Perfect Game

by Collette West

  "It's all in your mind, bro," Jake responds, tapping the side of his head with the end of the stirrer.

  "Nah. It's dedication," Scott counters. "I'll do whatever it takes to win. Nothing comes before the team—nothing."

  "That's good to know. I'll have to file that away for future use," I jest, but my smile quickly fades because of what I see when I look up.

  Sammy is chatting up our producer, John, his eyes fixed on me. When Sammy nods in my direction, John looks over and shakes his head while Sammy shifts his camera bag onto his shoulder so he can speak more emphatically with his hands. The two of them continue to stare while conversing back and forth with each other.

  I have to get out of here.

  "Umm…have a good flight, guys. See you in New York." I can't hide the fact that I'm upset—at least, not from Scott—and he shoots me a questioning look.

  "Thanks, Carrie. Just watch out for the Gatorade," Jake jokes, totally clueless that I'm freaking out inside.

  "Don't remind me." I give him a weak grin while hurriedly backing away.

  "Yeah, Scott likes to grab the bucket and drench whoever gets the game-winning hit. So if we're down in the ninth and make a comeback or we score in extra innings, make sure you get out of the way when you're doing your post-game interviews," Jake prattles on, telling me stuff I already know.

  "Great. More to look forward to from Scott Harper." This time, I let my smile reach my eyes because, at that moment, the only person I'm aware of in this crowded airport is the one I think I'm falling for—the one who's dangerous, oh so dangerous, for my career, my life, my heart.

  "You ain't seen nothing yet, Miss McKenzie." Scott smiles back at me, his sexy tone sending chills down my spine.

  I know that, deep down, if push comes to shove, I'd be willing to risk it all for him…but for now, we better play it safe.

  Too many eyes are on us.

  ***

  "Get over here right now!"

  A shrill female voice assaults us the minute we step outside and into the chilly New York air. We all turn and stare—players, coaches, reporters—and my jaw drops.

  It's Jessica Wallace—the Academy Award-winning actress and undisputed star of Scott's naked selfie album. She's screaming out the window of her limo, the wind whipping her blond shag cut across her face, and my heart drops when Scott ducks his head and starts trudging reluctantly toward her.

  "Oooo, somebody's in trouble," Drake Schultz, the third baseman, gloats. "Scotty-Boy's about to get his ass handed to him. What I wouldn't pay to see this!"

  "Move along, fellas. C'mon. It doesn't concern you." Chase Whitfield, trying to be the voice of reason, beckons the team forward, making me see why Grey fell in love with the guy.

  "Jess must be really pissed if she showed up at the airport." Jake winces, glancing back over his shoulder. "But what does he expect? He's been dodging her calls and texts."

  I have the blatant urge to tell him to keep his mouth shut. God, just because they were roommates in Panama doesn't mean Scott wants the other guys all up in his business.

  But Jake keeps going. "The only time Scott reached out was in that K-TV interview he did with Carrie, but he gave a blanket statement and didn't mention anyone by name. That's probably what she's so steamed about. She wants an apology live and in person."

  "You don't screw Jessica Wallace and then turn her into some kinda joke. Harper's a dead man," Drake states like it's a given. "You should've pressed him for names, newbie." He nudges my arm as he walks by. "Now, these women are lining up to rake him over the coals. You didn't do him any favors, letting him run the show."

  "I didn't think it was appropriate," I reply, resentful of having to explain myself to a creep like Drake Schultz. "Everybody already knows who's in those photos with Scott. Besides, if I went through each and every one of them, the interview would've been three hours long."

  "Get in the backseat—now!" Jessica yells at Scott.

  He doesn't move, trying to stand his ground. But then some of the photographers in the traveling press pool advance on him and start taking pictures. My stomach churns when he has no other choice but to get in beside her.

  "Wow. He's finally gonna get what's coming to him and it ain't gonna be pretty," Drake mutters, shaking his head.

  "What does he expect for fooling around like that? If you're gonna sleep around, at least be discreet about it. Have some class," Jake remarks, obviously feeling he has the right to take the moral high ground, when he really just sounds like a pompous ass.

  "Harper has none," Drake snickers.

  "I only wish these photos hadn't surfaced so close to the start of the season," Chase states plainly. "We need him focused and ready to go. Although nothing fires Scotty up like competing on the field. He never backs down from a battle between the lines."

  "But isn't he fighting himself this time? What good is that gonna do him?" Drake asks.

  "He needs to grow up. That's what he needs to do," Chase replies.

  After having talked with Grey, I know that he's speaking from experience. Unlike Jake's, his advice isn't meant to chastise Scott. His intentions are good and from the heart.

  But it doesn't stop my outburst of anger. "Jeez. For being his teammates, you think you guys'd be out there supporting him, not criticizing him behind his back."

  "Carrie, I don't mean to be rude, but we've all seen this coming for a while now," Jake says more delicately. "Scott's fooling around was gonna blow up in his face eventually. He was gonna piss off the wrong woman and there was bound to be hell to pay. I think we're all just shocked it took this long."

  "We're all behind him, but we're just waiting for the smoke to clear," Chase says. "Then we'll assess the damage and see how he bounces back from all of this. When we go on the road, is he gonna be right back in the hotel bars, picking up chicks again? Or is he gonna realize that he can't be doing that shit anymore?"

  "So, it's not just celebrities, then?" I ask, whipping my head around and peering anxiously into each of their faces.

  "Not by a long shot," Drake answers a little too quickly for my liking. "He's rich, good-looking, famous. Hooking up with women is just too damn easy for him."

  "Like you all have it so hard," I groan, not accepting that as an excuse.

  "I'm not saying it is, but I think the rest of us are a little more selective when it comes to whom we sleep with," Jake says, giving me an appraising look. "Scotty's willing to drop his anchor in any port. He sure set himself up to be a vulnerable target."

  "But there has to be a reason why he's like that," I counter, shoving my hands deep in my pockets and trying not to appear too interested. I don't want them to think I'm digging for dirt in any type of professional capacity.

  "He's obviously lacking something in his life that he's trying to make up for," Chase offers, looking worried when Jessica's limo tears away from the curb with Scott still inside.

  "And none of you have ever sat down and talked with him about it?" I question, my heart beating wildly.

  Because if Scott just took off with her like that, what does it say about us?

  "It's not the kind of conversation guys have with each other. It's something he's gotta figure out on his own," Chase replies in such a straightforward manner that I can't help but believe him. "Maybe you can help him out a little. At least better than we can," he continues, appealing to me, unaware that I woke up in Scott's arms this morning. "You seem up to the task."

  "I'm just curious. That's all," I respond, backing away from what he's implying. "The interview opened up so many questions about him. It's the reporter in me wanting to find out more."

  "Well, don't get too close to the shark tank or you're liable to get bit," Jake warns, clearly not liking the idea of me getting close to Scott.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I inquire, staring up at him.

  "Scotty has a lot of women after him. You wouldn't be the only one," Jake replies bitterly.

  "Yeah. Take a number, sweet
heart," Drake taunts, walking in front of me to laugh in my face.

  "Don't listen to them, Carrie," Chase cuts in. "Scotty's had his head turned a bit by being in the big leagues. It happens to the best of us. He'll snap out of it eventually and realize what's really important. At least, we hope he will. Don't give up on him yet. The thing he needs the most right now is a friend. A true friend. Someone who'll stand by him even when he acts like an idiot. He complains that no woman ever wants him for him—they only want what he can give them."

  "Yeah, but I don't think Scott has friendship in mind when it comes to me," I admit, rolling my eyes.

  "Then don't put out," Jake says, making me blush. "It's as simple as that. Make him go crazy."

  "No, don't do that. We need his bat in the lineup. Don't have her go messin' with his head, Jake," Chase scolds him.

  "Hey, he might hit better than ever if he's all jacked up. You never know," Drake deadpans, the corner of his mouth turning up. "Now, that'd be something."

  "Stranger things have happened," Jake admits, his eyes going wide. "But damn…"

  "All right. Keep him sex-free as long as you can, McKenzie. Let's see if we can make a man outta him yet," Chase chuckles, patting me on the back.

  "I didn't sign up for this," I moan.

  Jake rounds on me. "But you wanna help him, don't you?"

  "But what if he just sleeps with someone else in the meantime?" I voice the question we all have in our heads, hating the mental images I'm having of what he could be doing with Jessica Wallace in the back of that limo this very second.

  Chase is quick to reply. "He won't."

  "How can you be so sure?" I press, needing to know why a former playboy like him would say that.

  "Nothing keeps Scotty interested like the thrill of the hunt. He'll be all over you, twenty-four-seven, until he has you," he replies, giving me his signature panty-dropping grin.

  "Great," I mumble. There's no way I can say no to Chase Whitfield. Not when he's looking at me like that. God, no woman can.

  He gives my shoulder an encouraging squeeze before marching forward, leading his troop of sexy-ass ballplayers onto the team bus. "We're all counting on you to whip him into shape, McKenzie. Don't let us down."

  Chapter Seven

  Scott

  "I see your ear is still attached to your head."

  I spin around, and there's Carrie, strolling by the clubhouse door right when I'm walking out.

  Perfect timing, Care Bear.

  "And why wouldn't it be?" I ask like I have no idea what she's talking about, a slow smile creeping across my face at how good it is to see her.

  "I don't know. I thought Jessica Wallace might've chewed it off yesterday or something. She didn't look too happy."

  Carrie has to stop getting so bent out of shape over nothing. I'm with her now—or, at least, I'm trying to be if she'll let me. Doesn't she get that? I'm not thinking about any other woman besides her. I should know because the first thing I thought about this morning was how much it sucked waking up without her next to me.

  I fall into step beside her, aware that I need to make it plain that Jessica is ancient history. "Jess can be a pain in the ass—but I handled her."

  But it's like Carrie's purposely tuning me out. "I really liked her last movie, especially that scene in the diner where she flips out and throws a bowl of soup all over her date. I just never knew she had such a great rack."

  "You're shocking me right now, McKenzie," I bust her, hating that we're back to my damn selfies again.

  "But she has a saggy ass just like the rest of us. She's not that perfect."

  I jump in, taking my cue from her. "Far from it, I'm afraid. Jess is a total nutcase." I run my hand across my jaw, still able to feel the slap of Jess's hand across my face. "Talk about clingy."

  "What? She didn't want to let you go?" Carrie sasses me.

  "Nah. It felt like she was friggin' stalking me for a while there." I bite the bullet and open up to Carrie, telling her things no one else knows. "Thank God she was filming in Romania for the past month or I don't think I ever would've shaken her."

  "So, surprising you at the airport was her version of a 'home sweet home' booty call?" Carrie mocks me, already thinking that I cheated on her, and that just rubs me the wrong way.

  "I didn't go back to her hotel with her if that's what you're asking," I snap, annoyed that she would think that I'd throw away what we had in Panama just like that.

  "I'm an adult. I get it," she says bitterly, not believing me.

  "I wouldn't do that to you, Care Bear. We're still figuring things out, so you have my undivided attention. No one else gets in the way of that. Nobody."

  I never say shit like that 'cause it's not how I roll. But I'm going out on a limb here because it's important that she knows what I'm thinking. I exhale in relief when she finally smiles back at me, and I can tell that's exactly what she needed to hear in order to feel good about us again, now that we're away from a tropical paradise and back in the real world. This honesty stuff is scary as hell, but when it feels right—and I can get her to smile at me like that—then the payoff is entirely worth it.

  I know that this is a pivotal moment for us. She's vulnerable, taking a leap of faith, allowing herself to believe in me, that we can work as a couple. I won't screw this up and betray her trust. She needs to know that her heart is safe with me.

  "So, not even the youngest Oscar-winner in twenty years can turn your head?"

  "Not even her."

  "Wow. I never knew you were so devoted."

  "But my patience is wearing thin, Care Bear," I warn, thinking of the restless night I spent without her. "You'd better not keep me waiting that much longer for another tussle between the sheets. I nearly went crazy last night when you turned off your phone and I couldn't get ahold of you." I rake my hands through my hair, pleading with her with my eyes.

  "Oh, I intend to keep you waiting," she responds with a naughty, little grin on her face. "I gave your teammates my word that I wouldn't distract you, that I'd keep your head in the game. So…no more sex. At least, not for a while."

  "You promised them what?!" I bellow.

  "What's the fun in rushing things along? I'm all about drawing it out."

  "Sorry, but it ain't happening. Those fuckers can kiss my ass. I'm not on board for any of this tantric torture shit."

  "Harper, what did you just say?" Tony Liotta growls, stepping out of his office and into the hallway. He's the best manager a player could have, but right now, he looks like he wants to rip me a new one. "Get in here now! Talking to a young lady like that… What the hell is wrong with you?" He slaps my arm before turning to the woman who has a way dirtier mouth in the sack than I do. "My apologies for having to listen to this knucklehead, Carrie."

  "No worries, Tony. I've heard worse."

  "From my guys?" he snarls. "Tell me which ones. I'll break their necks."

  "I've been around the game a long time, Tony. You think players don't make comments like that on a regular basis?" She shrugs, and I feel myself getting just as fired up as Tony.

  "Well, it doesn't mean it's right, and it's not gonna happen on my watch. If any of my players give you trouble, Carrie, I want you to tell me—especially this one," he says, smacking the back of my head.

  "I've got it all under control, but thanks, Tony," she assures him, winking at me over his shoulder.

  "Scotty, now that you're already here, let's go in my office."

  I groan inwardly, not wanting to leave Carrie's side, but Tony doesn't pick up on my hesitation as I drag my feet behind him.

  "I caught something on video of one of your spring training games that I wanna show you. A slight adjustment might improve your swing even more. Come see what I mean and then take some hacks in the cage before the game and see if I'm right."

  He reenters his office, but I hang back, reluctant to leave her. "Hey, Care Bear. Before you go, if you're not gonna come home with me later, then how abou
t a good-luck kiss to start the season?"

  "I don't think so." She juts her chin toward Tony's open door.

  "God, you're tough. Well, if you won't kiss me, then how 'bout my bat?" I unzip my equipment bag and pull it out.

  "Don't be ridiculous!" she cries, glancing around nervously.

  "No, I'm serious. I want you to send me out on the right note. C'mon. Put your lips on that thick, hard wood of mine." I pound the end of the bat in my hand, daring her to say no to me.

  "Jesus Christ, Harper!" Tony yells out, overhearing me. "What did I just tell you?"

  "All right. Fine. If it'll put an end to your nonsense." Carrie grabs the bat out of my hands and presses it to her mouth.

  I immediately get hard when she puts those soft, juicy lips of hers on the barrel. I shift from foot to foot, watching her. She laughs, giving it a loud smack, her red lipstick marking the spot. I can't tear my eyes away from the outline of her kiss. It's standing out against the natural finish of the wood, right next to where my name is engraved.

  She hands it over to me, dabbing the corner of her mouth with her hand. "Now, get back to work."

  "Damn, girl. That was the sexiest thing I think I've ever seen." I take a step toward her, needing her to kiss my mouth and not just my bat.

  But Tony's voice halts me in my tracks. "In my office now, Harper!"

  "If I get a hit tonight, I'm gonna expect you to kiss my bat tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that…" I smile at her, slowly walking backwards, unable to take my eyes off her.

  "There's just one little problem." She laughs at me when I bump into the doorframe.

  "What's that?"

  "You have to get a hit tonight."

  "Oh, I will, Care Bear. I will. You can be sure of that." I give her that cocky grin I know turns her on and smile full out when I see that I've put that delectable shade of pink in her cheeks.

  Hell, I'm about to have the best season of my career if she keeps this up, because goddammit, that's the only thing that's going to keep her out of my bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Carrie

  "Damn him!" I cry out as soon as Andy Rader's off the air.