The Heart Of The Game

by Pamela Aares

  Her breath hitched as his hand cupped her breast and he resumed kissing her.

  Something thudded against her hip, startling her. She looked down to see a ball in the sand at her feet. A collie banged into her shins as he tried to retrieve the ball. Zoe looked up to see a girl of about five approaching, her father only a few yards behind.

  Cody released Zoe and bent down to pick up the ball.

  “That’s mine,” the girl said, fisting her hands to her hips.

  Cody handed her the ball. “Your pup thinks it’s his.”

  The girl tilted her head. “Well, it is. Sort of. But I bought it with my allowance, so really it’s mine. But we share.” She held out the ball to Cody. “Would you like to throw it for him?”

  Cody took the ball, hauled back his arm and sent the ball arcing along the beach.

  The girl gaped at his throw.

  “You do that better than me,” she said.

  “Practice,” Cody said, smiling. “Keep at it and you’ll be throwing like that in no time.”

  The father stood a couple yards away, watching. Zoe held her breath, hoping for Cody’s sake that the man wasn’t a baseball fan.

  “Thanks,” the man said as he turned back up the beach. “That could’ve been the second ball we lost today. We’re still working on aim.”

  “We should head back,” Zoe said as she smoothed a hand over her sodden hair.

  Wet and smiling, she looked like a sea nymph. A very sexy and delicious sea nymph.

  “Should we?” Though all he wanted was to resume their kiss, he took his cue from her. If the girl and her dog hadn’t come up the beach, he might’ve had the opportunity to test out the power of his fantasies.

  “Yes. No.” She hauled in a breath. “Definitely yes. I promised Alana I’d give her a hand with a painting she’s working on.”

  “You make a lot of promises.”

  “It might be my worst habit.”

  “I hope it’s not contagious,” he said, wriggling his brows.

  She kept her distance from him as they walked silently back up the beach. They retrieved their boots and socks and sat down on opposite ends of the log. Hell, so much for more contact helping to dilute the haunting feelings he had for her. Most of him wanted to leap over the space separating them and tackle her to the sand. Her pulse throbbed in the creamy skin of her throat, and her breaths were shallow, shaky, both telling of her desire. But her body language as she concentrated on shaking the sand from her socks kept him planted.

  “Tell me about riding the rodeos,” she said as she dragged on a boot. “I’ve never been to one.”

  Perhaps conversation would lessen the torture of fighting back his impulses to pull her close, their bodies touching, and kiss her senseless.

  “It’s a tricky business, riding broncs.”

  It had been a long time since his rodeo days, but the images were fresh and strong, as if he’d last entered the arena only yesterday. “Broncs love to buck, the urge is in their blood.”

  He kept his eyes on the sand as he shook it from his socks. If he looked at her again before the heat simmering in his veins settled down, words wouldn’t extinguish the urges she fired in him.

  “On my best days I could flow with the horse’s power,” he said as the images and the words to match them came rushing back to him. “Too many jacked-up cowboys think bronc riding’s all about them, but they’re wrong. It’s all about the horse. I discovered early on that if I respected what the horse loved, it was like a key to entering a new world. The rides became a partnership, a dance instead of a fight.”

  Though he knew it’d be a test of his willpower, he turned to her. A thoughtful look came into her eyes.

  “Where did you learn such things?”

  Her sweet accent transformed simple words into signals that whipped up his craving. She bit at the curve of her bottom lip as she waited for his answer. The urge to kiss her again shot blood straight to his groin.

  He couldn’t tell her that the same pulse of energy that he tapped into for anything important was the same power that had him wanting to make love with her at that very instant.

  Control.

  It was hard to hold his control around Zoe.

  But the one tool he trusted most was his ability to control his emotions, his environment and his actions. That ability had been his escape route out of the misery of his family and his ticket into the world of baseball, the world that kicked him to life again after some seriously dark days. But the power he’d tapped into when kissing her had no regard for his need for control.

  “Spend enough time with animals and they start talking.” He laughed halfheartedly. “Makes me sound crazy, I know.”

  “No, I know exactly what you mean. I just had never put words to the practice before.”

  She shook out her hair, and the sun sent dashes of gold streaming through the strands falling near her face.

  If he spoke the words warring in his mind right then, she’d likely be shocked. Kissing her was one thing, but taking their physical relationship to that of lovers? Now that he knew her better, she didn’t strike him as a woman who would cross casually into that territory.

  “I spent some time with Monty Roberts,” he said, fighting for more familiar ground. “Have you heard of him?”

  “Only that the Queen of England presented awards to polo trainers who had used his methods to train their ponies.”

  “I didn’t know about that.”

  “It was some years ago. I wanted to meet him, but he never came to Italy.”

  “Monty was originally a rodeo guy. But what changed him were the years he spent watching wild mustangs.”

  “I’ve had some experiences like those you speak of.” Zoe took up a handful of sand and watched as it trailed through her fingers. “I’ve often thought they were the closest I’ve ever come to knowing magic.”

  “The real magic isn’t in taming the wild, it’s in entering the wild world, body and soul.”

  “Body and soul.” She stopped moving. “Entering the wild...”

  A buzz of self-consciousness zipped through him when she repeated his words.

  He picked up a rock that had fallen from the cliff behind them and threw it toward the shoreline. It landed two feet short of the mark he’d intended to hit. In his peripheral vision he saw her get up and walk over to where the horses were tethered.

  It really was time to go. If he sat there any longer, he’d be baring his soul—if he had one. Some days he wasn’t so sure.

  They rode along the tideline, silently at first. But the hundreds of questions he’d wanted to ask her burned in his mind.

  “Are you enjoying learning about the business of making wine?” Asking about viniculture seemed a safe start.

  “Some days I can imagine that— Oh, look!” She broke off and pointed into the waves.

  He squinted into the glare of the near-setting sun. A seal bobbed up out of the waves, its huge dark eyes trained on them.

  “It’s an elephant seal,” he said. “Jackie has several in rehab at the rescue center in Sausalito.”

  “I can see where they got the name. I’ve never seen a seal that big.”

  The seal dove below the surface. “Adults can grow to be four thousand pounds.”

  She studied the waves.

  “They can also hold their breath for twenty minutes,” he said, trying not to stare at the way she tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth when she was concentrating. In such a sophisticated woman, the simple habit was surprising. And endearing. It also fired up every urge in his body. “He’s likely long gone from here.”

  “There are so many wild creatures on this coast. Even the sea seems wilder here. It’s stunning.”

  Not as stunning as she was. To keep his mind off his urges, he repeated his question. “Do you enjoy the wine business?”

  “I wish I could say yes. I should be able to say yes. But no. My brothers love it. Anastasia seems to love it. But it’s not for me. And
if I have to spend hours in front of a computer like my father does, I’ll go crazy.”

  “He does the accounts?” The practice struck Cody as odd; usually a CEO handed those duties off to a professional.

  “Not just accounts. He does some sort of data programming.” She sighed. “I don’t know what he does exactly. And lately he’s been acting strangely, taking off without telling any of us where he’s going. Just last week he went to Russia! He told me he’d gone to London, but I discovered otherwise.” She fingered the dainty gold necklace around her neck. “I thought at first his strange behavior was due to grief over my mother; well, that and the challenge of adjusting to a new home. A new country.” She reined up and turned to face him. “We’ve all had a tough time adjusting. In my heart, I don’t think the move was such a good idea. In Italy we were a family, everybody had their role, their place. I miss those days—more than I knew I could miss anything.”

  The hushed sounds of the waves meeting the shore seemed to echo the tinge of sadness in her voice.

  He considered her words, but more than that, he thought about what she hadn’t said.

  “What do you love, Zoe? What makes you want to get out of bed every morning?”

  “I thought I knew,” she said, letting out a sad-sounding sigh that made him sorry he’d asked. “I thought it was polo. For most of my life, training horses and winning matches was nearly all I thought about. But since the move, I just feel... lost.”

  They’d reached the parking lot.

  They dismounted and unsaddled the horses. She handed him a brush from the shelf of the trailer.

  “Just give him a quick brush off. My grooms will wash him down properly when I return to the stables.”

  He noticed that she didn’t say home. Not even the name of the place. He knew what it felt like to be awash in a figurative sea, to feel like no place was home. Baseball had saved him from feeling adrift and homeless.

  As they drove back to Alana and Matt’s, Cody pointed out some of the geological sites including the San Andreas Fault. He told her that where any two systems meet, just like the fault, great energies collide and whatever the force of their meeting, there was often no predicting what the results might be. She’d glanced over at him with a wry smile and he’d felt like a friggin’ idiot. Maybe Scotty’s cosmology ramblings were rubbing off on him. Whatever the source, it sure wasn’t very good small talk.

  When they reached the ranch, she dropped him off at his truck.

  “Thank you, Cody. Today was the best day I’ve had since I came here.”

  She brushed a quick kiss to his cheek that made his heart race. He started to reach for her, but she smiled and jumped back into her pickup.

  He rubbed at his cheek and watched as she deftly maneuvered the trailer down to the parking lot next to the frantoio. Perhaps his suspicions had been right. Maybe in spite of the signals he’d read, she wasn’t interested in a full-on sexual hookup. A few kisses, yes, but not more than that. Not with him anyway. Maybe she had a boyfriend back in Italy.

  Whatever the reasons for her putting him off, he couldn’t ignore the devilish voice that urged him to do whatever it took to get to know her better.

  On his drive back to San Francisco, he got to thinking about what Zoe had said about her dad. Having a spy for a father had made Cody more suspicious than he cared to be. But as he crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, still piecing together the comments she’d made, the voice he trusted nagged at the back of his mind.

  Just about every aspect of Zoe tugged at him. And if he were to be honest, the Tavonesi clan and their close relationships had called up a disturbing longing he’d never known—a wish that he had a tight, loving family that had each other’s backs.

  His sister’s plea that he give reconciliation a chance had hounded him. He’d let his anger drive him for so long that love of any sort seemed like a mostly forgotten dream. He’d become accustomed to his self-imposed exile. If it hadn’t been for Zoe stirring him in deep places he thought he’d successfully abandoned, he might’ve gone on for years comfortably forgetting the richness of the love he’d known before things had gone so very wrong. Maybe Kat was right. Maybe it was time to mend some of his own fences.

  When he got home, he texted his brother and told him he’d ride in the rodeo. Talking about his rodeo days with Zoe had rekindled his love for the broncs. Hell, being around her had rekindled so much more than that.

  He typed out a text to Zoe and told her he’d be out of town for a while. He also invited her to join him at Ryan and Cara’s place the next week. The afternoon was originally supposed to be just the guys doing hard-core batting practice, but Jackie, Alex’s wife, had decided to join them, as had Scotty’s wife, Chloe. The occasion was a perfect opportunity to hang with Zoe. His teammates’ wives could relate to Zoe—especially Cara and Jackie. Cara was an heiress who came from the high life and yet had settled down in Albion Bay with Ryan. Cody didn’t want to cop to the fact that Cara not considering Ryan’s working-class roots an impediment to their relationship had probably played a role in Cody’s invitation to Zoe.

  He stared at the text on the screen and then clicked off his phone. He was scheming. Plotting. And what the hell was he doing thinking about impediments to long-term relationships? He hadn’t even had a short-term girlfriend in the past three years. Life in the minors had pretty much eaten up his focus and his time. He’d settled for brief hook-ups that never got in the way of his game.

  His desire to steal a few more moments alone with Zoe had him clicking on his phone. He sent the text. He stared at the screen and told himself that no matter what came of the afternoon, the practice in Ryan’s batting cage would improve his game.

  But for the first time in a long time, baseball wasn’t the primary force driving his actions.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cody made his way down the cinderblock hallway of the Clark Fork Arena. Missoula had larger, more modern venues, but the classic arena was well suited to the down-home event Dylan had worked himself nearly dead to pull off. Though Kat couldn’t come, she’d made sure to fill Cody’s ears with news of every detail.

  There was no mistaking the smells of a rodeo. Hay and dung and hairspray—the latter from the many teased-up hairdos of the female spectators. Rodeo gals. They were as in love with the sport as were their flannel-shirted, blue-jean-clad, Stetson-hatted husbands.

  “You’re late,” Dylan said, crossing the men’s locker room in two long strides.

  “Didn’t know Missoula had so much traffic,” Cody said.

  Dylan clapped Cody on the back. “You’ve been away a piece—we have cars now too.”

  Cody was glad for the weak joke. What exactly he’d planned to say to his brother after not seeing him for so many years, he wasn’t sure.

  “Having you here is like having a new start,” Dylan said.

  Then Dylan hugged him. Hugged him. Enveloped him in a great, bear-like embrace. Cody patted Dylan’s back and eased a step away.

  “It’s good to be here,” Cody said, fighting the conflicting feelings fisting a wad of tension in his belly. The simple in and out visit he’d planned wasn’t feeling so simple anymore.

  “I bet.” Dylan retrieved a canvas bag that held the first aid kit from a nearby locker. “You up for arena duty? I’m short a medic.”

  “Sure,” Cody said. He’d come to help in any way he could. But it’d been years since he’d taped up bronc and bull riders, or in the worst scenario, kept them from moving while they waited for the EMTs and then helped to slide the injured riders onto stretchers. “But I might be a bit rusty on the procedures,” he said honestly.

  “I doubt it. And Doc Raymond will be out there with you. It’ll all come back.”

  Raymond had been doctoring rodeo contestants for as long as Cody could remember.

  “The women’s event is already in full swing.” Dylan handed him the canvas bag. “There’ll be a short break, and then your event’s right after. And don’t mind the
camera crews. I don’t have to tell you that they’re here to see you.”

  A young woman with a clipboard raced into the room and up to Dylan.

  “Mrs. McCormack’s here. We didn’t have her on the list. Of course we let her into the VIP area.” She clutched Dylan’s arm. “Make sure to get her to come to the reception. She could fund our whole program if she’s inclined.”

  Cody didn’t miss her emphasis on the word our or the woman’s intimate manner with his brother. Maybe Dylan’s life was looking up more than Kat had let on.

  “This is Mary Drake,” Dylan said, giving the woman’s hand a gentle pat. “She put this fundraiser together. Mary, this is my brother, Cody.”

  “Like I don’t recognize our star,” she said with a beaming smile as she held out her hand to shake Cody’s. “Dylan gives me too much credit. He’s the one who came up with this event and went to heroic efforts to make it a reality. We have thirty-seven kids in the therapeutic riding program now. Tonight’s success will keep us going for another year.” She put her hand to the headset projecting from her ear, cupping it as her eyes went wide. “God, Ellis Brayton just arrived! He and Mrs. McCormack are like oil and water. I need to run interference.” She dashed off, not even bothering to wave goodbye. But from the way Dylan’s eyes followed Mary, Cody knew there was deep affection between the two. His baby brother had grown up in more ways than one while he’d been away.

  “We’d better head out there,” Dylan said. “I’m not sure which is harder, riding broncs or dealing with the deep-pocket donors that Mary lassoed into coming tonight.”

  Cody knew his brother would rather ride a bronc any day. God knew he would. Mrs. McCormack had never come to a rodeo, not even when her rebellious daughter won the women’s finals six years ago. He remembered that night better than he wanted to.

  “See you on the other side,” Dylan said. He started to walk out of the locker room and then turned. “Thanks for coming, Cody. And not just for what your name meant for selling out this shindig. Having you here”—he raked a hand through his hair—“well... it means more than you might know.”