Love of the Game

by Lori Wilde

  She swallowed, shifted away from his touch. Too much. It was too much. He was too much. “Emma’s handicap doesn’t make me love her any less. In fact, I might love her even more because of it. The minute I looked into her face, I felt a connection unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. Axel, she’s a part of me.”

  “That’s a lot to hold inside for seven weeks.”

  Kasha rubbed a palm over her mouth. “It’s a relief to say it to someone. Thanks for letting me rehearse with you. I think it’s going to be easier now to tell my parents.”

  “Glad I could be of service. If you want to talk more.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal, and his eyes cradled her as if she were a rare and delicate glass. “I’ve got one good shoulder if you need to lean on it.”

  She smiled helplessly. Oh, he was a charmer. “Thank you for that.”

  “So …” He patted his left shoulder. “Go ahead, let it out.”

  “I’m petitioning the court for custody of her,” she blurted, startling herself. What was it about him that made her want to confess everything?

  Axel’s eyes widened. “Big step.”

  “It’s why I need this job so badly. I’m still paying off school loans, and the pay is double what I was making in my previous job. Plus the health insurance is the best there is, and while Emma does get Medicaid, she’s got a lot of health issues and I want to make sure she’ll get the best health care money can buy.”

  “I get that.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, tried to imagine what he must have gone through with his sick child. He probably understood what she was facing more than she did.

  “You’re strong,” he said.

  “So are you.” She heard the admiration in her voice, recognized how much she respected him. He was a good guy.

  “Emma’s lucky to have you.”

  “No, I’m lucky to have her. She’s incredible, so sweet, and innocent. She makes me feel …” Kasha paused, trying to decide how to name her feelings. “Important. Needed. She gives me a sense of purpose.”

  “I get that.” The tilt of his head, the angle of his eyebrows told her that for whatever reason, he did understand.

  “Every time Emma sees me she gets a big smile on her face.” At the thought of Emma’s dear face, Kasha couldn’t contain her own huge grin. “She can’t make the sound ‘s,’ so she calls me her ‘titter.’ It’s so cute.”

  “You sound like you’re in love.”

  “I am.” Kasha pressed both hands over her heart. “She is an amazing girl, although I should say young woman. She’s twenty-three.”

  “What is her mental age?” Axel asked.

  It was a legitimate question, but it made Kasha feel defensive, and she had to wonder about her feelings. Emma had mental challenges, true, but Kasha didn’t want her sister pigeonholed by a number. “She reads on a third-grade level.”

  “So it will be like having an eight-year-old for the rest of your life.”

  Kasha could feel herself bristle. Nothing about Axel’s expression or his body language suggested he meant anything negative by the comment, but she couldn’t help feeling resentful. Emma was an incredible human being no matter what her capabilities.

  “Yes,” Kasha said. “And I’m fully prepared to accept that responsibility.”

  Axel looked at her with such respect and admiration it immediately dissolved her defensiveness. He was on her side. Her heart fluttered, and she dropped her hands.

  “Do you have any idea how amazing you are?”

  “I’m not amazing at all,” she protested. “I never expected to feel so overwhelmed by love, but I am.”

  “You’re a good person, Kasha Carlyle.” His eyes were as tender as a whisper. “I’m honored you shared that with me.”

  “I don’t know why I did.” Feeling self-conscious and hating it, she lowered her eyelashes. “Maybe I was using you as practice. I have to tell my parents about her tonight. I’ve put it off as long as possible. I’m picking Emma up tomorrow. I have her for the weekend and it’s my first time having her stay with me overnight.”

  Suddenly, she was acutely aware of just how alone they were. She noticed that he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and had a sexy stubble thing going on. Her nostrils flared on the scent of coconut massage oil mixed with his heady masculine fragrance.

  Compelled by a force that she could neither explain nor resist, her gaze was drawn to the shape of his mouth—perfect color, shape, and size.

  Kiss-worthy lips.

  A vivid image of kissing him flashed in her head, and she could almost feel his mouth on hers. Moist. Weighted. Delicious.

  Twin spots of heat burned at the backs of her knees, spread quickly up her thighs. Alarmed by her wayward thoughts and feelings, Kasha turned away and started putting away supplies and equipment.

  Axel joined in.

  “I’ve got this,” she said. “You’re the patient. You rest.”

  “I’m not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you slave away.”

  “Breaking down a massage table is hardly slave labor.”

  “Sphinx, I’m used to being part of a team, helping out. For now, we’re a team, and I’m not letting you carry the load alone, so get over it.”

  It wasn’t her independence or need to be in control that wanted him to back off. Rather, it was this ridiculous attraction she felt whenever she was near him.

  “Please,” she said, trying not to sound desperate. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you go take a shower while I finish up?”

  “Nope,” he said cheerfully, nudging her out of the way so he could break down the massage table. His hip against hers was electric, and it was all she could do not to gasp at the contact.

  She started to argue with him, but decided to let it go. He was standing too darn close and she stepped back. “Don’t hurt your shoulder.”

  “I won’t.”

  She pressed her fingertips together, tried not to fret, and mumbled, “Cocky.”

  “I heard that.” He finished folding the table, propped it against the wall, and turned to her with a laser beam grin.

  Why did he have to be so pulse-jerkingly handsome?

  “You’re just one big ear.”

  “I do have great hearing.”

  “Must be annoying when you’re playing baseball.”

  “I block all that out when I’m on the mound.”

  “Oh yeah, so you said,” she murmured, and still avoiding his gaze, looked out the glass wall of the gym to the pool.

  Looking at the pool made her remember the day she’d fallen in, and that made her remember the close quarters of the bathroom, and how close his hot lips had been to hers. Absentmindedly, she reached up to touch the scrape at her temple that was nearly healed.

  “Kasha.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Look at me.”

  No. Don’t wanna.

  But Kasha wasn’t a coward. She raised her chin, gave him her coolest noncommittal stare, and got tangled up inside those spectacular dark eyes.

  “Go to lunch with me,” he said.

  “What?” she mumbled, so mesmerized by him that she was only vaguely aware that he’d spoken.

  “The Creedys are out of town for the holiday weekend, and I’m a horrible cook. There’s a good chance I’ll die of food poisoning if left to my own devices.”

  Absolutely not. That’s what she should have said. She was in enough hot water being his therapist, much less socializing with him.

  Instead, she hesitated.

  He took her hesitation as a yes. “Great. I’ll shower and change and grab my car keys and you can take me to the best place in town.”

  Say no.

  But then she thought, hey, at least in town, at a restaurant, they wouldn’t be alone. And the way lust bombarded her every time she saw, touched, heard, or smelled him, that was a good thing.

  “Okay,” she mumbled. “But this isn’t a date.”

  “Of course not.” He blink
ed at her as if that was the silliest thing he’d ever heard, and then she felt embarrassed for having said it.

  “Go shower,” she said, pointing at the door. “I’ll finish up here and then be waiting for you at my car. I’m driving. No discussion.”

  His grin cracked open as if he was a fisherman who’d just reeled in the catch of a lifetime.

  Nervously, she reached for the coconut-scented massage oil, meaning to cap it, but the outside of the bottle was slippery and it fell from her hands, spilling oil all over the front of her clothes. It drenched the entire room in the smell of the tropics, and had her thinking of palm trees and umbrella drinks and Axel in a Speedo.

  Heat that started at the backs of her knees rose all the way to the nape of her neck.

  Frig, she was covered in massage oil and all she could think about was having sex with him.

  “Hang on.” He grabbed for paper towels from the sink, and moved toward her as if he was going to start dabbing her.

  She snatched the paper towels from him. “I’ve got this. Go.”

  “But you’re covered in oil.”

  “I keep a change of clothes in the trunk of my car.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. His smile was sly. And everything inside her ached and hummed. “You can have the downstairs bathroom. I’ll shower upstairs.”

  “Great.” She made shooing motions with one hand as she dabbed at the oil on the front of her chest with the other. And realized belatedly that the oil made her nipple visible through her shirt.

  And that he’d already seen it.

  “Go.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His dangerously handsome eyes danced, amused.

  Her body responded, going soft and warm and wet and treacherous. As she watched him walk away, she couldn’t help wondering how she was going to survive another two weeks without breaking every rule in the book.

  CHAPTER 11

  When Axel came out of the house to find Kasha standing beside her green Prius, he smiled a proud, hit-the-jackpot smile, slightly self-conscious about how happy he was, like some Hallmark greeting card prince on one knee, clasping a glass slipper in his hand, a sappy sentiment written in scroll script: We fit!

  Because that was how he felt.

  Joined. Connected. He and Kasha fit like a lock and key.

  She was amazing. A grounded, logical woman who took life with a steady, unwavering gait, and stole his breath with those soulful dark eyes.

  Important to an intensely ambitious guy who’d spent much of his clueless life blundering around as if he were a china-closet bull.

  She wore a billowy white shirt that rippled over her skin like water whenever the wind blew. It was belted at the waist with a wide gold snakeskin-print belt, and the material was so gauzy, he could see the white camisole she had on beneath.

  Yellow skinny jeans hugged her long legs, showing off the curve of her calves, the slim taper to her ankles, and her long, lush, almost-black hair was done up in a single braid that hit her mid-back.

  Her lips were the color of raspberry stains, sweet and darkly bright. She looked like a regal bird peering down from a lofty perch, contained in her distance, high, serene, supreme.

  She was so incredibly beautiful, and he ached for her. Wanted her. Intensely. Desperately. Shockingly.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms and plant hot kisses all over her gorgeous face. Wanted to coax a smile from her, trace his tongue along that brilliant mouth.

  She was so strong, so resolute, so damn determined not to let anyone see what lurked beneath—fear, longing, vulnerability. She was so hauntingly vulnerable, but it took an observant eye to see it past her tall stature, enigmatic dark eyes, and proud chin.

  She’d been brave for so long. She didn’t know how to put down her shield and look around to see that she was safe. She needed to accept herself and that hot fire of passion she struggled so hard to deny.

  Why? Why did she fight so hard to keep from being who she was?

  “We’re going to the Honeysuckle Café,” she said. “They serve out-of-this-world veggies, and if you’re so inclined, the chicken-fried steak is their best seller.”

  “Okay.” He walked around to the passenger side door. “Not a date.”

  “I do have to warn you about one thing,” she said as they climbed into the car.

  “What’s that?”

  “The Honeysuckle Café is inside Timeless Treasures, my parents’ antiques store.”

  “You’re taking me to meet the parents? A bit soon, isn’t it?” he teased. “This is our first date, after all.”

  She gave him a don’t-go-there-or-I’ll-put-you-out-of-the-car stare. “It’s not a date and if you’re going to insist on calling it a date I’m not leaving the driveway.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just FYI, Dad’s a huge baseball nut. He was over the moon when my sisters married major league players. And he’ll talk your ear off about it. He and his brothers played minor league ball when they were young.”

  “I love talking about baseball.”

  “We’re here,” she announced a couple of minutes later, parking at the curb outside a converted Victorian house on Main Street.

  Kasha led him into the antiques shop. Chimes tinkled as the door opened and closed, and they walked into a whoosh of scent—lavender mixed with the yellowed smell of old books, mixed with the tint of oil paintings, mixed with sweet earthiness of caramelized onions—and quaint vintageness—ornate highboys and beaded purses; lace tablecloths and spindly-legged chairs; gaudy glass jewelry and colorful cigar boxes; butter churns and copper kettles; ostrich feathers poking from tall wicker baskets, ruffling in the air of the overhead ceiling fan; a gold-framed movie poster from Gone with the Wind (Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn) covering part of a side wall. Frank Sinatra on a record player singing “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”

  A middle-aged man and woman were standing behind the checkout counter in the middle of a smooch. The man’s arms were around the woman’s waist, and she was looking up at him as if he was the center of the universe, apparently unconcerned whether anyone caught them in a romantic moment or not.

  Axel smiled. The couple reminded him of his parents, many wedding anniversaries marked, and still flagrantly in love.

  “Mom, Dad,” Kasha said. “This is Axel Richmond. Axel, these amorous folks are my parents, Dan and Maggie Carlyle.”

  Grinning sheepishly, the older couple broke apart and turned to face them.

  “Honey, Axel Richmond is the star pitcher for the Gunslingers. I know who he is,” Kasha’s father said. He wore a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of faded jeans.

  Maggie Carlyle’s cheeks pinked and she pushed back a strand of blond hair lightly tinged with gray from her forehead, offered him a beaming smile.

  “Axel.” Maggie Carlyle extended a hand. “Welcome to Timeless Treasures.”

  “Pleasure.” He shook first Maggie’s hand and then Dan’s. “Always nice to meet a fellow ballplayer, sir.”

  Dan waved a dismissive hand, but he grinned like a boy. “Nah, I only played bush league ball. You’re the real deal.”

  “Baseball is baseball,” Axel said. “It’s all for the love of the game.”

  “You got that right!” Dan bobbed his head as if Axel had said something profound.

  “It’s his deepest passion.” Maggie patted her husband’s chest and leaned against his side.

  “You’re my deepest passion,” Dan corrected, dropping a kiss on his wife’s upturned face. “But baseball is a close second.”

  “Almost upstaged by a white ball with red stitches.” Maggie laughed and hugged her husband hard. “At least you’re honest.”

  Axel glanced up to the open balcony of the second story, where books abounded. Along the balcony railing stretched a lethal-looking calico cat, her eyes narrowed to snooty slits, tail swishing rhythmically. “Um … y’all, I think that cat is about—”

 
Without looking up, everyone simultaneously jumped back. A second later the cat hit the counter, swung her head around, and looked disappointed that she hadn’t startled anyone. Twitching her tail, the calico strolled down the length of the counter before dropping to the floor, and eeling around Kasha’s legs.

  Kasha bent to pick the cat up. “You’re an ornery little puss, aren’t you, darling?” she cooed, and scratched the calico under the chin. The cat purred loudly. Kasha’s face softened as she stroked the kitty.

  “This is Callie,” she explained. “My sister Suki saved her from Hurricane Sandy when she was going to school at NYU. Now Callie is the store mascot.”

  “A scary mascot.” Axel eyed the railing where the calico had been sitting moments before.

  “The vet says she suffers from PTSD, and that’s why she drops down off the balcony onto people. It makes her feel secure and in control.”

  “Uh-huh.” Axel didn’t know about that diagnosis. To his way of thinking, the calico was in primal stalk mode, and scaring people was fun for her, but what did he know about cats?

  “We were headed to the Honeysuckle for lunch,” Kasha told her parents. She put Callie down on the floor and dusted her palms against her hips.

  “Enjoy your lunch,” Maggie said. “Nice meeting you, Axel. I hope we’ll be seeing more of you.”

  “Count on it,” he said, and his heart rejoiced when he saw a tiny smile edge up the corners of Kasha’s mouth, and realized that he felt better about the future than he had in a long time.

  “His shoulder rotation improved by a full millimeter. That means he’ll be staying at Rowdy’s ranch for two more weeks.” Kasha beamed.

  “Congratulations!” Maggie hugged her daughter. “Your new career has sprouted wings. I’m so proud of you.”

  “And congrats to you too.” Dan slapped Axel on the back. “You’ll be back on the mound before you know it. Our Kasha is a miracle worker.”

  Axel met Kasha’s eyes. “She’s unlike any therapist I’ve ever encountered.”

  She didn’t blush at the praise, or even offer up a smile. She stood calm, serene, full of positive self-esteem. She accepted her talent without ego. She knew who she was. He loved that about her.