exactly six weeks ago, just after New Year’s Day, the New York Saints had announced that they were sending Finn Castro to play a season at their AAA team, the Preachers.

  Where Eva was the administration manager. Which was a glorified title for “does anything that really needs to be done and keeps things from falling apart at an inconvenient moment.” Including getting new players set up with all the administrative things they needed to be set up with and, usually, giving them a quick tour of the place before they were handed over to the coaching team.