The Winning Season

by Alison Packard

  Too bad it didn’t wash away the foul mood I’m in, Kelly thought as she left the bathroom and walked naked into her bedroom. The condo she shared with Stacia had two master suites, both with their own bathrooms. It was perfect for a roommate situation and she still couldn’t believe she’d lucked into it. It was located a block and a half from Blaze Field. A similar unit had just sold for more money than she’d ever make in her lifetime, but Stacia’s godfather, who was filthy rich, had taken a consulting job in London and would be there for at least three years. He’d sublet the place to Stacia and, luckily, her acquaintance from high school had wanted a roommate to look after the place when she was away. Stacia worked as a flight attendant for a transatlantic airline and was sometimes gone for long stretches at a time.

  Passing by the full-length mirror, she paused and studied her reflection. There was a time when mirrors had been her mortal enemy. But not so much anymore. She’d battled her personal demons and, for the most part, had vanquished them.

  Turning from the mirror, she moved to the dresser and tried to push Matt Scanlon’s irritating image from her mind. It didn’t work.

  The man was an arrogant prick and had been since the day she’d met him. Only then he hadn’t been her problem. He’d been the Dodgers’ problem. With amazing clarity she remembered her sister Kayla asking her what she would do if Matt got traded to the Blaze. She also remembered her response.

  Lose her mind.

  And boy had she lost it. The man pushed her buttons in all the wrong ways. She didn’t know what was worse: that he irritated the hell out of her, or that he looked so damn hot doing it.

  Matt Scanlon was the poster boy for chiseled good looks. He resembled a golden-skinned pirate with his coal-black eyes, strong jaw, firm lips and darker-than-midnight hair. His handsome features were designed to make women swoon with lust and had graced hundreds of magazine covers over the years. Not surprisingly, in the past year his bad-boy behavior had landed him in the tabloids as well as the sports magazines. According to the gossip rags, he’d been spotted on the town with models, starlets and even a few strippers. Not that she actually bought those trashy tabloids, but she’d been known to read them in the grocery store checkout line.

  Didn’t everyone?

  After putting on her usual sleep attire of boy-cut shorts and a tank top, Kelly left her room and headed for the kitchen. She spied Stacia’s purse on the sleek black modular couch, surprised she was home. She hadn’t seen her roommate since Stacia had given Kevin the brush-off at Kamu’s. She had, however, received a text from Stacia telling her to go home without her. That usually meant Stacia had hooked up with someone.

  Knowing of her roommate’s prolific sex life, there was no doubt in her mind that, right now, Stacia had some poor besotted fool in her bedroom where she would show him a headboard-slamming good time and then send him on his way. That was how Stacia rolled. Casual sex was her specialty. Or it would be until she snagged a rich husband. Sadly, that was Stacia’s goal in life.

  Walking into the kitchen, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw that Stacia had some guy pressed up against the edge of the quartz countertop. The mystery man’s hands dug into Stacia’s ass as they engaged in a pretty steamy kiss.

  Damn it. That bottle of water she’d wanted would have to wait.

  She took a step backward. Then another. She was nearly out of the kitchen when her heel hit the tile floor and something sharp dug into her skin. “Son of a bitch,” she exclaimed as she lost her balance and, with arms flailing, almost fell over. Righting herself, she looked up and smack-dab into the eyes of the last man she’d expected to see.

  Matt Scanlon.

  Chapter Two

  With his hands still cupping Stacia’s delectable ass, Matt stared at Kelly Maxwell’s stunned face and felt like he’d been doused with a giant bucket of ice-cold water.

  She was the roommate?

  Of course she was. Because that’s exactly how his life had been going lately.

  “Sorry, Kel,” Stacia said, twisting around in his arms. Of the three of them, Stacia seemed the least surprised. “Did we wake you up?”

  For a moment Matt wondered if Kelly was going to speak at all. She stood mutely in the doorway like the proverbial deer caught in headlights. When her gaze lowered, he was reminded of exactly where his hands were. He let go of Stacia’s shapely posterior, and because he knew it would piss Kelly off, he grinned.

  He was right. She pinned him with a hard stare.

  “I was awake.” She moved to the refrigerator and jerked open the door.

  Stacia eased away from him and shot him an apologetic look and a shrug.

  “I came out to get some water.” Kelly pulled a plastic bottle from the refrigerator and then closed the door.

  As she twisted off the cap, Matt couldn’t help but notice her nipples, taut against the fabric of her snug pink tank top. Then he noticed her legs—a mile long and, while muscular, were smooth and shapely. And then he noticed he was noticing and that pissed him off.

  “You know Matt, right?” Stacia asked.

  “Yes, and it appears you know him too.”

  “He’s nothing at all like you described,” Stacia said, implying that whatever Kelly had said wasn’t flattering.

  Kelly opened her mouth but then clamped it shut. He could see a flicker of irritation in her eyes but it was gone quickly.

  “I’m going to bed,” she said, looking from Stacia to him. “Enjoy your evening.”

  Unable to resist, Matt grinned again. “I’m sure we will.”

  For several long seconds Kelly held his gaze. Judging by the tightness of her jaw and the steeliness in her eyes, it was killing her not to say anything. But just like in the clubhouse, or in the administrative offices at the ballpark, she kept her cool when other people were around.

  “Good night,” she said and then turned to leave. When she did, he noticed one more thing about Kelly Maxwell.

  She had a spectacular ass.

  Until he felt Stacia’s hand on his arm, he’d almost forgotten she was there. He turned to look at her. “Sorry about that,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I guess we should have gone straight to the bedroom.”

  Thank God they hadn’t. The last thing he wanted to do was have sex while under the same roof as that she-devil, Kelly Maxwell. Now that he knew she was Stacia’s roommate there was no way in hell he was staying. It was too fucking weird. No matter how impressive Stacia’s body was.

  He glanced at his watch. “It’s late,” he said and felt a twinge of guilt when disappointment flickered in Stacia’s eyes and her smile faded. “I’ve got to get to the ballpark early tomorrow. Maybe another time?”

  “I’d like that.” Stacia’s smile returned full force.

  During the ten minutes it took him to walk from Kelly and Stacia’s building to his, Matt couldn’t help but think of the night in L.A. when he’d first met Kelly. If he’d apologized to her for his boorish behavior that night she might not be riding his ass so hard now. Ironically, he’d intended to do just that the minute he got to San Francisco, but before he could get the words out she’d shut him down with some caustic remark about the trade and that’s all it took—his good intentions had flown right out the window. They’d been sparring ever since.

  After letting himself into the condo, he tossed his keys on the glass-topped coffee table and moved to the big picture window in the living room. The condo, while stark and utilitarian, had a spectacular view of the ballpark built on the edge of the bay. He wished he could appreciate it, but looking at it only reminded him of how badly he’d trashed his life.

  Turning from the view that mocked him, he caught a glimpse of the framed photograph he’d placed on the mantel above the fireplace. His heart constricted as he gazed at an image frozen in time. That’s all he had left now. Frozen images.

  Moving toward the fireplace, he picked up the baseball next to the picture and stared at the colorful crayon markings on it. The pai
n that knifed through him was sharp—even now.

  Contrary to popular belief, time did not heal all wounds.

  * * *

  The next morning, Kelly sat at her desk typing a press release regarding the latest medical status of Rick Taylor when her summer intern, Alexis, knocked on her semi-open office door and walked in.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Kelly turned from her computer and smiled at the young blonde. “Did you post the information about the wives’ charity softball game on our website?”

  “First thing this morning,” Alexis said. “I’ve also been tweeting about it.”

  “Good thinking. Our Twitter account has picked up quite a few followers in the past few weeks.”

  “Because of Matt Scanlon.”

  Observing the dreamy expression on Alexis’s face, Kelly scowled. But hell, she couldn’t take her bad mood out on her intern, so instead, she forced a smile. “Whatever the reason, you’re doing a good job. Keep it up.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do my best.” Alexis beamed at her. “Is there anything else you need?”

  She was tempted to ask Alexis to go to the clubhouse and direct Matt to speak with the local sportscaster who was hounding her for an interview. But dealing with the players was her job, and as much as she loathed talking to the Neanderthal (as she occasionally referred to him), she would grit her teeth and do it herself.

  “Check to see if those press credentials I okayed are ready.” Kelly leaned back in her chair and studied Alexis. “Have you lost weight?”

  “Almost eight pounds.” Alexis grinned, her eyes alighting with pleasure. “I’ve been following a low-carb, high-protein diet.”

  Kelly was familiar with the plan, having been on every diet known to mankind. Looking at Alexis, she wouldn’t classify her as obese—a lot of girls put on a few extra pounds in college. But in a society where anything above a size six was considered fat, Alexis, like a lot of young women, was under a lot of pressure to be thin.

  For a moment, she considered relating her own experience with dieting but decided against it. Just because Alexis wanted to drop a few pounds didn’t mean she had an eating disorder.

  “You look great,” she said and left it at that. She’d learned a hard lesson about focusing solely on her weight and didn’t want that to be the only thing Alexis thought was important in her life. “Again, I’m very pleased with all the work you’ve been doing.”

  Alexis’s round face suffused with color. “Thanks. I really like working here.”

  After the girl left, Kelly finished the press release and emailed it to the public information manager. Then, knowing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she left her office for the clubhouse.

  With almost a year on the job under her belt, the clubhouse was old hat to her now. Not the case during her first month with the team. Back then she didn’t know where to look because all around her were men in various stages of undress. She’d never been the shy type, but for a while all she’d done was stare at the floor, or the ceiling, to keep her eyes from gravitating to a certain part of their anatomy.

  It didn’t matter though. The players didn’t notice her. Not then, and not now. Due to the growing number of female sports reporters covering Major League Baseball, the novelty of the opposite sex in the clubhouse had worn off.

  They considered her one of the guys anyway. She was taller than a number of them, and she never wore anything other than pants, conservative blouses and blazers to work. She saved dresses and skirts for her off hours. Downplaying her femininity was a conscious decision—she wanted to be taken seriously.

  After entering the clubhouse, Kelly waved at a couple of players who were watching the big-screen television in the lounge that adjoined the locker room. She couldn’t help but smile—the channel was tuned to their favorite soap opera, A New Dawn. Her sister, Kayla, and Kayla’s boyfriend, Sean Barrett, were both on the show. Life had imitated art when they’d fallen in love, just as their characters, Jared and Shay, had on the show.

  When she reached the locker room, she found Dave Rizzo, San Francisco’s star pitcher, holding court as usual. Rizzo was a two-time Cy Young winner and had the ego that went along with the prestigious award. A lot of the players looked up to him and blindly followed his lead. Rizzo wasn’t happy that Matt had been picked up by the Blaze and was pretty vocal about it to anyone who would listen. The result was most of the players had been giving Matt a wide berth.

  Rizzo acknowledged her with a nod and then continued speaking to his rapt followers. Kelly bypassed Rizzo and his entourage and headed straight for J.T. Sawyer, the team’s backup catcher, who was sitting on the bench in front of his locker.

  “Have you seen Scanlon?” she asked when J.T. glanced up from his cell phone. She’d interrupted him mid-text but he didn’t seem perturbed. His hazel eyes were friendly as she halted near the bench.

  “He’s in the conference room watching film,” J.T. replied and resumed his texting.

  “Thanks.”

  When she reached the conference room the door was closed. She stopped and took a deep, cleansing breath. She had to get Matt to agree to start doing interviews. Despite his behavior the past year, he was still one of the most popular ballplayers in the league and the trade was still big news. Everyone wanted to interview him but he wasn’t having any of it. If she didn’t get him to talk soon her boss was going to call her into her office and read her the riot act. That was the last thing she needed.

  Matt didn’t hear her enter the room. He sat in one of the chairs at the end of the long oblong table and in front of the flat-panel television screen, watching a series of at bats by the team the Blaze were facing tonight—the Milwaukee Brewers.

  The sight of his broad shoulders took her back to last night when she’d interrupted him and Stacia in the kitchen. She’d been shocked to see him, but then wondered why. Stacia had wanted to land a professional ballplayer ever since they’d become roommates, and Matt Scanlon was, by all accounts, a man whore. They were made for each other.

  Kelly had never been bothered by Stacia’s choice of sexual partners but she was now. The thought of her roommate and Matt doing it in the next room was gross. They’d just met that night, for Pete’s sake. She wasn’t a prude, but hell, where was the romance in that?

  Thank God they’d been quiet. After she’d left them in the kitchen she hadn’t heard another peep out of them. This morning, when she’d left for the ballpark, Stacia’s bedroom door was closed and there was no evidence that Matt was still there.

  If the past was any indication, he would contact Stacia again. Every guy who slept with her always tried to come back for more—evidently Stacia was blessed with super powers in the sack. While her conquests were usually one-nighters, Kelly would bet her next paycheck that Stacia would jump at the chance to see Matt again. He was rich, successful, and hotter than hell.

  Who wouldn’t hit that?

  Her, for one. Yeah, he was hot and all, but he was an ass. An ass she would have to convince to start doing interviews ASAP or Katherine, her boss and senior vice president of communications, would have a stroke. And because of that, she was going to have to change her tactics.

  Why couldn’t she be as nice as her sister? Hell, she’d settle for being half as sweet as Kayla. It might be the only thing that could get Matt to see things her way.

  She closed the door behind her. “Do you have a minute?”

  Matt swiveled around in the chair, a frown marring his handsome face.

  So far, not good.

  “This is about the interviews, right?” He reached for the remote and turned off the television.

  “I’m not backing off.”

  He sighed. “I told you. No interviews.” He set the remote on the table and leaned back in the chair. His gray T-shirt was molded to his body and for a moment she was distracted by the sight of his powerful physique. She shook it off and got back to the matter at hand.

  “You do know that talking to the
media is part of your job, don’t you?”

  “This isn’t my first rodeo, Kelly.” His voice was tinged with exasperation as he ran a hand through his wavy hair. “I’m well aware of my obligations.”

  “Then why do you keep putting me off?”

  “Because I can’t afford to be distracted right now.” He rose from the chair and ejected the disc from the DVD player. “And truthfully, there’s nothing I have to say that’s particularly interesting.”

  “The media and the fans disagree.” She watched him place the disc in its plastic holder. “They want to know how you feel about the trade, and how the transition is going.”

  He looked up from the DVD, his eyes enigmatic. “That may be, but I’m not ready to talk. When I am I’ll let you know.”

  His dismissive tone irked her and, as usual, set her off. “You had no problem shooting your mouth off before the All-Star break. Hell, I got a dose of it that night at the restaurant with Sean and Kayla. And suddenly, now, you decide to clam up?”

  “About that night,” he began.

  “What about it? Are you finally going to admit you were out of line? Because you were, you know. You were way out of line.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And you weren’t?”

  “I was provoked.” She glared at him. “You called me beefy and then insinuated a woman my size had to be gay.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

  “I agree. I live in San Francisco. I think it’s safe to say that more than half the men in the city are gay. And that statistic doesn’t bode well for us straight women, I can tell you that right now.”

  Matt’s lips twitched in amusement. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I do just fine.” Which was a bit of a lie. She hadn’t been on a date in months. But he didn’t need to know that.

  “I’m sure you do. Especially in that outfit you were wearing last night.”

  She clenched her fists. Jeez, he was infuriating. “I was there with my softball team. All of us were wearing our uniforms.”

  He gave her a slow grin tinged with a hint of wickedness. “I wasn’t talking about your uniform.”