by Jamie Wesley
Although she should’ve looked out of place amid all the sports jerseys, pendants, photos, and plentiful TVs turned to sports networks adorning the walls, she didn’t. Nor did she seem to care. He was used to hearing her on the radio, but this situation was different. In the studio, he had to concentrate on her words, or she’d run roughshod over him. But here, he could concentrate on her. She talked with her hands. Her passion for her subject matter rang clear throughout the restaurant, along with her humor. She joked and offered advice to her callers, then signed autographs and took photos with fans during the commercial breaks.
Even crazier, he didn’t disagree with everything she said. She actually made a few valid points, telling one caller that his wife had a right to be unhappy. Although shiny, expensive toys made him happy, that didn’t mean he should disregard the fact that his spendthrift ways were crippling his family’s finances.
“Obviously, buying all that stuff hasn’t made you happy because you keep buying more and more,” she said. “You need to find the root cause of your unhappiness and deal with that first. Then, and only then, will you be in a position to make decisions about your fifteen-year marriage. If you’ve been married that long, something is keeping you there, probably something positive.”
What must it be like to have such conviction and belief in love? What would Noelle say if he told her he’d had breakfast with his giddy parents, who’d asked him to give his mother away and act as his father’s best man at their wedding? Would she be disappointed that he’d been noncommittal, unable to pretend he believed they really meant it when they said their love would last forever this time? Would she tell him to support his parents, that love conquered all? Probably yes on all counts.
What had happened in her life for her to have the unwavering belief in love? What would his life be like if he embraced that way of thinking? Would he be happier? Maybe. A chill swept down his spine at that wayward thought. What the hell? Tate sucked in a lungful of air and forcefully corralled his thoughts. Why was he wasting his time with the self-pity? He liked his life the way it was. For the most part.
Damn it.
Thankfully, the waitress chose that moment to deliver his lunch. He pushed the maudlin thoughts out of his head and concentrated on his plate of hot wings.
“Are you Tate Grayson?” a woman with a breathy voice asked several minutes later.
He glanced up, only to get an eyeful of cleavage spilling out of a low-cut T-shirt. He raised his eyes higher. Pouty lips curved in a come-hither smile. Long, dark brown hair cascaded down her back. A little too much makeup, but an impressive package, overall.
“I am,” he answered with a flirtatious smile of his own.
“I’m Tammy. My friend Alicia and I love your show,” she cooed. She gestured toward another woman hovering at the bar. Alicia, he presumed. Alicia, who matched Tammy in looks and attire, wiggled her fingers at him and strolled over.
“Hello, ladies,” he said. “It’s always nice to meet fans.”
“We listen every day.” Tammy inched closer. “We feel like we know you. We’d love to get to know you better.” She leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Together.”
The proposition should have aroused his interest. But it didn’t. There was nothing unique about the request. Nothing unique about them. Nothing challenging. His gaze strayed to the stage, where the doctor held court.
As though feeling his eyes on her, Noelle looked his way. Her eyes shifted to his companions, then back to him. He winked. She rolled her eyes and turned away. Stifling a laugh, he swung his gaze back to the much more accommodating women at his table.
“So what do you say?” Tammy trailed fingers topped with blood red nails across his left shoulder.
What was his problem? So what if they were like all the women he’d dated before? All the women he’d inevitably gotten bored with. He wasn’t looking for unique. He was looking for a good time. He opened his mouth to accept their offer. “Ladies, as much as I’d love to, I can’t.”
Tate froze. What the hell?
“Aww.” Alicia’s pouty lips pouted even more. “Are you sure we can’t change your mind? We promise we’ll make it worth your while.”
He released a brief sigh of relief. Good. They were giving him another chance to correct his egregious error. “I’m sure you would, but I can’t.”
What in the living hell was wrong with him?
“That’s too bad.” Tammy reached into her purse and pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. She leaned over the table, giving him another unobstructed view of her remarkable cleavage, and scribbled on the paper. “If you change your mind, here’s my number.” She grabbed his hand and curled his fingers around the paper. “We’ll be expecting your call.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, forcing a smile.
“You do that.” With a waggle of her fingers, she and Alicia tottered off, Alicia stopping once to blow a kiss over her shoulder.
Tate returned to his lunch, replaying the last few crazy minutes in his head. What was wrong with him? How could he be so dumb, so uninterested in an easy conquest?
A few more listeners stopped by, offering a welcome distraction. He engaged in a few light debates about the Rangers’ chances to make the World Series, something he was always happy to do.
Still, he found his attention continually drifting back to the stage and Noelle. At the end of her last segment, he sauntered to the stage. He nodded at Caitlin and Bobby, who were deep in discussion, and sat in the folding chair next to Noelle. He waited while she took off her headset. “Interesting show.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Do I want to know what that means?”
“Nothing bad.” He grinned. “This time anyway. I’ve never heard you give tough love to your listeners, telling them that they need to shape up if they expect their relationships to survive.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not always sunshine and daffodils like you believe.”
“Oh, I know. Every time you give me a disapproving frown, I know. Kind of like you’re doing right now.”
A pained smile instantly replaced the frown.
Tate held back a laugh. She wouldn’t be winning an Oscar any time soon. “You need to learn how to relax.”
The frown reappeared. “And you’re the one to teach me how, I take it.”
He leaned closer to her, catching a hint of the light, but alluring lavender fragrance she preferred. A preference he was beginning to share. “Oh, darlin’, you have no idea,” he drawled.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away. Good. He liked a woman who held her ground.
“Don’t I?” The words were brassy, but the way she cleared her throat let him know she felt the heat, as unexpected as it was, throbbing between them.
“Imagine the best scenario you possibly can, and I guarantee I can make it ten times better.” The words spilled out without a thought. Yes, he liked to flirt, but what the hell was he doing flirting with Noelle, especially when he’d turned down Tammy and Alicia, women who were actually interested in him? Hadn’t he and Noelle tacitly agreed to never go there again after yesterday?
Her gaze slowly skimmed his body from head to toe, making him wish it was her pretty mouth making the tour with no clothes between her lips and his skin. “You sound awfully confident.”
“I never say anything I don’t mean.” Damn it. More unlicensed flirting.
“I’ll have to remember that. Now, let’s get to work.” She put on her headphones. “Hello, everyone. Welcome to the Tate and Noelle Show, better known as the TAN Show.”
Wait a second. Had he been dismissed? His body, which had hardened at her perusal, and was still clamoring for relief, refused to believe it. But it was true. She went straight into the show like she hadn’t felt the sparks flying between them. Sparks that threatened to burn the sports bar down. How could she ignore them? And why was he upset? He should be happy she wasn’t interested. No, forget should. He was happy. Because he definitely wasn’t
interested in Noelle.
Yeah. That was it.
Chapter Five
“Thank you for joining us on our second day together.” While Noelle spoke calmly, her brain worked feverishly to figure out what had just happened.
Yesterday, after their meeting with Deb, they’d held a brief prep session. By brief, she meant they’d talked for maybe two minutes. They’d agreed to talk about sports during today’s show. He’d come up with the topic. The end.
There’d been no mention of the incident.
No need. Nothing had happened. Nothing would happen. They’d lost their heads for a second, that’s all. She’d thought it best to move on and forget about it. But she was finding it impossible to ignore their latest exchange. She felt the heat simmering between them. Unwise heat. Unwelcome heat.
Focus, Noelle.
“Since we spent much of yesterday’s show talking about relationships and we’re at Win or Go Home today, we thought we’d stick to sports today,” she said.
It was one thing to admit to herself that she found him attractive. It was quite another to entertain the notion that he shared the attraction. She wiggled her shoulders. Whatever. She shouldn’t stress about it. Odds were good it meant nothing to him. He flirted with every woman who crossed his path. She’d witnessed it firsthand. That day, as a matter of fact. She couldn’t hear what was said, but there was nothing wrong with her eyes. Women leaning in close, Tate offering up his magnetic smile as he stared into their eyes and chatted.
But he’d never flirted with me before. Still. Best to forget the whole situation.
But she didn’t doubt for a second that he could and did back his words up with action. Imagine the best scenario you possibly can, and I guarantee I can make it ten times better.
She shifted in the chair as an arrow of heat landed between her legs.
No, no, no.
She adjusted her headset. “Since sports are your area of expertise, what do you have for us today, Tate?”
“Lucky for us, there’s a storm brewing in the Rangers’ clubhouse.” Cool and confident, like the last few minutes hadn’t happened. “In case you haven’t heard, the Rangers have demoted their promising third baseman, Rich Ramirez, to Triple-A because he’s developed a case of the yips.”
“What are the yips?” she asked, totally confused.
“Sometimes when a player loses confidence in his throw, he develops a hitch in it, so when he throws from third base to first, he can’t make a straight throw even during routine plays.”
“Hmm, okay. How did he lose his confidence?”
Tate shifted toward her. She did her best to ignore how his shirt pulled tight across his impressive biceps. She wasn’t very successful. His biceps were really impressive. Well-defined. Concentrate, Noelle. She jerked her gaze up to his, beyond grateful he couldn’t read minds.
“He had a few errors, which isn’t uncommon,” he said. “Plays tend to be bam bam at third base, but he couldn’t let them go and it mushroomed into this bigger thing than it should have been. Now every time he throws the ball, it’s an adventure. You can feel the whole stadium tense up when the ball comes his way. He feels it. He has to.”
She nodded, finally understanding. “Sounds like a mental problem rather than a physical one.”
“It is, but the Rangers can’t worry about that. They’re in the middle of a playoff race, and they need a reliable third baseman. It’s not called the hot corner for nothing. I’ve been looking at possible replacements and the best thing the Rangers can do is trade for Scotty Graze from the Cubs. He’s on the market, plays a great third base, and has put up some decent offensive numbers. The Rangers need to make that happen.”
Noelle held up a hand. “Wait. I don’t care about this Scotty Graze guy. I want to talk about Rich Ramirez. That’s his name, right?”
Tate’s brow wrinkled. “Why? He’s at Triple-A. I’ll care more about him when he’s ready to contribute to the Rangers again.”
“Do you think that’s going to miraculously happen overnight?”
“He needs a change of scenery. He’ll be fine.” He shrugged.
Was he really that unconcerned about the player? She frowned at him. “He needs someone to believe in him.”
Tate snorted. “Give me a break. He’s a grown man making a ton of money playing baseball.”
“None of that matters if he doesn’t believe in himself or think he has the organization’s support.”
“So what’s your solution, Dr. Noelle?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Ooh, he was getting annoyed now. Probably not used to someone challenging him. She shouldn’t take delight in riling him, but he was wrong, so it was okay.
“The team should’ve kept him in the majors and worked with him,” she said. “He probably needs to see a sports psychologist.”
“They shouldn’t have to babysit him.”
Noelle shook her head. “It’s not about babysitting him. You said the team is paying him a lot of money. I’m sure they’d prefer he earned that money in the major leagues. You also called him promising. What do you think it does to his confidence and ability to recover if he thinks the team isn’t standing by him?”
A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I’m not concerned about his confidence. I am concerned about the Rangers’ chance of making the playoffs. They can worry about hurt feelings after they win the World Series.”
“Do you honestly think that’s going to happen? I’m sure the other players are looking over their shoulders to see if they’re the next to go if they’re not perfect. Sounds like a fun, productive place to be.”
“Sports don’t work that way,” he said flatly.
“How do they work then? I don’t know a lot about sports, but I do understand teamwork. If everyone isn’t playing his part and pulling his weight, then the team will fail.”
“Exactly.” He nodded once, decisively.
She held up a hand. “No, you misunderstand me. The solution isn’t to cut the guy loose, but to figure out how to get him to contribute to the team in the best way possible. Build him up, not tear him down.”
Tate shook his head. “Doesn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve played sports. I’ve covered sports for a long time. History is a good indicator of the future. Your ‘Kumbaya’ attitude doesn’t cut it.”
Tate’s dismissive response pushed her to the edge of anger.
“Maybe it’s time to try something new,” she said. “If I take your cavalier attitude about marriage into consideration, then I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re willing to get rid of a guy at the first sign of trouble.”
His eyes flashed. “Dr. Noelle, you know nothing about how sports work. You should stick to relationship advice.”
That response pushed her headfirst over the edge. “No, our show is supposed to be about us combining our particular skill sets. I can’t turn off the psychologist part of my brain with a snap of my fingers.”
“Well try.”
The glare he sent her way let her know that if she didn’t, one of them wouldn’t survive the next few weeks.
…
Tate recognized Noelle’s floral perfume before he swiveled on his stool. “Hey, you stayed.”
He’d lost sight of her in the crowd when their show ended and some fans walked up to him seeking autographs. The bar had also filled up with listeners getting off work, many who’d made a beeline for her. Many being men.
Then he’d gotten wrapped up in his own show for the next two hours.
She offered up a tentative smile. “You showed up early and listened to my show. Only seemed fair that I stay for yours.” She pointed behind her. “I sat in the back. Good show. The give and take you have with your listeners is admirable.”
“Funny,” he said with a grin. “I’ve always gotten the sense that you thought they were all brownnosers.”
Noelle cleared her throat, her eyes sliding away for a second. “I don’t re
call voicing that opinion out loud, but maybe I’ve thought it once or twice.” She sighed, her face scrunching up in regret. “I apologize for being a little strong in my opinion and taking the low road when I brought up your views on marriage during the Rangers’ segment.”
Good thing he was always prepared to accept an olive branch when it was extended. “Don’t sweat it. I was—how did you put it?—strong in my opinion, too. You were doing your job, offering your opinion, even if I disagreed with it.” He nodded at the empty stool next to him. “Have a seat. Where’s Caitlin?”
She slid onto the leather seat. “Long gone. She had a date. What about Bobby?”
Tate swiveled to face the bar again. “He had a family thing. Nephew’s birthday.”
“Oh, okay.” Silence fell for a few seconds. Noelle tapped her fingers on the burnished wood of the bar. “So, uh, do you want to talk about the bet?”
“Come on, now,” he said, shooting her a side-eye glance. “We’ve had a long day. It’s Friday night. Let’s relax for a few minutes before thinking about work again.”
Noelle winced. “You’re right. Work is never far from my mind. Bad habit.”
“You know what they say about all work and no play.”
She sighed. “It makes Noelle a very boring girl. I know you think I’m dull.”
“Hey, don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Even when they’re true?”
He grimaced, unable to deny her claim.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ve had less than charitable thoughts about you, too.”
“Really? I thought you were declaring your never-ending love with those disapproving looks in the weekly meetings.”
They shared a smile, their gazes catching and holding. She really was pretty when she wasn’t frowning at him. Gorgeous, actually.
Clink, clink.
Tate jerked his head to the left. He met the amused eyes of the bartender, Steve, who’d tapped a glass bottle.