by Kathy Lyons
“I’m not this bold, Sam.”
“Bullshit. Come on, Heidi. It’s time to get fierce with your life. Are you going to let one asshole with access to security tapes control your life?”
“No.”
“So what are you going to do?”
I took a deep breath. I could do this. “I set out to write an article about Rob, and that’s what I’m going to do.” Saying it aloud made it more real. And me less able to back out.
Samantha cheered. “So what’s it going to be about? Are you going to smear him?”
“Smear Rob? God no! But I’m not going to sugarcoat anything, either. It has to be a real article about the real man.” I thought about his Clark Kent persona. The Bobcats had been working overtime to make him seem like an all-American clean-cut kid from Nebraska. But honestly, the press had known about his women for months and hadn’t really cared. Superstars got lots of women. Could I write about that? The very idea made my insides twist with jealousy. I didn’t want to know about Rob’s other women, which meant the article had to be something else.
“He had an injury at the beginning of the season,” I said. “It worries him.”
“But he’s been playing great.”
True. Besides, I’d have to get a doctor to confirm it anyway and I didn’t know how I’d do that. I tried something else.
“There’s something in his past. Back from high school.”
“Ooh, juicy!”
“It could be nothing.”
“You won’t know until you check it out.”
I struggled with my ethics. I’d promised Rob that everything we’d talked about was off the record. So was I really about to betray that promise? Because Nico was an asshole? The very idea made me sick to my stomach. There had to be some way to get an article without betraying him. One that showed the paper I was an asset and didn’t hang Rob out to dry. I just had to find it.
I groaned. “Why am I working so hard at a stringer job? No one cares if I ask if they want fries with their burger.”
“Exactly,” Sam answered. “No one cares. You want to make a difference.”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“Hell, no,” she laughed. “I just want to make a ton of money.”
I laughed at that because I knew she wasn’t nearly as shallow as she pretended. We talked for a while longer, catching up on the week’s events. And then we reluctantly said goodbye. Because first thing in the morning, I was heading out to Nebraska, to learn the truth about Rob Lee and dig up the dirty secret in his past. Then all I had to do was figure out what to do with it.
Chapter Ten
Rob
I couldn’t believe the mess I was in. And worse, I couldn’t let it affect my play. After screaming at Nico for an hour, he reminded me that I had a morals clause in my contract. Sex with a reporter in the press box violated that big time. And while I was sputtering my outrage, he told me to go home. Worse, he sat in my car just to make sure I got there. And all the while, the bastard kept saying that it was for my own good. I had no idea why the hell he cared so much, and when I asked, he said it was because no one had stopped him when he was young and stupid, and it would have made all the difference in his life.
I had nothing to say to that except that I believed in Heidi. She wasn’t going to write anything negative about me. Yeah, maybe that was naive, but I still trusted her.
If only I had a way to contact her. Thanks to Nico’s interference, she’d walked off without giving me her phone number or email address, and though I knew her last name, there were a zillion Heidi Wongs on social media. Once I was at home, I called the newspaper where she worked, but what the hell could I say? The Bobcats were obsessive about controlling media contact. I couldn’t leave my real name or contact information. I finally just said I was Rob from Ft. Lauderdale and begged her to email me with her contact information. I gave her a brand-new email address and prayed she got the message.
And then I waited.
It was stupid to think she’d get her work messages on a Saturday night. It was even more stupid to get anxious because I didn’t hear anything on Sunday, either. By Monday morning practice, I was a mess—defiant toward Nico, angry at myself, and wholly unfocused. I tried to play it cool, but everyone noticed. Fortunately, I was able to pass it off as nerves after my less-than-amazing performance on Saturday, but that wasn’t going to last. I knew I had to get my mind off Heidi, but damn it, there was no way that was going to happen. Not unless I was able to talk to her again. I needed to reassure her that I had nothing to do with Nico’s threats and that I would do everything I could to get that video from him.
I thought I’d managed to get my wandering brain back in line, but the minute I stepped onto the field, I saw her everywhere. I remembered how she’d looked in the fading sunlight, her black hair showing red highlights from the sunset. How her mouth had opened in awe as she looked up at the stands, and how we’d laughed about it while we walked the bases. That was hard enough, but then I looked at the press box and remembered the way her body had fisted me. It was the most pleasure I’d ever felt. And just like that, my concentration shattered.
Batting practice was humiliating. If I thought I’d showed badly in the game, this was exponentially worse. I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, and everyone noticed. Including the Bobcats manager, who sauntered up to me. As the team coach, he was a big man with jowls and tired eyes, and when he spoke, he tended to blast like a foghorn. He was also a legend in baseball and a few months ago, he’d seemed really excited to work with me. Right now, he just looked grim.
“Coach?” I asked as he walked up.
“Feeling the pressure?” he asked.
“Er, yeah. I guess.”
His eyes narrowed, but his voice remained unusually quiet. “Look, you’re not the first rookie to get up his own ass first season—”
“I know—”
“But you’re one of the best-paid ones.” He spoke right over me, and I figured I’d better button my lip. But then he was silent, staring hard at me, and I swallowed and scrambled for something to say.
“Yes, Coach.”
“Nico says it’s a girl.” He pronounced “girl” like he was farting and grunting at the same time.
“Nico should keep his nose out—”
“Don’t get smart, rookie,” he said with a kind of bark. The foghorn wasn’t far away, so I decided to show some humility.
“I’m not trying to be smart, Coach. I respect Nico’s opinion,” I lied, “but I had it under control.”
“Bullshit.” There’s the foghorn, and I winced. “Nico never gets involved unless you’re an idiot.” His jowls quivered as he glared at me. “Were you an idiot?”
Hard to deny that one. And since I’d never lied to my coach in my entire life, I had to fess up the truth. “Maybe.”
He snorted. “It’s not pills or booze, is it? She’s not pushing that shit on you?”
“No.” I bit the word out. Everyone was tested for drugs, and I was as clean as a whistle. But that didn’t stop everyone from asking.
“Then it’s just tits and ass. So get over it.”
I clamped my mouth shut. Heidi was a hell of a lot more than T&A, though I wasn’t sure how I knew that. Objectively speaking, all we’d done was have the best sex of my life. Twice. Though when I thought of her, I remembered the way we laughed with each other. How everything felt easy with her, including the sex.
Coach coughed out a breath. “Listen, Rob, pussy ain’t new to you. You’ve had plenty and still hit homers. And that’s your job, the reason you’re here on my diamond. So ditch the girl and do your job. Got it?”
I swallowed. He was right. Problem was, I’d been trying to get Heidi out of my brain for two days now and it hadn’t worked. And as for the nights, I’d jerked off with her panties in my hand, so no, I didn’t have my head on straight. What the hell was I going to do?
“Oh Jesus. Here she is,” Coach grumbled.
I
whipped around, straining to see Heidi. But it wasn’t her. Instead, I saw the team owner, Joe DeLuce, strutting in with his daughter, Brittany, on his arm.
Brittany. Oh shit. I’d promised to see her after Saturday’s game in the owner’s booth, but had been so preoccupied with Heidi, I’d completely forgotten.
Meanwhile, the bottle blonde’s gaze found mine immediately and her bow of a mouth pursed in a flirty way. I couldn’t tell if she was blowing kisses or was annoyed at me because I’d forgotten our meeting. I’d already been warned by my older teammates that Brittany liked to drape herself on the new talent. I was this year’s selection and up until Saturday, I hadn’t minded one bit. She was gorgeous, a hot kisser (we’d never done more), and knew when to back away when I had to practice. But after seeing Heidi again, Brittany became just one more complication I didn’t want. But she was the owner’s daughter, and I needed to make nice.
“Give me five minutes, Coach,” I said. “Maybe ten. And then I’ll start hitting homers. I swear.”
Coach didn’t respond except with a grunt. But I knew that meant I had my ten minutes.
There’s nothing like a spoiled, alpha girl to shrink a guy’s libido. I’d dated a couple back in high school, so I knew the type. I hadn’t been a football star, so I didn’t rate the top girls, but I was an athlete and that gained some attention. But it had been enough for me to realize that the pretty curves weren’t worth the effort.
“Hey, Brittany, sorry about Saturday.”
“It’s okay. I understand the pressure you’re under.” She pursed her lips again and flashed me a coy look. I couldn’t help but compare her to Heidi, who wouldn’t know how to be coy if her life depended on it. “Maybe we can get together tonight. I’ll help you unwind.”
Hell, had she just offered to have sex with me while standing less than three feet from her father and my boss? The idea was enough to obliterate my libido completely, which had been my plan. I gave her a shrug.
“I need to focus, Brittany. Let me get my head on straight, and then maybe I’ll give you a call.”
This time, there was a definite pout and her brows narrowed a fraction in annoyance, but a moment later, it all smoothed out. “How about I just watch you practice then? I’ll be your personal cheering section.”
I was still trying to figure out how to gracefully tell her to go away when her father spoke up, his voice friendly but with an undercurrent of threat. “Let the boy do what he needs to do, Brit. He has to do well on Wednesday.”
“Of course, Daddy,” she said quickly. “I’m just trying to be encouraging.”
Here it was, the classic dilemma. Would I be swayed by the carrot or the stick? Except in my case, they were both sticks. I didn’t want to get close to either one of them. Fortunately for me, that brought all my wandering attention back to my purpose. Sure, I still worried about Heidi, but I’d sworn years ago to not let anything interfere with baseball. It was the real secret to my success, and now I recommitted to it.
I gave both DeLuces a respectful nod and headed back to the batting cage. On the way, I passed our manager and under my breath, I muttered, “I’m under control now, Coach. Thanks.”
He grunted, which was baseball speak for “prove it.” So I did.
I grabbed my bat and stepped up to the plate. I noticed pretty quick that Coach wasn’t the only one watching. About half the team had stopped what they were doing to judge me. The other half was finishing their work while keeping an eye cocked in my direction. And then there was Brittany, stepping up right in my line of vision. Her blond hair was blowing in the breeze and she’d angled herself so the full length of her legs were in view just above the fencing.
Perfect. Because I really didn’t want to see that. Which meant I swung my gaze to the white ball held in the pitcher’s hand. My whole world narrowed to the bat in my hands and the ground beneath my feet as I lined myself up. Everything else faded away.
There!
I saw the baseball speeding toward me. A white explosion of movement. My body reacted before my mind said anything. It flowed toward the white dot in the way that Niagara Falls flows to the basin below. I was smooth and inevitable, and with enough force to smash a Mack Truck.
Homer.
In the background, I heard Brittany squeal and clap her hands in delight. I saw, more than heard, the manager’s grunt of approval. And all around the field, my teammates nodded or spit according to their disposition. None of that mattered.
Inside, I felt right. Everything was aligned again. I’d come back home to baseball and Heidi was back in my life. Those were good things, even if all the details weren’t sorted out. It was all about patience. That’s what I’d told Heidi on Saturday, and that’s what I would stick with.
Patience. So I relaxed back into my stance and waited for the pitch to be perfect. And it was. I hit it with perfect timing. And I did it again and again. I hit so well that even the batting coach was impressed, and he rarely offered anything but corrections. By the end of the day, I went home tired and happy. The mood lasted right up until I checked my new secret email address for messages.
Not one.
Heidi hadn’t responded.
Suddenly, the world was dark, and I was despondent.
So much for my newfound rightness with the world. Hell. I had to find her before depression crept into my life or I was in trouble for sure.
I didn’t find her for two more days, and even then, I wasn’t certain. It came in a message from my mother about a Chinese woman reporter who was poking around town asking questions about me. There were lots of reporters in the world, many of them Asian, but I knew in my heart it was Heidi. What was she doing back in Nebraska? Was she after a story, even though she’d promised? If it wasn’t for the fact that we were just starting a three-game series against the White Sox, I would have hopped in my car and driven straight home. But we were in Chicago and I had to focus.
Fortunately, I had a plan.
Chapter Eleven
Heidi
The third game, Bobcats versus White Sox, was coming to an end as I sipped my beer at the local sports bar in Rob’s hometown. My head was pounding from the noise and the discussions about their hometown hero. Rob had not done well in the first game of the series, only hitting a single and the Bobcats had lost. But then something fired him up. Game two featured a couple of doubles from Rob that brought his teammates home for a 4–1 win. Game three had started out grimly, with no one on base when Rob came up to the plate. Then Brittany DeLuce had “accidentally” lost her scarf over the field. Everything came to a stop when Rob caught it, held it aloft with his thousand-watt smile, then passed it over to the umpire. The camera had loved the shot of the beautiful blonde with raspberry lips and impressive cleavage as she blushed prettily. Then Rob had hit a home run and speculation ran rampant.
Everyone was sure he was sleeping with the boss’s daughter, and I had to look away rather than watch him grin as he rounded the bases. I remembered being the object of that smile, and it hurt to see him give it to a woman so much prettier than me. Fortunately, the moment I turned away from the TV, I noticed another person grumbling into his beer. A sour-faced lumberjack of a man, who scowled at the screen as fiercely as I’d been doing a moment ago.
Could this be the mysterious Tommy who had reason to hate Rob? I sure hoped so, because the last few days had been filled with glory stories about their hometown boy, so rosy that they couldn’t possibly be true. No one was that wholesome or talented. And yet every soul in Broken Bow, Nebraska, had a tale about Rob, of when he’d saved their cat or done chores for them when someone was ill. And that was nothing compared to the string of women who claimed to have had a hot moment with the heavy hitter. Most only claimed a kiss or three, but others were more graphic and a thousand times more glowing. That, unfortunately, was something I could relate to. Rob was nothing if not skilled in bed.
I moved closer to the grumbling man and tried to think of a smooth way to approach him. O
nly I didn’t need subtlety. I just needed to be female. Once the cheers had died down, the man looked around the bar and landed on me.
“Hey good looking, you hate baseball as much as I do?”
I smiled and shrugged. “Not my favorite sport. You?”
“I like the sport. It’s the people I hate.”
That sounded promising. “Mind if I join you?” The bar was crowded, but his small table was deserted except for him. Apparently, no one liked a guy who dissed the hometown hero.
He kicked a chair closer to me. Classy—not. And then our voices were drowned out by a roar of approval from the crowd. It was the seventh inning stretch, and the cameras were focused on Rob and Brittany as she tied her scarf around his bat. Her blond hair was blowing artfully back from her face as she leaned over…and over…and over. Damn, the camera did love her cleavage as she planted a big kiss on Rob’s cheek.
He grinned for the cameras, but I could see a note of strain around his eyes. I already knew that he found all the media attention stressful, but it was part of his job. I kept searching his face, hoping for a telltale sign that he didn’t feel the same way about the bleached blonde as he did for me. Something—anything—that said, I was special to him.
I didn’t find it. I was just another in a long line of women who had graced Rob’s bed. Though, of course, I hadn’t even rated a bed recently, I thought sourly. Just a desk in the press box.
Pulling my attention back to the bitter guy in front of me, I watched him all but spit at the TV. And when he noticed my attention, he shrugged. “Bastard has all the girls eating out his hand. They don’t know the truth.”
I blinked and tried to appear fascinated instead of repulsed. This guy might be the reason I came to Nebraska, but that didn’t mean I had to like digging up dirt. “What truth?”
“He’s a coldhearted bastard. He uses ’em and throws ’em away like tissues.”
“Women?”
“Women, friends, you name it. He just takes and takes and nobody says boo because he’s famous.”
