The Heart Of The Game

by Pamela Aares

  Cody’s phone vibrated in his back pocket. He fished it out and saw that the call was from Hal Walsh, the Giants’ manager.

  “Better take this one.” He excused himself and walked away from Zoe and Alex.

  “Bond, you’re starting tomorrow,” Walsh said with his characteristic brevity. “The docs just confirmed Aderro’s not coming back this season, and Thornton has a killer flu. You’ll be batting sixth and catching Scotty Donovan.”

  He must’ve said something in response to Walsh, but as Cody clicked off his phone, he couldn’t remember what. Alex raised a brow, and Cody motioned him over.

  “I’m catching Donovan tomorrow.” He repeated what Walsh said about Aderro and Thornton. He didn’t have to mention that it was a big break. Catching in the NLCS playoffs was a big friggin’ deal. Especially since the game would decide if the Giants went on to the World Series.

  Alex raked a hand through his hair and looked out over the polo field. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “Ride for Zoe, I mean. People will understand.”

  People might, but Cody had given his word. And he never went back on his word. He wouldn’t be the reason a competition fizzled.

  “Piece of cake,” Cody said.

  Alex gave him the stare that made even the most seasoned pitchers quake. “We both know that’s not true.”

  Cody shrugged. “Best to stay on the horse then.”

  Zoe strode over from where she’d been talking with her other three players. She took a step back and tilted her head, studying Alex. “Something wrong?”

  “Nah,” Cody said. “I’m just boning up on the rules.” His mind was already focused on running stats and information and plans for the bigger game he’d face the next day.

  She crossed her arms. “Aronelli thinks you can do this.”

  Her flat tone and stance told him she didn’t agree. Cody wasn’t used to being assessed and judged as insufficient.

  He flicked his wrist and smiled. “I played lots of croquet with my sister.”

  “Polo is not in any way like croquet,” she shot back at him.

  He bit down his urge to point out the actual comparisons. Every sport had its techniques and challenges, and there were in fact similarities between the two games. He hadn’t meant to offend her. He’d been distracted by his thoughts about tomorrow’s playoff game and now regretted the flip remark. But he’d be damned if he was going to stand there and be judged by a rich, spoiled woman who didn’t know the first thing about his skill or experience.

  He tipped his fingers to the riding helmet he still wore. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

  He added the ma’am, knowing it would irk her. He really shouldn’t tease; the game was obviously important. He liked that she had a taste for competition.

  She hugged her elbows in tight. “I appreciate you doing this, truly I do. It’s just that... well, it’s just that—”

  She bit at her lower lip, and in the ensuing silence he couldn’t help but wonder what else she had a taste for. But the anguish Cody saw when he returned his gaze to hers dampened his smoldering desire. Something deeper than concern over this polo game ran lines of worry into her face. She squared her shoulders and hauled in a breath.

  “Yes. Well, thank you. Thank you very much,” she said with an unsuccessful attempt at a smile.

  He preferred her feistier tone to the resigned tone of her thank-you. But her eyes told him her gratitude was real, even if she didn’t think him up to the challenge ahead. And her body told him conflict roiled in every muscle as well as in her thoughts.

  “I need to check on the gate guards,” she said to Alex. She turned an impenetrable glance to Cody. “I need to make sure they have the latest guest list.”

  She stared at him for a moment. Though her eyes were green and not blue like Alex’s, she had a similar intensity to her gaze. Zoe Tavonesi was one hell of an intriguing woman. And one he had better keep at arm’s length.

  Chapter Three

  The lilting sound of women’s laughter poured out like sunshine into the dim hallway as Zoe approached the VIP luxury suite in the massive baseball stadium. Lifted by the welcome sound, she hoped she was headed for the right place. The other suites she’d passed were packed with groups of men.

  She wasn’t in the mood for men.

  Although, as she’d stared out at the practice area at the field level before seeking out the suite, Cody Bond had caught her eye. He hadn’t seen her, but she’d watched him. He’d crouched low, catching and returning a ball thrown to him over and over by a pitcher. At one point a ball skidded in the dirt and bounced into the mask covering his face. He’d torn it off and, to her surprise, grinned at the pitcher as he fired the ball back.

  She liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

  And there was no denying he had a body a woman remembered. In her dreams she’d watched that body... she and he were riding a shoreline somewhere, wild and free and...

  She smoothed a hand along one hip. Maybe she was in the mood for men after all. Or for one anyway. Yet she’d sworn she wouldn’t develop any relationships that would make it harder to return home. But the memory of her dream lingered and wouldn’t be pushed away. If the rumors about single ballplayers were true, maybe she could have a fling with Cody. He’d shown interest... those signals she’d read quite clearly. God, was she actually considering having some light, easy fun with a man she’d met just yesterday? Coco would have a field day if she suspected. Her baby sister had been eyeing Alex’s teammates with designs of her own.

  Zoe paused at the door of the luxury suite. If she’d had a camera, she could’ve captured a scene to rival any classic painting. Her cousins Alana and Sabrina clustered near the bar of the skybox with their friend, Chloe. Jackie, Alex’s wife, laughed as she poured from a tall, frosted pitcher. A woman Zoe didn’t know stood near the window, her camera trained on the field below. Poised, lovely and animated, they were the very picture of women comfortable in their power, women very much at home in the strange, cavernous stadium.

  Zoe couldn’t say the same for herself. Everything about the place felt foreign. As she’d walked from the field level to the elevator, the aromas of mustard and cooking meat had nearly overpowered her. When the doors had opened on the next floor, the scent of garlic accosted her. Perhaps every level of the stadium had its own unique odor according to the food preferences of the ticket holders crowding into the seats.

  And the noise was jarring. Though she’d arrived early and the stadium wasn’t nearly full, the shuffling and calls from the crowd were already building to an ear-splitting buzz.

  She wasn’t one for crowds.

  But she hadn’t wanted to refuse Sabrina’s invitation. Sabrina’s fiancé would likely pitch in this last game of a playoff series. Alana’s new husband would definitely be playing. And Alex, Zoe’s absolute favorite male cousin, was playing first base. Sabrina had argued that there was nothing like a baseball game to orient a person to life in the States. Zoe had thought she was kidding, but the enthusiasm on Sabrina’s face had told her otherwise and convinced her to join them for the game. Zoe just hoped she wouldn’t be quizzed on the positions each of the men played. She was still trying to match some of the loved ones with her cousins; matching their baseball positions to the right men would be asking too much of her.

  She fixed her best smile on her face.

  Perhaps watching the game would be fun, but it would take more than a field of green grass and lively competition to make her feel at home. She longed for the cafés of Rome. And she missed her friends. But her cousins were doing their best to help her settle in, and she appreciated them for it. A ping of guilt laced through her; with the exception of Parker, her cousins didn’t know her true plans. She was pretty sure the women gathered in the suite would understand her drive to return home, to settle back into the life she loved and honor her mother’s memory with the opening of the gallery. But because of her father’s strange behavior, she’d k
ept the progress on the gallery to herself. He couldn’t interfere with a plan he didn’t know about.

  “Holy stud on a cracker,” the woman Zoe didn’t recognize said in a distinctly French accent as Zoe stepped into the luxury suite. “Where did you get those shoes?”

  Zoe colored. She’d donned the brightly colored designer sandals at the last minute. They were her security blanket. If she couldn’t have her horse under her, she could at least have fabulous shoes. She’d talked Manolo out of the handmade sandals at a trunk show in Rome. With their braided turquoise straps and tiny interlocking strands of gold and coral, they were one of a kind. And her favorites.

  “Zoe’s got Manolo’s number.” Sabrina laughed. “Wave a real, live, polo-playing woman near him and bingo—shoes for a lifetime.” Sabrina wrapped an arm around Zoe’s waist. “Zoe, this is my friend Brigitte. Brigitte, meet my cousin Zoe.”

  “I hope you play poker,” Brigitte said. “Those lovelies are my size, and I could wager them off you.” She waved the camera she held at the open window overlooking the field below. “Almost compelling enough to take my mind off men. See those muscles?” Brigitte tossed a wink and a smile to Alana and Jackie. “These ladies sleep with those fine bodies every night. I try my best not to be insanely jealous.”

  “We also cope with the tempers that come with those fine bodies,” Sabrina said as she crossed to the window. “If the Giants don’t win this game, we ladies had better book a hotel for the night and let the guys hole up and tend to their wounded pride.”

  “I saw you eyeing Cody Bond down on the field,” Jackie said as she poured a tall glass of fizzy pink liquid and handed it to Zoe. “Alex tells me he rode broncs. Can you even imagine?”

  “This from a woman who wrestles six-hundred-pound sea lions into submission?” Chloe laughed. “I should think a wild horse would be a piece of cake.”

  “Cake?” The odd idioms of American English still stumped Zoe.

  “No, the cake’s on the field.” Brigitte took Zoe’s arm and led her to the window. “That’s cake.” She swept her arm toward the players.

  “Brigitte’s Parisian accent makes the word cake sound downright sinful,” Chloe said with a laugh. “But I want to thank you, Zoe. Your event raised over eighty-seven thousand dollars for the Boys and Girls Club. Scotty is thrilled. That’ll buy a lot of books, food and tutors for a while to come.”

  Zoe felt the heat rise into her cheeks. If they’d known how little she’d wanted to do the event, how Parker and her father had needed to talk her into it...

  “Parker gets the credit for the success.”

  “And from what I saw, Cody Bond gets an assist.” Jackie sipped at her drink, but her gaze was leveled at Zoe.

  “More than an assist.” Zoe couldn’t help but admire how deftly Cody had ridden in the match the day before. He’d ridden her sixteen-hand thoroughbred like he’d been born to it.

  “I loved the humble way he stood with the team after the match as they accepted the winner’s trophy,” Sabrina said.

  “Maybe he’s shy,” Brigitte said. “I love shy men. The thrill of luring them out of their shells.”

  “He didn’t look shy yesterday. He rode like the devil,” Jackie said.

  Any true athlete knew that along with preparation, there was a magic to movement, a power within a game that belonged not to the individual but to the game itself. Cody seemed to know that. Zoe liked that about him too.

  “With all the guests and the press, I barely had the chance to thank him.”

  “It’s your lucky night then, Zoe,” Jackie said. “We’re going out for drinks after; maybe he’ll come along.”

  “In that case I am definitely coming.” Brigitte shot Zoe a teasing smile. “Just in case your hormones aren’t talking to you.” She looked down at the field. “Mine are. Most definitely. I’d be happy to thank him for you.”

  Zoe felt the flush creep into her cheeks. She sipped from her glass and welcomed the tang of lemons, cranberries and vodka sliding down her throat.

  “I should’ve bought Cody for my Sabers when I had the chance,” Chloe said. “We could’ve used him in the playoffs this past week. Might’ve won. Scotty tells me he has brains to go with all that power.” She tilted her head toward the field. “Guess we’ll see today.”

  “You can’t win every year,” Jackie said into the silence.

  “Good thing my father’s not around to hear you say that.” Chloe laughed lightly. “He was still making trades to create a championship team on his deathbed.” She gestured to the sky. “Probably still is.”

  Zoe was amazed that Chloe could talk about her father’s death with such apparent ease. Losing her mother had been devastating. Some days Zoe still saw flashes of her mother out of the corner of her eye or heard her voice. But losing her father would just level her.

  Zoe batted away tears.

  Sabrina reached over and slid an arm around her waist. “Hey, I know. It does get easier.” She hugged Zoe closer. “Zoe lost her mom last year,” Sabrina told the others.

  Such an odd phrase for death, Zoe thought. But that’s what it was, a loss, a gaping absence that no one who hadn’t experienced the death of a loved one could ever understand. Sabrina did. After her father died, she’d spent a month with Zoe in Rome.

  “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Chloe’s gentle words broke the awkward silence that hung heavy in the skybox.

  A waiter bustled in with a tray of tiny sandwiches surrounded by strips of red peppers and carrots. He glanced from Chloe to Jackie, a question in his eyes.

  “Thank you. Put it over there,” Chloe said, motioning to the bar.

  “Food that I recognize,” Jackie said as she helped herself to a sandwich. She waved it in Zoe’s direction. “We should be bringing Zoe up to speed on the game.”

  Grateful for the shift in energy, Zoe thanked the heavens for Alex’s feisty, perceptive wife. Deep down she hoped to find love like Jackie had found with him. But that would have to wait for another time. A time when life was not so complicated. A time when she could meet love on her own solid home ground.

  “Alex told me that catchers are the brains of a team,” Brigitte said, looking pleased with herself. “They know the patterns of the hitters and work with the managers to call pitches.” She tapped her manicured fingertips against her cheek. “I do love brainy men.”

  “My, my, my,” Alana said as she joined them at the window and peered through her binoculars at the field. “You’ve been studying up, Brigitte. I remember when all you knew about baseball was that the guys had good glutes.”

  Matt, Alana’s husband, had helped Alex brief Zoe on baseball over a game of pool the previous week. But as Zoe stared down at the field, she discovered that none of the rules had stuck in her brain. What with dealing with the fundraiser and absorbing all the details of learning to run a vineyard, she was on more than overload. Her life in Italy seemed more than seven thousand miles away. It felt like another life entirely.

  She flicked her gaze over the fans in the stadium. They held homemade signs, many wore hand-knit caps fashioned with the team colors, and families clustered together, laughing and leafing through their programs—the scene was the opposite of the crass commercialism she’d expected at an American ballpark.

  The strains of an anthem sounded, and the crowd in the stadium rose out of their seats.

  “Show time,” Chloe said as she and Jackie joined them at the window.

  After the anthem, a little boy threw out a pitch—more comical than ceremonial, as Chloe said it was supposed to be—and the Giants players took their places on the field. The easy mood of her cousins and their friends instantly shifted, and a buzz of tension filled the suite. This game would determine whether the Giants went to the World Series or not. Zoe thought it odd that it was called the World Series since it was played only in the States, but she hadn’t said anything. Baseball was sacred to her California family, rather like polo was to her. She could respect passio
n for a game.

  Cody knelt behind the plate and caught a couple of balls thrown by Chloe’s husband, Scotty Donovan. These were not the same throws Zoe had observed during the warm-up down on the field. The ball flew so fast she had to concentrate to follow it. To even see it. In his padding and helmet, Cody looked like some sort of modern-day warrior. A player walked into the chalked-off box in front of Cody and swung. Zoe sucked in a breath. The bat’s backswing was inches from Cody’s face, but he didn’t flinch. He just caught the ball and fired it back to Scotty. The power of Cody’s throw shot a zing of pleasure straight to her belly. Strong men had always been one of her weaknesses. A weakness she rather enjoyed.

  “Scotty’s timing is good,” Jackie said with a sidelong glance at Chloe.

  “He’s as nervous as a fox circled by hounds.”

  Chloe didn’t laugh at what Zoe thought was supposed to be a joke. Zoe concluded the other woman was worried for her husband.

  “Don’t mind us,” Sabrina said. Her gaze roved over Zoe. “Maybe you’d enjoy the game better if you weren’t watching it with a bunch of over-anxious wives. I have an extra seat down by Kaz’s family.”

  “Not in a million,” Zoe said, using the American phrase she’d picked up from Alex. “I like the behind-the-scenes.” And, if she were to be honest, she liked being up, away from the crowd. She’d never understood it, but being closed in by crowds, being closed in by anything, made her throat constrict and anxiety grip her. Not something she was proud of.

  At first the umpire’s calls about balls and strikes seemed arbitrary. But as Sabrina coached her and Zoe studied the pitches through the binoculars, she began to see the patterns and to recognize the strike zone. But her binoculars often wandered from the ball’s path and tracked over to Cody Bond. And stayed there for longer than she’d dare admit. In the second inning, when he jumped up and said something to the umpire, something anger-filled from the look of them both, Jackie sucked in a breath.

  “Not a good thing to do so early in the game,” she said. “But Cody’s probably on edge. It’s only his tenth big league game and his first start. It can’t be easy being a rookie called up during the playoffs.”