by Pamela Aares
He groaned inwardly and fought the urge to kiss her. “Glad there’s something we have to recommend us.” Surrounded by her family, Alana’s guests and reporters was definitely not the time or place for serious kissing. “But pizza’s Italian, isn’t it?” he added, unsuccessfully trying to take his mind off her lush mouth.
“Not pizza like this.” She licked her lips.
He wondered if anyone would notice if he dragged her into the rows of grapevines planted between the olive trees.
“Yo!” Jake Ryder clapped him on the back. “Hey, Zoe.” Jake put a finger to the brim of his cap in greeting. “Great party. Your family sure knows how to throw them.” He spoke with his characteristic soft Southern drawl.
In addition to Jake, there were two other guys from the South on the team. They hung out together—not cliquish, just close. Guys tended to cluster with what was familiar. The Dominicans and Venezuelans shared a language, the Southern guys shared a culture. But more than language or customs or culture, the guys on the team all shared a love of the game. It was a language that needed no words.
Jake grabbed a slice of pizza and ate it in two bites.
“Umm... someday you’ll have to come to North Carolina,” he said to Zoe. “We have our own version of this party—not so fancy, but just as good. More cousins, though.” He laughed. “Lots more.” He tapped Cody on the arm. “I saved you a seat at the table out there. Up front. The darned thing is about a mile long.” He stepped back, grinning. “Bet you can’t throw from one end to the other.”
Jake liked making bets, liked it too much for Cody’s taste. He’d become a regular at the wine country casinos as soon as the offseason had started.
“No bets,” Cody said. “Wouldn’t want the ball to end up in someone’s soup.”
“How about you, Zoe?” Jake asked.
“I’m terrible at betting, Jake. I could lose a coin toss if both sides were heads. And, unlike you two, I don’t get paid to aim.”
Jake laughed a little too hard at Zoe’s joke for Cody’s liking. He was in no mood to vie with a teammate he liked for the attention of a woman who’d flummoxed him. Cody offered Zoe his arm and breathed easier when she slid her hand to the crook of his elbow.
“At the Palace Casino last night,” Jake said to Zoe as the three of them walked up the graveled path, “I met a guy that knows you. Vito, I think he said his name was. Or maybe he said Vimo. High-stakes guy. Really high stakes. He must have serious bucks to play deep like that.”
“Vico?” Zoe tilted a narrowed gaze to Jake.
“Yeah, maybe he did say Vico. He had a strong Italian accent. He said he’s over here studying wine.” Jake snagged a glass from a passing waiter making his way down the drive with a tray of drinks. “I’d rather drink wine than study it.” He took a long draw from the glass. “And Matt and Alana make good wine.”
When they reached the grove where the luncheon table was laid out, Cody saw that Jake hadn’t exaggerated; the table stretched nearly out of sight. A clear tent had been erected to cover the length of it. There might be a drought, but the weather had been unpredictable. Unexpected short bursts of rain followed by sunshine made correctly guessing the weather an iffy proposition.
“So?” Jake nudged Cody. “Think you could throw that far?”
Infielders rarely had to throw farther than a hundred and twenty feet. But Cody had been a right fielder in college. He studied the long table, calculating.
“Okay, you’re on. But after lunch. And if I win, you stop betting on anything for the rest of the offseason.”
Why he felt responsible for Jake, he couldn’t say. He’d seen Jake around during spring training, but only after Cody had been called up to the majors had they spent any time together. Jake had befriended him and shown him the ropes, kept him from making rookie mistakes. And he knew Jake struggled with his gambling habit. Maybe being accountable to someone would help tone it down.
“Yes, Mom.” Jake turned to Zoe. “Watch out for this guy. He’ll have you walking the straight and narrow in no time.”
At Zoe’s puzzled look, Cody said, “Cleaned up. Not that you need any. Cleaning up, that is.” What was it about her that made his brain go one way and damned near everything else go the other?
Zoe knitted her brows.
“No bad habits,” Cody added quickly. “Being on the straight and narrow means no bad habits.”
Jake peered at him and then laughed. “I take it back. Cody’s off his good-boy game. I give you credit for that, Zoe. There’s a chance we might all have some serious fun today.”
Cody pulled out one of the chairs Jake had tilted up to reserve their seats and held it for Zoe as she took her place at the table.
“Don’t encourage him,” Cody said as he sat beside her in the adjacent chair. “Roasting people is a favorite Southern pastime.”
Roasting people sounded like a horrible affair.
“Not literally roasting them. It’s a figure of speech. It’s a friendly way of poking fun at traits that define people.”
She wasn’t sure that she liked Cody being able to read her face so easily. How was a woman to maintain her mystery if a man could divine her emotions and thoughts through her expressions?
“We do that, but there’s no charming phrase for such teasing in Italian. You can’t have as many siblings and cousins as I do and not expect to have your silliest faults exposed.”
People she didn’t know filtered into the seats near them on the opposite side of the table. Suddenly she was thankful that Jake had tipped up the chairs closest to them, reserving them for people they knew. Cody stiffened as two men in baseball shirts and caps passed by and then sat a few seats down from him. From their tubby appearance she knew they couldn’t be players. Fans. She hadn’t thought much about the lives of superstar athletes. Yet they plied their skills in a very public arena. The fame had to be awkward, at least sometimes. And for all his outward confidence, Cody’s mannerisms told her that beneath the persona of the very public man resided an extremely private, possibly even shy, individual.
She could relate.
Back home, when she’d had to take her mother’s place at galas and openings, she’d made it through the events. But afterwards she’d thrown herself across her bed, and it took hours before the exhaustion from making small talk subsided.
To her relief, her father and Coco slipped into the seats next to her.
Coco leaned back in her chair and reached over to tap Zoe’s arm. “Did you ask them yet?” she asked in Italian.
Zoe shook her head and Coco made a face.
“Are these seats reserved?” Adrian asked with a grin. “Royalty or just Giants fans?” he added quietly with a glance down the table at the two men in sports regalia.
“For trouble-causing brothers,” Zoe said. “Although we may need to rethink our strategy.”
“Too late for that,” Anastasia said as she waltzed up. “All for one and one for all.” She wriggled into the seat between Adrian and Jake and then winked at Coco.
Zoe had to laugh at the glowering look Coco shot at Anastasia. Then it occurred to Zoe that Coco’s crazy calendar scheme might be a cover-up for her baby sister’s efforts to get to know Cody’s handsome teammate better. If that were true, then perhaps once Coco secured a date it would be easier to coach her sister to set her sights on a more feasible photography project to kick off her career.
Soon the familiar banter of her family flowed around her. But with every breath she was aware of Cody as he listened and watched. He seemed particularly interested in what her father had to say and in the interaction between her and her siblings. Jackie had told her that observing was a part of a catcher’s job. She tried to remember what else Alex’s perceptive wife had said, but with every bite of food she swallowed, all she wanted was to get away. With him.
The waiters announced that dessert was to be served buffet style back under the big tent.
Zoe leaned close to Cody. “I love Alana and desser
t, but let’s go for a ride.”
“Here?” His breath was warm against her cheek.
“No, I brought my trailer. We can drive to Point Reyes. It’s only about forty minutes to the coast.”
“Nothing I’d like better,” he said with a smile that warmed her more than it should have.
It’d be a forty-minute drive to bliss.
He offered to drive the truck hauling the trailer, but Zoe refused. She needed the focus of driving to keep her nerves from ramping into an uncontrollable frenzy.
She hadn’t really thought her plan through, hadn’t expected to feel nervous. They were just going for a ride on the beach, after all. But the jumpy feeling in her stomach didn’t subside as she navigated the hills and pulled into a parking lot at Limantour Beach. She’d ridden this trail down to the beach a dozen times. But every move she made when she was around Cody felt oddly new, as if she were enveloped in some sort of spell. And nothing about the feeling was comfortable.
“I’ll ride Pyrois,” she said as she opened the trailer doors. She kissed her thoroughbred on the nose and slipped him an apple she fished from her pocket. “He’s a bit high-strung, but he’s used to me. I thought you might like to ride Ceros. He loves this beach.”
Cody looked out at the path leading through sand dunes and down to the sea. “I can see why.”
He took the halter from her hands. The muscles of his biceps bulged whenever he bent his arms. She was more than fascinated by his biceps. The few moments she’d been wrapped in his arms still blazed in her memory. Never had she felt so safe, as if being held was more than the simple act of being surrounded by his arms. As if his action was as much an intent of his will—perhaps even his soul—as it was a physical response of his body.
“I’ve been meaning to get out here for weeks,” he said as he turned and stroked Ceros. “It’s hard to believe this wild coast is so close to the city.”
“This is far wilder than any place near my home,” she said, failing to hide the quiver in her voice. “I feel like I can breathe more deeply under this vast sky.”
He stopped stroking the horse and turned to her. The afternoon sun streaked along the gold strands in his hair and deepened the green of his eyes. But it was the way he trained his eyes on her that made her breath catch in her chest.
“A sky bath,” he said in the husky velvet tone that set her nerves on fire.
“A sky bath?” she repeated, considering the meaning of his words.
“If you walk in the forest or under an open sky or swim in the sea, nature bathes you with all its best energies.” The corner of his mouth crooked up in a charming half smile. “Sometimes drinking in those energies is all that keeps me sane.”
She didn’t doubt his sanity for a minute. But she was beginning to doubt her own. Since meeting him, no matter how she’d tried to focus her thoughts, images of Cody had crept in. Now, with her plan to get to know him better fully underway, a panic crawled into her chest and squeezed tight.
She was glad she didn’t have to say much as they saddled the horses. Cody knew his way with tack. She’d brought the polo saddles, thinking he’d be more comfortable than on the English. There were amazing saddlers in Sonoma, and she made a mental note— again—to buy a Western saddle before she returned to Rome. She’d meant to order one last week but what with the viniculture classes and the constant demands of tending to the details for the gallery in Rome, buying a saddle hadn’t made it to the top of her list.
Remembering what else had distracted her—her intention to start something with Cody— caused her heart to skitter and her hand to stop midmotion. Was she really cold-bloodedly contemplating having a fling? A tryst? She might have had fantasies about Cody, vivid dreams, even, but the reality, when faced with the man and his own obvious desires, felt like playing with fire that had already leapt the bounds she’d imagined keeping it safely inside.
His back was turned, and she couldn’t help but admire the way he moved. Every motion was efficient, confident and graceful in a powerful, masculine way. He spoke in gentle tones to Ceros, and she could’ve sworn the horse talked back to him. She would’ve liked to have understood their exchange. For days she’d puzzled over what had made Cody the man he was and why she felt more than the tug of normal sensual desire for him. If only he weren’t so completely unsuitable for the future she craved, a future thousands of miles from the lovely coast they stood upon, she could imagine having a real relationship with an intriguing, alluring man like him.
They mounted and rode slowly along the path from the parking lot. The horses’ hooves clattered on the small bridge that crossed over a lush marsh. A heron squawked, startled, and flew off, a slash of gray in the bright blue sky. Cody nosed in behind her as they rode single file between the sandy dunes. She reined up where the trail opened onto the beach. The sun danced a blazing path of silver on the calm sea. Waves broke gently on the shore, making a soft hush as they slid up the hard-packed sand. She glanced at Cody. He shook his head, smiling.
“It’s like being called into paradise,” he said.
Such gently said words shouldn’t have disturbed her, but the strong allure that tugged at her seemed to use his every word or glance as fuel.
She eased Pyrois toward the sea. When they reached the low-tide mark, she couldn’t hold back any longer. With a click of her tongue and a squeeze from her legs, she urged him into a full gallop. The waves splashed at his hooves, and the wind from their speed sent her hair flying up, along with her spirits.
Cody caught up to her and then kept pace. He rode like he was born to it—and maybe he had been. She breathed in the wind, the sea, the sun, the man.
He let out a mighty, full-voiced whoop.
“That’s cowboy for awesome,” he said with a broad grin. “You should try it.”
She tried to copy the sound, but it came out flat.
“From here,” he said, pointing to his belt buckle. “Try again.”
She hauled in a deep breath and let out a deep, full, freeing cry that surprised her.
“That’s more like it.”
He grinned, waggled his brows comically, and took off down the beach. He handily beat her in that first dash, but when he circled Ceros, she took off again, whooping lustily and racing all out. Zoe won the second race, but only by a few strides.
They continued racing, picking out beach markers for their finish lines, until Zoe had to slow, letting Pyrois catch his breath at the same time she gathered her own. They rode at a leisurely pace, nodding at other riders sharing the beach with them. Zoe hadn’t felt so relaxed in months. She tipped her face to the sun.
After another quarter hour, Cody reined up. “Let’s wade. We can tie up to that tree.”
A lone tree grew between the cliffs at the opening to a small estuary. Sun glinted off a rivulet of water where the creek trickled a winding path to the sea.
Though she didn’t need his help, he lifted her down from her horse. They walked the horses up the beach and tied the reins to a low-hanging branch.
He sat on a log and removed his boots and socks.
She put her hands on her hips, considering. Taking off her boots seemed so intimate. Like facing a gap she craved to cross while at the same time some force held her back.
He tossed his boots and socks aside. “Do you have webbed feet?” he said with a laugh.
She shook her head.
“Here, let me help then.” He tugged her down onto the log. “Although I was looking forward to webbed feet. Or even a mermaid tail.”
He knelt in the sand and removed one boot. Her pulse raced as he slipped his finger up under the leg of her jeans and then peeled her sock down over her ankle. He brushed his fingers along her instep. She shivered at the shock of power that surged through her. No lover’s touch had ever affected her like Cody’s touch did.
Suddenly embarrassed, she snatched her foot from his hand and reached for her other boot, banging her head against his when she leaned forward.
“You’re a dangerous woman, Zoe Tavonesi.”
He crouched in the pose she’d seen him take again and again behind the plate at the ball game. His thighs bulged under the legs of his jeans, and she not so idly wondered what kept the seams from bursting.
“I can see I need to work on my sock-removal skills.”
“No, it’s just that I...”
That she what? Was so rocked by the merest touch of his fingers that she felt her carefully held world would unravel? She was being ridiculous. She yanked off her boot, peeled her sock off her foot and stood.
“Last one to the water is a gnocchi!” she cried as she ran full-out toward the sea.
He beat her by ten steps.
“A nyoki?” He wasn’t even winded.
“It’s a dumpling,” she said as she leaned her hands against her knees and fought to catch her breath. “What do you say?”
“Rotten egg.”
She screwed up her face. “That’s disgusting.”
“That’s why you never want to be last,” he said.
Without warning he scooped her up in his arms, as if she weighed no more than a sack of feed.
“This is what happens to losers.” He carried her into the surf. A wave rolled in, soaking both of them. She inhaled sharply and braced against the cold. Her nipples contracted against the wet cotton of her blouse. He stared down for a moment and then lowered his lips to hers.
Heat branded her as he teased her lips open with his tongue. The sea was bracing, but her entire focus was on the hot, pulsing shock of his tongue exploring hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. This kiss was nothing like the first one. This kiss had hunger behind it and a power she’d never tasted before. A wave hit them and nearly knocked Cody off his feet. She wiggled out of his arms and splashed through the surf to the tideline. He caught her hand and whirled her to him, his body bracing against hers, his chest pressed against her breasts.