Perfect Game

by Collette West

  "But Drake's willing to testify under oath. I have his signed affidavit right here," Diane reveals, sliding the paperwork onto Terry's desk. "It'll be your word against his, and who do you think the public is going to believe? The man who's already known for setting up his own players or the highest-paid player in the game?"

  Terry examines the document, before looking up and glaring at her. "This whole situation developed because of Drake. Your father signed him to this big, blockbuster contract and then looked to me to cut corners in order to find the money to pay for it. He wanted the headlines of signing Drake Schultz to the Kings, but he didn't want to get his hands dirty. I had to get creative and come up with ways to lower the value of the Kings' current players so I'd be in the driver's seat when their contracts were up. To resign them, I had to devalue their worth on the free agent market. That's why I blackmailed Chase. That's why I went after Jilly's girlfriend. That's why I had Scott's phone hacked. To pad the bank account of an overgrown asshole like Drake Schultz, who hasn't done squat for us since we brought him over, and now, you're throwing his affidavit in my face? You people are unbelievable."

  Wow. So it all comes down to Drake. Why am I not surprised?

  But Terry's not done—far from it. "You may have won this round, but it's not over yet. Arnold screwed me over, and I won't stop until the Kings are taken away from your family for good."

  "And who's going to buy them? You?" Diane laughs, but there's an audible tremor in her voice after having learned the real motivation behind Terry's actions. Now, she's just trying to save face. "Funny, but I don't think you have two billion in your bank account."

  Terry's face turns red when Diane rises and struts toward the door.

  "Scott? Carrie? Let's go. We're finished here."

  "The San Diego fans are going to hate you for this, Harper. You'll never be able to step foot in your hometown again," Terry snarls, watching us walk out.

  "Oh yeah?" I hold the door open, letting the ladies exit first before staring Terry dead in the eye. "Watch me."

  Chapter Forty

  Scott

  New York, New York.

  Let the media circus begin.

  "Scott, how are you holding up after being smack-dab in the middle of yet another controversy?"

  "Do you really feel like playing for the Heimlich family again after what Arnold did to you?"

  "Would you rather have stayed in San Diego to try to break the streak?"

  I face them head on, feeling like I can handle anything now that I'm back with the team I was destined to play for. I smile from the podium of the Kings' press conference room, ready to answer the questions of these relentless reporters—the ones who used to drive me nuts. But now that I've been away, I gotta admit that I kinda missed them.

  "The last few hours have been a bit of a whirlwind," I admit, cupping the brim of my brand-new Kings' cap. "I'm a little foggy as to what city I'm currently standing in. This is New York, right?" I joke.

  They actually laugh like they're glad to see me back too.

  I take that surge of confidence and run with it, delivering the quote I know they're looking for. "But I do know one thing—boy, does it feel good to put on the pinstripes again."

  But the truce is short-lived when one of them volleys a zinger at me. "So, you don't hold a grudge against Arnold or his family?"

  I take my time responding, thinking out my response. I keep Carrie's feelings first and foremost in my mind, knowing how much she loves her grandfather even though she knows how badly he messed up.

  "What Arnold did was wrong," I admit, earning a few startled gasps. No reporter in this room has ever heard a New York King disparage the venerated Arnold Heimlich, but I intend to tell the truth. "What he did to me, what he did to some other guys on the team—there's no excuse for that. But I think that Mr. Heimlich is gonna pay the greatest price of all: not being able to run this team. The Kings are his life, and no matter what he did to me personally, I'm sorry this had to happen to him."

  A shocked silence fills the room before a reporter in the back calls out, "Did you just say you feel sorry for Arnold Heimlich?"

  "Yeah, I do," I say firmly. "I think he got scared after his stroke and operated out of the fear of losing this team, something he'd worked his whole life to build. It was a mistake in judgment. He just wound up taking some pretty bad advice from the people he thought he could trust the most. I think we've all been there. I've done some pretty stupid things in my life too, so I can't blame him for that."

  One of the regular beat reporters who travels with the team raises an eyebrow in my direction. "Are you being so conciliatory toward your former boss because you're dating his granddaughter?"

  "I consider the entire team a part of my extended family," I admit in all sincerity. "When I walked in here today and saw the guys, it was like coming home. I know it's where I'm meant to be, and Arnold Heimlich's the one who originally gave me the opportunity, so I'll always be grateful to him."

  The same reporter follows up with, "Yeah, but does a guy like Arnold Heimlich deserve such loyalty?"

  "Do any of us?" I fire back, and the reporter just shrugs. "I'm as flawed as they come, yet here I am, standing in Kings Stadium with a second chance at being a King. I don't believe in writing people off. I was never the player who was supposed to come anywhere close to breaking this legendary hitting streak, and I'm just one game away from tying Joe DiMaggio. So yeah, I guess I'm a believer in those who are down and out making a comeback."

  I smile at him, and when he smiles back, it makes me feel like I've already won, whether I break the streak or not.

  Because I'm opening a lot of hearts, starting with my own.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Carrie

  "Those were some really nice things you said about Grandpa," I say, stroking Scott's chest as we lie in bed in his apartment after his first game back.

  Tonight, he tied the record, but for me, his words spoke louder than his actions.

  "They were all true," he murmurs, running his hand up and down my back.

  "You didn't have to do that, you know." I look up at him.

  "Yeah…" He rumples my hair, gazing down at me. "But I wanted to."

  I smile. "You're a pretty amazing guy, Scott Harper."

  "I just missed seeing your face in the pressroom," Scott responds and I drop my eyes.

  "About that…" I start.

  "Uh oh. I don't think I'm gonna like the sound of this," Scott groans.

  "It's nothing terrible," I say, nudging his side. "It's just that Mom is going to need all the help she can get in making this transition. The producers at SportsTV invited me back to cover the playoffs for them now that Grandpa's sentence has been handed out, but I already told them no. I'm leaving on my own terms. I don't need to be on the national stage anymore. I was able to prove to myself that I can make it on my own. I accomplished everything I wanted to accomplish as a reporter and reached every goal I set for myself. I made it to SportsTV. I was a national correspondent. But now, Mom needs me more. Gayle's been great, but she already has enough on her plate, so it's time to hang up my mic and try to pick up where my dad left off. Besides, my passion has always been for the game even though, up until now, reporting was the only avenue open to me. Just think, I won't have to wear all those skimpy outfits anymore. Hell, I might actually be taken seriously for a change."

  "Moving on up in the world, then? Vice president of the New York Kings? Wow, Care Bear." Scott shifts his body toward me. "Does that make you my boss now?"

  "One of them." I grin at him, obviously liking the idea.

  "Jeez. Then I'd better get a hit in my next game," he teases me.

  But I see right through him, seeing how nervous he is about it. The pressure he has been under these last fifty-six games has been enormous. I can't wait for it to finally be over so that he can get back to enjoying baseball again and just play the game he loves instead of having to live up to all of the hype and expecta
tions by the organization, the media, the fans—hell, the whole country has been watching every move he makes for months now. It's been a lot to deal with, but he's handled himself so well, and I couldn't be prouder of him.

  "There's just one thing you need." I glide my hand over the muscles of his chest, causing him to shiver at my touch.

  "What's that?" he groans, and I already feel his worries slip away as I rise up and hover over him.

  "This," I whisper, pressing my mouth to his.

  He kisses me back, long and deep, drawing courage from my lips. I pull away with a satisfied grin on my face.

  "Time to put your name in the record books, babe."

  "If that's what you want," Scott murmurs, grabbing my waist and flipping me onto my back.

  "Oh, it is." I smile up at him as his mouth crashes onto mine.

  And I know that, somehow, someway, he's going to find a way to rally himself for one last drive. And how do I know that? Because he's a man who'd never refuse me anything.

  ***

  "Scott Harper made a dazzling return to the Bronx last night, tying the record for baseball's longest hitting streak at fifty-six games. Can he break it tonight in a thrilling encore at Kings Stadium?" Andy Rader asks excitedly.

  I try to pick my head up, but Scott's body is weighing me down. I listen a minute and realize that Andy's voice is coming from the TV in the corner. It's the morning of the biggest day in Scott's career, and he's tuning in to the Kings' network, freaking himself out.

  "God, I don't know where I'm gonna find the energy to do this," Scott mumbles when I stir beside him.

  I glance up at him with concern. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

  "Not much," he admits, looking totally spent. "I couldn't turn my mind off."

  "You have nothing to worry about." I rest my hands on his shoulders. "As far as I'm concerned, you've already done it. You're at the top of the list, tied with DiMaggio. Everything else is just icing on the cake."

  "Yeah, but I'm sharing first place with someone else," he grumbles, his voice thick from lack of sleep. "I'd rather have the top position all to myself." He grins down at me. "Like I do now."

  I'm a prisoner in his arms as he keeps me pinned against his body—but I like it. It's turning me on big time. "What is it with you jocks?" I huff, pretending to be annoyed. "It's never enough, is it?"

  "Don't you know how my competitive mind works by now?" He nuzzles my neck, stilling me when I start to wriggle against him.

  "Where did all of that humility you showed in yesterday's press conference go?" I glance up at him, my heart beating erratically.

  "It's hidden behind my massive…ego." He flexes his hips and presses his hard-on against the curve of my backside.

  "Ahh…" I moan, loving that he's ready to go, considering I just opened my eyes a few moments ago. I want him to wake me up like this every day now that he's back in New York.

  But he's not done yet. "I have a much more important record I wanna break today."

  "What's that?" I groan when he fingers me, feeling how ready I am for him.

  "Making you come three more times before you leave this bed," he mutters, slamming himself into me from behind.

  I cry out, biting my lip because it feels so damn good. I love when he takes me like this. It's so friggin' hot. He moves himself all the way in then all the way out, tantalizing me with his own erotic form of sexual denial.

  "The only time I can relax is when I'm inside you," Scott groans, thrusting into me hard.

  My eyes roll back in my head at the sheer pleasure he's giving me, but somehow, I manage to pant, "You…call this…relaxing?"

  "I'd work up a sweat for you any day, Care Bear, if I'm able to put that sexy smile on your face." He rises up on his haunches, placing his hands on the backs of my knees, opening my legs even wider for his large body to fit between them.

  "Then go to it," I murmur as he strives within me. I gasp for breath when he goes at me, relieving all of his anxieties. The only thing I'm able to do is turn my head to the side. When he meets my eyes, I command him, "Wow me, Harper," my voice coming out all quivery as he pounds into me.

  "With pleasure," he says, bending his head and capturing my lips as he takes me rough and hard, and God, I love every single second of it.

  I'll be his stress reliever any day.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Scott

  "Dude, seriously. I didn't get a chance to tell you yesterday, what with all that was going on around here, but man, is it good to have you back. Now, there's no stopping us from going all the way this year," Jake says warmly as soon as I enter the clubhouse.

  "What? Did you actually miss me, Woodchucker?" I tease.

  We go through the complicated handshake Jake has for each guy on the team, mine ending with an explosion-like sound coming out of our mouths. He smiles at me, letting me know we're cool.

  "He's right," Chase says from across the room, getting everyone's attention. "It just wasn't the same without you, Harper."

  "But you guys have been kicking ass," I respond, looking around at my teammates. "You don't need me coming in here disrupting everything on you."

  "Scotty-Boy, you have the chance to do something none of us will ever be able to do. Don't you think we wanna be there for that?" Jake chimes in to a chorus of "yeahs" and "uh huhs" from the other guys. "It sucked having to watch you go for the record without us being the ones who were out there backing you up."

  "It's like we're all a part of it now. You're our bro, dawg." Brooks lumbers over, bumping fists with me. "Do you think those San Diego guys care about you the way we do?"

  "They're too busy frying their brains in the sun," Pedro chuckles.

  "Smoking them away is more like it," Jackson replies, getting a rise out of everybody.

  "But now that Arnold's gone and—" I protest.

  "And Terry's gone. As far as I'm concerned, this place needed a good housecleaning," Jilly responds, pounding his massive fist against the side of his locker. "They screwed us all by messing with our women. They only got what was coming to them."

  "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm kinda glad to have a lady boss," Jackson muses, scratching his chin. "She certainly can't fuck it up as much as her father did."

  "We are turning into a bit of a girl power convention, aren't we?" Drake snipes. "First Gayle, now Diane. That asshole from the Post is already calling us the Queens."

  "Well, maybe we'll all get our periods at the same time now," Jackson replies with a straight face, getting everyone but Drake to crack up.

  "If they start installing tampon dispensers in the locker room, I'm outta here," Colton snickers.

  "We can't grow beards. We have to cover our tats. We have to keep our hair short. What's next?" Pedro grouses. "Being told we have to wear tuxedos on the plane?"

  "Harper's girl is already putting lipstick on his bat," Jackson says, elbowing me in the ribs.

  "Yep. The bitching's begun now I know that I'm home." I smile, running my hand over the back of the number-fifteen jersey hanging in front of me.

  "Welcome back, Harper," Jilly says, slapping me on the back and nearly knocking me into my locker.

  I chuckle, shaking my head. Yeah, it's good to be back. I really missed these idiots.

  ***

  I exit the clubhouse, and I'm trying to keep the butterflies at bay when I stop dead in my tracks.

  "What are you doing down here, Care Bear?"

  She looks absolutely gorgeous, all curvy and delicious in a tight pair of jeans and a flowing, green top that brings out the kaleidoscope dimensions of those eyes that never fail to captivate me.

  God, she takes my breath away.

  While I stand there dumbfounded at her beauty, she takes my bat out of my hands, smiling at me.

  "One last hurrah for old time's sake."

  "Are you gonna miss it?" I ask as she holds my lumber up to her lips and kisses it one last time.

  "Allowing my hair to go back
to its natural shade of blond and being able to bend over in my clothes?" she teases, passing the bat back to me. "Absolutely not."

  "You're putting on a good front, but you like being front and center just as much as I do." Like I've said time and time again, I know her.

  "Mom gave both me and Alex a partial-ownership share, so although I might not be seen as much as I am now"—Carrie steps toward me, and I can practically taste her delicious mango scent on my tongue—"I'll still be one of the faces of the team."

  "Your face and my dick—now that's a winning combination," I say seductively, getting her to laugh.

  "Ah, that's the reason that I'll miss talking to you guys every night." She grabs a hold of my jersey, her eyes shining up at me. "You can't beat such scintillating conversation."

  "I know what you're trying to do," I mutter when I feel my back hit the wall. "But the minute I step into that dugout, you won't be able to take my mind off what everyone's expecting me to do tonight."

  "I thought I'm always able to distract you?" she murmurs, her voice hot and sultry as she slips her fingers beneath the buttons of my jersey, opening them one by one.

  "Undo one more of those buttons," I growl, clasping her hand in mine and drawing her in toward me, "and I'm taking you into the weight room and slamming the door." I kiss her with everything I have in me, letting my bat clatter to the floor.

  When I finally release her lips, she looks up me heatedly. She tightens her grip on my jersey, resting her forehead on my chin.

  "You have a game to play."

  "You were supposed to distract me."

  "Then how's this?" She yanks my jersey, crashing her already swollen mouth onto mine, kissing me full out. She bites down hard on my lower lip, making me groan and open up to her even more. Her tongue battles with mine, turning me on as I shove my hands in her soft, glorious hair, pulling on it until she's moaning right along with me.

  We part, gasping for breath and my dick aching to be deep inside her.

  "That was fuckin' incredible," I mutter, loving the way her chest is heaving against mine.

  "Scotty!"