He glanced at Heather. “He ignores Coach. Talks shit behind his back even. We wanted to give the kid a good knock off his high horse in preseason, but it’s only a couple of days until their first game on Thursday night, not much of a chance that’ll happen.”
Luke and Heather continued to debate the best handling of “Thumbs,” while Katie scraped the recesses of her brain, trying to recall Malone with more detail. Malone. Yes. Okay. He’d played ball at the University of Texas, like Luke, but years later, of course.
She would have thought that would have built a common bond. Then again, Luke was, no doubt, legendary at UT. The ones who left and became stars always were. Maybe Malone felt he was walking in Luke’s shadow then and now. Maybe Malone wanted Luke off the team, so he was trying to screw with Luke’s game.
“Yes,” Luke said quietly, kneeling before her again. “I’ve considered what you are thinking.”
She focused on Luke and nodded. They had a solid suspect in Malone. That felt like a positive thing.
“Speaking of Malone,” Rick said, as he and Conn joined them under the shade. “Thumbs is talking so much crap,” Rick said, sitting down next to Libby, “his tongue is going to swell right along with his head.”
Heather slapped her hands on her lap. “See what I mean?” she exclaimed, casting Katie a helpless look. “They call him that name, and he gets more fired up.”
Conn popped open a beer and motioned to Luke. “He says you’re cheating.”
Luke laughed, ignoring Heather, as did Conn and Rick. “How do you cheat at horseshoes?”
“Same way every call I make caused him to throw balls, I guess,” Conn said. “And he wonders why I say UT hasn’t picked a good pitcher since Luke.”
Katie cringed. No wonder Luke and Malone didn’t share a school bond.
Libby straightened and added, “It wouldn’t hurt you to be a bit more humble, Luke.”
“It’s backyard horseshoes and beer, Libby,” Luke said drily. “Egging each other on is part of the fun.”
Rick laughed. “Here, here,” he agreed, raising his beer in a toast.
“I’m not talking about horseshoes in the backyard,” Libby said. “I’m talking in general.”
Conn gaped. “Luke’s the most humble guy I know.”
Rick made a growling sound near Libby’s ear. “Down, girl. No biting in the backyard. Save that for the bedroom.”
Heather almost choked on her drink. “Rick!”
Katie gaped.
Coach Bradshaw, a tall man with gray hair, broad shoulders and tough, chiseled features, strolled up to join them. “Going for four, Luke?” he asked, referring to the three horseshoe games Luke had already won that day.
Luke pushed to his feet, but his hand remained possessively on Katie’s shoulder. “I never speculate, Coach, you know that.”
Libby snorted, as if something about Luke’s words disgusted her.
“Knock it off, Libby,” Rick reprimanded sharply.
“He’s getting old,” came a male voice. “But then that’s why they pulled me in to close up the games all nice and tidy for him.”
Katie looked up to find Malone standing there—tall, dark, younger than Rick, and ten pounds lighter. Something about the man scraped down her nerve endings and set her on edge.
“You better close and close well,” Luke said, pushing to his feet and snatching a beer from a cooler. “That’s why they call this a team. We win together.” He tipped his can back. “Stop throwing blame and start throwing some heat. That’s the point we’ve been singing at ya, man, but you keep tuning us out.”
“Luke’s right, kid,” Coach said. “I have a rotation to fill, and I expect every one of you to be the best.”
“Coach,” yelled one of the players from the sliding glass door. “That PR lady is here to see you.”
“Today is not the day to deal with her.” He grumbled to his wife, shaking his head. “Why did management have to hire this woman?”
Heather squeezed his hand, and they exchanged a look. “They’re heading off problems,” she said in a voice that indicated this wasn’t her first time to say the words.
“About me,” Luke claimed. “Go ahead. Say it. We all know it.”
“Yeah,” Malone said. “Be nice to make the news about playing ball. Not about Luke’s vastly dysfunctional social life.”
“Shut up, Malone,” Rick spouted.
“Yeah,” Coach said roughly. “Shut up, kid.” He glanced at Luke. “Don’t let any of this get to you, Luke. You’re not the only reason management hired PR support. There’s plenty of players mustering up bad press. And most of them create it themselves. You couldn’t help yours.” He glanced at Malone. “Those of us who were actually here know that.”
Malone snorted. “Since when is choosing the wrong bedmate not his fault?”
Katie didn’t consider that remark might be aimed at her. She wrapped her hand around Luke’s arm, silently offering support. Now she knew what Luke meant when he said arrogance was something people hid behind. Unfortunately, she had a feeling there was a whole lot of nasty insecurity underneath Malone’s arrogance, the kind that festered and became poison.
“Coach?” the player at the door questioned. “What do I do?”
Coach grunted and waved toward the door. “Keep that woman inside,” he yelled. “I’ll be right in.” He lowered his voice, scrubbing his jaw as he spoke to his wife. “She distracts the players and not much else.” His gaze lifted and caught. “Oh, hell, too late. Here she comes.”
Katie looked up to find Olivia crossing the lawn, her skirt almost as high as her four-inch spike heels, enough thigh showing to be R-rated. Male eyes latched on to her, a murmuring of male comments rumbling through the air. But Olivia directed her attention one place and one place only. At Luke. Who, unlike the other guys, was not drooling. In fact, as before, he didn’t seem at all pleased to see Olivia. Olivia, however, Katie realized, appeared quite happy to see Luke, her eyes lighting on him, her lips lifting in a flirty smile.
Jealousy flared in Katie, her stomach tensing.
Reprimanding herself, Katie quickly squashed the feeling as ridiculous. She had no claim on Luke’s affections. None. It didn’t matter how much her feelings for him were growing. In fact, if he wanted Olivia, or anyone else for that matter, so be it. She was more than fine with that.
Self-satisfaction filled Katie, and she reveled in the knowledge that the self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy that her knee injury had created were behind her. Not Luke, or Olivia, or even the dull throb of her knee acting up could make her lose her way again.
Rick and Libby exchanged low, heated words, snapping Katie out of her reverie.
“Enough, Libby,” Rick ordered tersely.
Suddenly, Libby was on her feet, and then she did the unthinkable—she burst into tears in front of everyone. “It’s not enough,” she yelled at him. “That’s the point. I am never enough for you.” She started running toward the house.
Katie’s mouth dropped. Libby was clearly not a stable person.
“Oh, hell,” Rick muttered under his breath, and eyed Heather for help.
Heather held up her hands. “Don’t look at me. I’m not going after her. This gets older and older every time.”
Luke shook his head. “Man, why do you mess with her?”
Rick ran a rough hand over his head. “What can I say?” he said. “She’s like crack. A bad high I can’t seem to get enough of.”
“That’s going to make you self-destruct,” Luke warned.
Katie sighed. “I’ll go after her.”
Luke looked surprised. “You sure about that?” he asked.
She lowered her voice purposely. “I think it would be good for me to get to know her.” They exchanged a look of understanding. Libby was climbing her way up the Luke-obsessed suspect list. Katie needed to understand what was going on in that woman’s head.
Luke reluctantly nodded. “Watch your back with her.”
“Looks like we have some potential bad press to discuss about your present dating habits,” Olivia commented sarcastically. She glanced at Libby’s departing form, disapproval etched in her perfectly painted features. “What happens when she does this kind of thing in front of a reporter?”
“On second thought,” Luke murmured to Katie. “Maybe I should go with you to check on Libby.”
She shook her head and laughed. “You’re staying,” she ordered and squeezed his hand. “Let the power of the force be with you, Yoda.”
THE BATHROOM SEEMED the logical place for a crying female to go. Katie had dealt with her sister enough to know the drill. Though not at first glance, it was now clear Libby had some of Carrie’s traits; namely, and most obviously, a selfish need for attention.
As she made her way through the country-style, multi storied house, Katie wished she had asked where the closest bathroom could be found. There were rooms upstairs, rooms downstairs, rooms on the main level. She was left guessing which way would be the right way, and she decided up seemed likely.
Upstairs was dark but that didn’t deter Katie. The compact purse she had strapped across her chest had a cell phone and a small handgun. Not that she would readily consider whipping out a weapon, here or anywhere for that matter, but it was comforting to know it was resting by her side, ready for use.
As her eyes adjusted, she began checking several doorways, including that of a spare bathroom, finding no sign of Libby. She was about to switch directions when a shattering sound echoed through the silence, seeming to come from the door at the end of the hallway. Following the noise, her hand instinctively on her purse, Katie pursued the sound down the corridor and entered a massive bedroom, with fancy antique-looking furniture and expensive paintings. A quick scan indicated she was alone, so Katie proceeded toward the entrance to the bathroom.
Peering cautiously through the doorway, she found flower buds among broken glass in the middle of the black-tiled floor. Glass chunks had splattered around the room in a wide enough range to indicate the vase had hit the ground hard, clearly thrown. At least, that was Katie’s best guess. Seemed a good indicator that Libby had been here, considering her volatile departure from the backyard.
Whoever was responsible had exited the door on the opposite side of the room, through a second door that appeared to join a smaller room lined with bookcases. Katie had walked toward the vase, intending to pick it up so no one would get hurt, when the door slammed behind her. She jumped and whirled toward the door. Reaching for the knob and pulling, she found it was locked. Her eyes went to the lock. It was on the inside. That meant someone had jammed the door from the outside.
She leaned against the door trying to think, keeping the opposite entrance in sight. She considered calling Luke’s cell, but she didn’t want him to freak out and somehow alert people of a problem that could snowball into telling them all about his stalker.
This had to be Libby. The woman didn’t have much concept of public appropriateness, and she was possibly still hung up on Luke. It meant she probably felt threatened by Katie. The idea of Libby writing those letters was easy to conceive.
A loud thump hit the door directly behind her, making her jump and whirl to face the sound. Immediately she looked over her shoulder at the other door, and called, “Who’s there? Libby? Libby, I wanted to talk to you. That’s all.”
A long silence.
She leaned against the wall, trying to keep both entrances in sight, looking from one to the other, nerves jumping around in her stomach.
Libby, or someone else, was outside one of the doors—but which one?
The silence ended with a hushed whisper that wasn’t clearly male or female. “Go away, bitch. We don’t like you here.”
Goose bumps surfaced on her skin. There was something about the presence…a real darkness that didn’t quite fit Libby. Whoever this was didn’t play games.
Willing herself to get a grip, she took a deep, calming breath. Okay, that was it. She unzipped her purse and had snagged her cell phone when Luke’s voice lifted in the air. “Katie?”
In a flash of movement, she was pounding on the wooden surface, calling his name. “Luke! In here! I’m in here!”
“What in the hell?” she heard him mutter, feeling relief just hearing his voice again, knowing he had heard her. “Katie?”
“Yeah,” she called through the door, trying to sound calm. “Get me the hell out of here, will you?”
Moments later the door opened, and Katie launched herself at the opening. Luke caught her arms, facing her. “What’s going on?”
She looked over his shoulder. “Did you see anyone when you came down the hall?”
Concern etched his features. “No one,” he said. “When Libby returned and you didn’t, I came looking for you. Someone stuck a hanger in the lock of the door. What happened?”
“Was anyone else missing from the backyard?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
She pressed her hand to her head, trying to think of anything of use. “I don’t know what happened exactly. Someone locked me inside. They told me to get away and stay away. The question is—do they want me gone because I’m supposed to be dating you or because they know who I really am? And before you ask, no, I didn’t recognize the voice. It was muffled.”
“Male or female?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He pulled her close and kissed her. When he stopped, he looked into her eyes. “Katie. I never meant to put you in danger.” He seemed shaken. “What if I am putting other people in danger? What if… Maybe I shouldn’t be traveling with the team.”
She pressed her hand to his face. “It might come to that,” she said reluctantly, “but we’re not there yet. You pitch that great season you’re after. Let me and my team make this go away. If we can’t or if things get worse, then and only then will we talk about you taking some time off. Now, let’s go back down to the party where we belong.”
He drew her hand from his cheek to his lips. “I say we get the hell out of here,” he said. “Go find our own afternoon diversion.”
As tempting as his offer sounded, Katie had to consider the psychological profile of this person with her team. The safest thing in her mind was to go on with the rest of the party as if all was normal. She didn’t want to send this person running for the hills where they couldn’t catch him or her. Nor did she want to set off anger that turned to violence.
She pressed her lips to his. Then, “We aren’t being run off from the party any more than you are the mound. Not if I have any say-so in the matter.”
His eyes lit and turned dark, his voice raspy, affected. His hand slid over her lower back, molding her close. “Have I told you I’m crazy about you?”
She smiled. “Mostly you’ve told me I make you crazy.”
“That, too,” he said. “But I like crazy. I like crazy one hell of a lot.”
So did she. And though she knew there were all kinds of reasons she shouldn’t, she couldn’t think of one of them right here and now.
When finally they headed back to the party, Katie reported the broken vase to Heather, who charged toward the house to inspect the damage. Katie sat down in a lawn chair as Luke went back to his horseshoes, and she inventoried what she’d learned. Jessica wasn’t at the party, which all but eliminated her from the suspect list, assuming the bathroom encounter had been with the stalker. Olivia had been in the backyard talking with Rick so that pretty much ruled out both of them. Ron wasn’t even present to be considered as a suspect, not that she’d ever really considered him. He was a heavy-handed manager and a manipulator, but she doubted he was behind the letters. As for the agent trying to connect with Luke at the charity benefit—turned out to have an excuse to be there besides stalking Luke. Sadly, he had a sister with leukemia. Libby, on the other hand, was concerning in all kinds of ways. And she’d disappeared without saying goodbye to anyone. She was volatile, illogical.
Libby had become her prime suspect—at least for locking her in the bathroom. There was always the chance that there was no connection between what had happened in that bathroom and the letters. An unlikely chance, but still a chance. Katie glanced at Luke and realized she was no closer to figuring out who was threatening him, but there was one thing she was closer to—and that was falling for Luke. He was the one making her crazy.
IT WAS close to ten that same night, and Katie had been at the kitchen table with Josh and Noah, reviewing Luke’s file and talking through security plans for several hours, when Luke quietly snuck into the kitchen and snatched a bottle of water. He wore sweats and a snug T-shirt, and had sexy, masculine stubble brushing his jaw.
His gaze slid to Katie’s as if he sensed she was watching him. Instant awareness crackled between them, his eyes lingering on hers before he silently slipped out of the room.
Katie quickly cut her gaze back to the file, delicately clearing her throat. “Okay, so tomorrow the new security system arrives and—”
“At least your cover’s going to be believable,” Noah said quietly.
Katie looked up to find them both staring at her. “What?”
“You and Luke. We aren’t stupid, Katie. We can see you two have something going on.”
Her first reaction was denial, but Katie squashed it. Noah and Josh were too smart for that. “It’s unprofessional,” she said. “I know, and—”
“You’re afraid it’s a distraction,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Fighting anything as obvious as what you two have, while you try and play boyfriend and girlfriend,” Noah said. “That’s a distraction. Use it, Katie. Make it work for you. Use the insight to Luke to find this person who’s turning his life upside down.” He pushed to his feet, leaving her to the files and her own thoughts.
Josh stood, as well, and then grinned. “Do your part to keep that man focused on something other than the letters so he can get on that mound and fire away.”
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