by Jody Holford
She kept shooting him nervous glances, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Drawing his attention to it. Damn. He didn’t need to antagonize her, especially if he didn’t want her to get anywhere near the truth. What the hell was wellness management? Seeing as he’d just spent the weekend touching base with an old friend who happened to be in sports medicine, Sawyer could take care of his own wellness. Without the prying eyes of the team doctors or any of the management.
So what could this woman possibly want from him? He knew better than to delve too deep into that thought. The favors people had requested of him over the years were indescribable. And not just strangers. No. Mostly his family. He shook off the irritation thinking of his family brought on. His mother had auto-dialed him all weekend, driving him crazier than usual, nagging him about a party she wanted to throw. On his dime.
“Please say something,” Addie said, her voice almost timid. It didn’t seem to suit her personality.
People asking him for favors was as commonplace as breathing for him, so it shouldn’t bother him so much that this woman would do the same. He ran his hands through his hair, disappointment, frustration, and anger roiling around in his gut. If she worked for the Slammers and knew where he’d been over the last few days, she might plan to hold it over his head.
“What would you like me to say? You’ve asked for a favor but won’t tell me what it is. Am I supposed to agree to it blindly? All I want is to go home.” His knee had started throbbing about two hours ago, and he needed to ice it after swallowing down a few ibuprofen.
She took a deep breath, and the one she exhaled was shuddery. “Okay.”
Twisting his body, he stared at her. He hated games. Except for baseball, which was his life. When he was crouched behind home plate, everything else went away. “Okay? Okay, what? You have some major favor worth kidnapping me for but you’re willing to put it aside and drive me home?”
She winced. He needed to watch his tone. It felt like he couldn’t say anything to anyone without it being twisted and turned against him. The last woman he’d had longer than a five-minute conversation with had somehow misinterpreted him offering her a couple of tickets as wanting to sleep with her. Which she not only told to TMZ but to her husband, who took a swing at him when he was heading to his car one night. Sawyer hated the curiosity swirling in his gut. He didn’t need to be intrigued by this woman who, in a short car ride, had shown multiple sides of herself: confident, sexy, professional, insecure. Which one was real?
Her eyes locked on his and his chest tightened. She had gorgeous eyes. Vivid blue. Almost so bright it was tough to look at them but impossible to look away. But it had been a long time since he’d let a pair of eyes, or any other part of a woman, sway him. He was older and wiser. Supposedly.
“I’ll take you home if, after I tell you my favor, you ask me to,” she said. The spunk and enthusiasm had gone out of her voice.
Going for nonchalant, he rested a hand on the dash and gave her the same look he gave reporters who asked stupid questions. It looks like your knee was impacting your play tonight. Do you feel the pressure to perform every night or is it okay to be off, like you were? Will you be able to play if the Slammers finally make it to the playoffs? How will it feel if you miss out on something the team has been working toward for years? At your age, how does an injury impact your position?
He rolled his shoulders, the back of his neck prickling. “Get to it.”
His skin crawled with nerves over what she might ask. A woman once waited for him at his car, shirtless, asking him to sign her breasts. Hard no. Another had followed him home and asked to be invited in. Another pass. When he went to bars with the team, not that he did often, women tossed themselves at him. At twenty-two, that had been amazing. Ten years later, it was wearing thin. Especially when every damn time he turned around, a new story was being spun about him.
He sighed. “Tell me your favor.”
“There is an annual MS charity event tonight. I had someone else lined up. A celebrity who owed one of the Slammers players a favor. He backed out at the last minute. I thought I could ask one of the other guys, but they’re not back until late tonight. Too late.” She took a breath.
Curling his fingers into fists on his lap, he stared at her, waiting for the other shoe. “Multiple sclerosis?”
She nodded. “Yes. It’s an autoimmune disease that attacks the protective barrier of our nerves.”
Obviously, he’d heard of it. “I know what it is. You still haven’t asked me anything.” What was he missing? Other than that he was her second choice, what did she want?
Taking a deep breath, her next words came out in a long stream. “I’ve been working to get a seat on the board here in Nashville for the better part of eight months. There’s a seat available but the chair wants to bring his brother-in-law into the fold. Tonight’s charity is all about who can pull high-profile strings. I said I could.”
What she said rumbled through his head. Cars rushed past them, a few honking on their way. They really needed to get off the shoulder.
“I still don’t see how I can help you. And as far as I can tell, you’re only asking me because I’m available, not because you think it’ll swing things in your direction with the board.”
Her cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink. “Of course you’ll sway things. You are available when others aren’t, but it’s not like you’re sloppy seconds.”
Despite the tension coursing through his veins, the stuffiness of the car, and his mounting irritation, he laughed. “Does it always take you this long to ask an actual question?”
She stiffened her shoulders, looked him straight in the eyes. “Will you attend a charity event tonight, as a celebrity guest, with me so I can make a good impression on the board of directors?” There had to be more. In his experience, no one ever asked for a favor that didn’t directly benefit them. Sure, she wanted a seat on the board of something but it was a good cause and seemed like a pretty impersonal favor. Unless…
“Do you have MS?” His voice was soft but his heart beat hard.
She shook her head, stared out the windshield at the darkening sky. “No,” she whispered. “My mom does.”
Sawyer’s throat tightened. He knew a thing or two about doing things for family. He didn’t know what Addie’s situation was, whether it was volatile and driven by guilt like his own family loyalty, but it clearly meant a lot to her.
“What time is this thing?”
She turned her head. “It’s already started.”
He wanted to go home, spend an hour in his Jacuzzi tub, have a couple of beers, and go to sleep. And there still might be more than she was saying.
“What does the seat on the board give you?” He’d known plenty of people who wanted cache, status, the limelight. It pissed him off. Because the people who were in the limelight got there, usually, doing something they loved. Something they were passionate about and worked their asses off to achieve.
Her brows furrowed. “It would mean having more input into where the funds raised go, having access to families to see what other supports they need, and it would allow me to be part of building a stronger media campaign to raise awareness. The MS society here in Nashville is a tight group. I want to be part of it and the wonderful work they’re doing. I know I can add to their campaign. I want a chance to show them I’d fit.”
Damn it. If she’d asked for money or for him to sign body parts, he could have said no without a hitch. This was different. She’s different. A little annoying, pretty presumptuous, but, if he trusted his gut at all—and that was hard for him these days—her heart was in the right place. He glanced down at his jeans, then back up at Addie. “I’m not exactly dressed for black tie.”
Her grin shot straight through him and his mind went utterly blank. That smile was enough to make him forget who he was. Which, at the moment, sounded pretty good.
She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I have a suit for you in the back.”
A deep chuckle burst from his lungs, surprising him. “You come prepared.”
“You’ll do it?” The hope in her voice tugged on his heartstrings. What heartstrings? Don’t get emotionally involved. Hadn’t he learned that lesson time and again? No. This was just the right thing to do. Maybe he was overtired from traveling or avoiding the ache keeping time in his leg, but he wanted to say yes to this woman. And he didn’t want to spend even two seconds analyzing why.
Another thought occurred to him. It was rare that people offered to give back what they asked for and even if they did, few were in a position to give Sawyer something he needed. Addie was a different story, and having an I.O.U. he could cash in might be a saving grace not too far down the line.
He nodded. “Yes.”
She beamed at him. Literally freaking beamed. Foreign feelings tumbled like a dryer sheet inside him, making him uneasy.
“But you owe me,” he said, holding her gaze.
Chapter Three
Addie’s stomach felt like she’d downed a fistful of Pop Rocks and a chaser of soda. Her body was literally vibrating and most of it was from fear. She hadn’t told him everything. He’d agreed, very begrudgingly, but who could blame him? Sawyer McBain was currently changing into an Armani tux to be her show-and-tell for the evening, and she hadn’t given him all the details.
When did she turn into such a coward? For someone who prided herself on relationships and organization, she was sorely mismanaging both things right now.
Reginald Dawson, the current head of the MS foundation charity association, walked her way, his lips pressed in a flat line. She’d heard through someone else that he wanted his brother-in-law to take the vacant seat on the board. A Nashville born and bred insider. Something Addison was not.
When she moved here last January, to support and be with her best friend and boss, Isla Bennett, she’d promised herself, and her mom, that she’d do even more to make an impact. In the fifteen years or so that she’d been part of fund - and awareness-raising for multiple sclerosis, there had been some major improvements and steps in the right direction. Addie had been fueled by the desire to make her family’s life better despite her mom’s illness since she found out about it at twelve years old. In doing so, she’d found a passion for contributing as a whole.
Which sometimes made her do slightly crazy things like kidnapping baseball players.
“Miss Carlisle,” he said, his eyes cooler than the ice-blue tie he wore. His job of overseeing the foundation was meant to focus on making lives better, but he had a tendency to treat others with disdain. He wasn’t unkind. Just…dismissive. Unless a person had the proper credentials and family lineage. Addie’s fund-raising, charity, and volunteer work should have spoken for itself. Loudly.
“Mr. Dawson. Everything looks beautiful,” she said genuinely, looking around at the gorgeous ballroom. Silver balloons, streamers, and taper candles decorated the space. Mini white lights shone through a gauzy silver fabric that hung loosely from the ceiling. It had been Addie’s suggestion to do a silver-themed event to honor the twenty-fifth anniversary of the local organization. She’d brought it up at the last meeting and though Mr. Dawson had suggested “newcomers” simply listen, the others on the board had been receptive to the design idea.
The man’s salt and pepper hair made him look distinguished rather than old. He was old-school, old-money, and didn’t seem to like Addie for the simple fact that he didn’t know where she came from. Not that he’d asked.
“It does. But then, we always do a wonderful job with presentation,” he replied.
Fidgeting with the clasp on the black clutch she held, she forced herself to hold his gaze. She could endure almost anything when it came to finding ways to make her mother’s fight easier.
Mr. Dawson looked around and then settled his gaze on her again. “I heard your guest had a last-minute cancelation.” Was she imagining the pleasure in his tone?
Other people milled about, dressed in their finest silks and satins, and for one quick second, staring at this man who looked down his nose at her, she felt like she didn’t fit in. How stupid is that? My money, time, and effort are every bit as good as yours.
“Lenora brought a singer. Damon someone or other,” he said, brows raised.
Addie’s jaw dropped and her eyes searched the crowd. Did he mean Damon Sutter? The swoon-worthy singer-songwriter who was climbing the charts? She was definitely a fan. But what woman who had eyes and listened to music wasn’t?
She willed her heart rate to settle, but come on! The man wrote lyrics that made women believe real love was out there waiting for them. She didn’t spot him, but she did see several other stars. Her breath quickened and she reminded herself they were all just people too. Really freaking awesome, hot people. Addie should have been more chill, since she spent her days in a building full of superstar athletes, but in truth, she didn’t interact all that much with the players. But that is going to change, and you can’t act like some groupie.
Mr. Dawson cleared his throat. “Being able to follow through on your word is very important. We have a lot of families that depend on us,” he said. She felt like she was in high school, being chastised for not turning in her homework. A retort settled heavily on her tongue.
A warm, strong hand rested on her shoulder, fingertips curling in, shooting sparks all the way to areas that hadn’t had any attention in a long while.
“I think that’s very commendable,” Sawyer’s rich voice said. His body brushed against hers as he came to her side. “When Addie asked me to attend, the enthusiasm and passion in her voice was enough to sell me on being a part of the great work you do.”
Mr. Dawson’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open for a fraction of a second. He held out his hand. “Sawyer McBain. It is an honor. I’m Reginald Dawson, executive director of the Nashville organization.”
Sawyer squeezed Addie’s shoulder before removing his hand and shaking Mr. Dawson’s. It was no secret that Reginald was a hardcore sports fan with a particular fondness for baseball. He’d know that Sawyer tended to avoid large-scale events. He might have enough sway to influence who sat on the board, but running into someone from the Slammers was not an everyday occurrence for the man.
“Nice to meet you. It’s wonderful that you have volunteers like Addie to help make your foundation so successful.”
Mr. Dawson all but rubbed his hands together, and though Addie felt warmed by Sawyer’s words, she had a feeling it was more to do with Dawson’s attitude than his appreciation of Addie. They’d had a rocky start but maybe, just maybe, they could become friends.
“Yes, well. It’s a great cause. And I’m happy to see that you followed through, Addison. Any of our hometown team would have been great, but this is exceptional. Just excellent to meet you, Sawyer. Hell of a hit you took. You look all healed up now. Just in time for the playoffs. That’s got to be a thrill for all of you.”
“It absolutely is. We’ve worked hard to get where we are, and our new management has led with extreme grace and commitment. It’s a team effort.”
Addie stared up at him. Holy-stock-answer. Did he believe what he said or had he said it so many times it was memorized? Sawyer looked at her, then back at Dawson. “You have quite the crowd here.” She heard the edge in his tone.
“Yes. We always pull in a large group of supporters. We’re happy to have you on board. People will be leaving their paddles in the air when you hit the stage. I bet we raise more this year, between you and that singer, than we have ever before.” His grin was blinding and a lot more genuine than the one he’d given Addison. “Speaking of which, I should get things started.”
He walked off, and Addie’s insides bunched like an accordion. He could still walk out and it would be even worse now because Dawson knows who you brought. The second favor was really an extension of the first. Turning slowly, she saw his scowl and was ready to launch into a defense of her actions when his eyes narrowed and roam
ed down her body.
She bit her lip and smoothed a hand over her hip. She felt her pulse in way too many places. Under her suit jacket, she’d worn a black evening dress. She’d put a white dress shirt and jacket over it so when she’d picked him up she looked more like one of the servers. In the bathroom, she’d ditched the outerwear, leaving only the dress. The sweetheart neckline had easily been hidden beneath the bulky overcoat, which had also restricted the sexy A-line. A thin black ribbon circled her rib cage, right under her breasts, making them look fuller than her average size. Her shoulders were bare and with her hair up, she knew she looked elegant, even though she hadn’t paid a fortune for the dress. She’d had high-paying jobs for several years now but chose to live frugally, funneling money into causes close to her heart. Mostly. She had a weakness for pretty purses but felt everyone should have a vice. It humanized them.
“Where were you hiding this outfit?” Sawyer’s voice was rough, his eyes heated.
Addie swallowed. She hadn’t known until right this moment that just someone’s tenor could make her skin come alive. “I’ve been wearing it the whole time.”
He breathed deeply, his eyes fastening on her own. She had to remind herself that she had only one goal here and it had nothing to do with running her hands over Sawyer McBain. But boy, did she want to. The tux she’d brought fit him like he was modeling it for GQ. The slight stubble on his square jaw gave him an extra sexy vibe.
