The Winning Season

by Alison Packard

  “That can be serious.”

  “Don’t I know it?” She sighed. “And, as usual, I opened my big mouth and pushed her even further into denial.”

  “Have you thought about contacting her parents? She can’t be more than twenty. She probably still lives at home.”

  “That might make it worse.” She paused. “If only I’d been more prepared. I knew I was going to have to talk to her but I hadn’t worked it all out yet. When I walked into the restroom this morning and heard her purging I went with the first thing that came into my head.”

  “Which was?”

  Instead of answering him, she sat up and tucked her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her shins and stared at the smooth flat surface of the swimming pool. For several seconds all Matt could hear was the soft whirring sound of the pool motor, and the occasional chirping of a few blackbirds.

  “I thought she might relate to someone who’d been through it,” she finally spoke.

  “So you asked her to talk to someone you know?”

  “Sort of.” He sensed she wanted to elaborate but he didn’t press her. Her concern for Alexis seemed more than just that of a supervisor concerned about an employee—it felt deeper, more personal than that. “I told her I could help her because I knew what she was going through.”

  “How would you know...?” he began and then paused. “Hold on. Are you saying...?”

  “Yes.” She turned to look at him, her expression solemn. “I had an eating disorder. Bulimia. It was a nightmare...even after I sought help.”

  Matt was speechless. Nothing could have surprised him more. The thought of a woman as strong and as confident as Kelly caught up in the throes of any kind of addiction was impossible to comprehend.

  “I can’t believe I told you that.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder in a gesture he might have perceived as nonchalant if he hadn’t just seen the haunted look in her eyes. “I never talk about it with anyone.”

  “I won’t say a word.” Kelly had entrusted him with something deeply personal. And because she didn’t appear to be one of those women who shared every bit of their life with anyone who would listen, this meant something.

  “I know. Despite everything, I trust you.” Her lips curved in a wry smile. “That’s odd, isn’t it? I never thought I’d say those words to you.”

  “Stranger things have happened.” And nothing was stranger than how this woman, a woman he’d once loathed, had become someone he wanted to spend time with. What else didn’t he know about her? Damn if he didn’t want to find out. “Are you in recovery?” He didn’t know all that much about eating disorders, but he did know there could be serious health risks if it wasn’t treated.

  “For about four years now. I consider myself recovered, but it’s still something I deal with.” Her eyes grew moist. “My parents still worry about me.”

  The tense moment at dinner now made sense. He’d read that bulimics usually threw up after eating. Patricia had probably been worried Kelly was going into the house to purge.

  “What are you going to do about Alexis?”

  “I don’t know.” Her brows knitted. “Her desire to be thin is very strong right now. She doesn’t realize how she’s affecting her health. I do know one thing. Until she can admit she’s got a problem, there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to help her.”

  * * *

  Kelly wasn’t sure exactly what had prompted her to tell Matt about her eating disorder. Maybe it was because she was still unsettled by her encounter with Alexis, or maybe it was because it had killed her to see her parents so worried she was going to relapse. Whatever the reason, it was done now and she had no regrets.

  There had been surprise in his eyes, but no censure or condemnation. He hadn’t pressured her for details, and had seemed genuinely concerned for Alexis. This wasn’t the surly ballplayer she’d first locked horns with in L.A. This was a good and decent human being.

  A good and decent human being who also happened to be the most attractive man she’d ever met. A fact she was fully aware of as he walked her to the Trans Am after they’d said their goodbyes to her parents. Although his body was large and powerful, he moved with athletic grace and supreme confidence. The combination was exciting, and left her wanting more than just those two kisses they’d shared. A lot more.

  The sun had long since set, but the street was lit by the glow of a nearby streetlamp. Although the evening air was warm, a late-summer breeze had kicked up, causing the leaves of the old walnut tree across the street to rustle gently in its wake.

  “I’m not looking forward to getting up at the crack of dawn,” Matt said as they halted by the car door.

  “Early morning flights can be brutal.” She smiled. “Oh, and Katherine made it clear that she expects the team to be on their best behavior. I’ve been charged with making sure that happens.”

  “Son of a bitch.” He frowned. “That means you’ll be watching us like a hawk.”

  “Damn straight. You’d better make curfew or you’ll be in deep shit...I mean...big trouble. You’ll be in big, big trouble.”

  Matt laughed. The low rich sound heightened the beat of her pulse. “What is this? Are you seriously trying not to swear?”

  Kelly leaned against the Trans Am, trying to ignore the effect Matt had on her. And it wasn’t only when she was in his presence. It was unsettling how much she thought about him when he wasn’t even around. “I’ve been told it’s not attractive,” she said as he moved to stand in front of her.

  She couldn’t help but notice the smattering of dark hair at the V-neck of his polo shirt. She’d seen his sculpted chest on display in the clubhouse a few times. He wasn’t a hairy beast, but neither did he wax his chest like a few of his teammates did. A practice she found odd, but then that was probably because she liked a man with a bit of chest hair. It was sexy.

  “Who said that?”

  She tilted her head and smiled. “You did.”

  “Did I? Well, I hope you don’t give it up completely. Your penchant for swearing has grown on me.” He moved a fraction of an inch closer; she caught a whiff of his clean male scent. The combination of the soap and shampoo he used after every game. That scent, along with the penetrating look in his eyes, caused her heart to skip and then start beating rapidly. “A lot of things about you have grown on me.”

  “Does that line work on all your women?”

  “It’s not a line, and there are no other women.” He hesitated a moment, and then continued, “There hasn’t been since that night in L.A.”

  “What about that hostess you flirted with?” she asked, remembering the beautiful blonde Matt had chatted up after their heated encounter.

  “I slept alone that evening.”

  She grinned. “You really shouldn’t let that get out. It might ruin your reputation.”

  A wry smile quirked his mouth. “Would you care if I’d slept with her?”

  “Me? Hell, no. I didn’t even like you. You were rude, arrogant and...”

  He put a finger to her lips. The gentle touch effectively silenced her. “What about now?” he asked in a husky voice that sent goose bumps over her entire body. “Do you like me now?”

  She stared at him, her heart pounding so loudly she thought the whole block might hear it.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly when she didn’t reply. “The way you kissed me the other night told me everything I need to know.”

  “Did I mention conceited,” she said, as he traced her lips with the tip of his finger. “It was one kiss, Matt. Don’t get cocky.” She hoped he couldn’t see how much he affected her. He was already way too sure of himself.

  “Two.” His finger stilled on her bottom lip, then traced a path across her jaw. “Two kisses.” He leaned in close, his breath warm on her lips. “Why don’t we make it three?” he said, and in one swift motion covered her lips with his and kissed her with such unrestrained passion she almost couldn’t breathe.

  When she did d
raw breath, it was to part her lips to accept the forceful demand of his mouth. She felt one of his hands in her hair, fisting it, and the other was on her back, holding her steady as their mouths fused hotly. Did he know she was burning up inside? Because she was. And not only that, his kisses had awakened an aching hunger deep inside of her body. All she wanted, no, all she needed, was for that hunger to be sated.

  When their lips parted, her eyelids fluttered open and, dazed, she stared into the ebony pools of his eyes. The air shifted and seconds passed, seconds filled with sexual yearning. It throbbed between them, impossible to ignore—impossible to forget.

  A car turned onto the street from the main road, illuminating them briefly with its headlights. As it passed, Matt released her and slid his hands slowly down her bare arms. She shivered at his light touch and, unbidden, the thought of him caressing every inch of her body flashed in her mind. Her breath caught at the potent image.

  “I’m glad you’re coming on the road trip.” Matt took a step back, putting space between them.

  “Why?”

  He searched her face, his gaze lingering briefly on her lips. “Because now I don’t have to wait two weeks to kiss you again.”

  His words, along with the raw heat in his eyes, ignited a sudden, fierce longing inside of her that almost knocked her off of her feet. Stunned by its onslaught, she pressed her palms to the car for support and took a deep breath to regain her equilibrium.

  “You’re presuming I want you to kiss me again,” she said in her haughtiest tone.

  A smile teased the corner of his mouth. “I think you want me to do a lot more than that.”

  “You’re wrong.” Actually, he was right, but there was no way in hell she was going to admit that to him. No way in hell.

  “Am I?” Matt fished his keys from his front pocket and flashed a cocky grin. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Like a number of ball clubs in the league, the Blaze had a strict curfew when the team was on the road. In the past year Matt had blatantly ignored that policy, but since being traded to San Francisco he’d made it a point to behave himself.

  Which was why, instead of enjoying an ice-cold one downstairs in the bar, he was alone in his hotel room watching ESPN’s rundown of the divisional standings. With tonight’s come-from-behind victory, the Blaze were in sole possession of first place. They’d bested the Marlins in three out of four games while the Dodgers had lost two of their four-game series with the Colorado Rockies.

  It was good to be in first place, but with six weeks left in the regular season anything could happen.

  As ESPN went to game highlights, he turned off the television and glanced at his watch. It was just after eleven but he was nowhere close to being tired. Maybe it was time to start that mystery novel he’d purchased in the hotel’s gift shop. He had to do something to keep his mind occupied. If not, he’d start thinking about Kelly and then he’d never get any sleep.

  Five days into the road trip Kelly was doing her best to keep her distance. She made sure not to sit near him on the team’s charter planes and buses, she spoke to him only in the presence of his teammates, and she steered clear of him in the media room. He wasn’t buying her disinterested act one bit. She wanted him as much as he wanted her even if she wouldn’t admit it.

  He knew this not only because of the way she’d kissed him, but because there had been a few times during the trip when he’d looked up and found her staring at him, heat smoldering in those whiskey eyes of hers. This past year he’d easily found women to satisfy his physical urges. Now he couldn’t fathom it. The only woman he wanted was Kelly.

  The ringing of his cell phone prevented him from wondering just what that meant. He rose from the foot of the bed, moved to the dresser and grabbed the phone.

  “Dude. You gotta come down here,” J.T. replied to his greeting, and judging by the excitement in his voice, his mood was much improved from earlier in the day.

  “Where is here?”

  “The bar. Whoever said Miami women were hot wasn’t lying.”

  “You know you’re out past curfew, right?”

  “Fuck curfew.” J.T.’s voice rose over the loud salsa music. “I’m tired of the women in San Francisco. Miami women know how to par-tay.”

  Matt was fairly certain J.T. wasn’t referring to all women in San Francisco. Just one. Angie DeMarco. Ever since the night of the softball game when J.T. had accompanied Angie to Kamu’s J.T. had been prickly as hell. But whenever Matt asked him about it, J.T. brushed him off.

  “C’mon, man. I need a...a...whaddaya call it?” He paused. “A winger. No wait, that’s not right. A wing man. Yeah, that’s it. I need a wing man.”

  “A wing man? Are you drunk?” J.T. had a strict policy of only one beer after a game but by the sound of it, he’d had a lot more than that.

  “Gettin’ there.”

  “Great.” Matt shook his head and sighed. “You know if the skipper or Kelly find out about this you’re fucked, right? You could be fined.”

  “I don’t give a...” J.T. began and then a loud wolf whistle pierced Matt’s eardrum. “Damn, she’s hot.”

  “Don’t move.” He picked up his key card and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. He had a gut feeling this wasn’t going to end well. “I’m coming down.”

  * * *

  Kelly let out an annoyed groan as the insistent ringing of her cell phone jerked her into consciousness. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, rolled to her side and reached for the phone. As she picked it up she noted the time on the clock radio. Twelve-ten. Not good. Calls at this hour could mean only one thing. One or more of her players had been doing something they shouldn’t have been doing and got caught doing it.

  “Speak,” she said groggily, not looking at the caller ID. Bottom line—it didn’t matter who delivered the bad news, just that they did it quickly so she could handle the fallout with the least amount of media coverage. Whoever had coined the phrase “any publicity is good publicity” was an idiot of the highest order.

  “You need to come to the hotel bar right now.” It was Matt and his tone was serious. “Before this gets out of hand.”

  Kelly pushed herself up, fully alert. She reached for the button on the base of the lamp and pressed it. Bright light filled the room, causing her to squint. “Before what gets out of hand? And what the hell are you doing at the bar after curfew?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Just get down here.”

  Less than ten minutes later, Kelly pulled open the door to the hotel’s bar, aptly named Trouble. She stepped inside, let the ornate glass door close behind her and took root at the entrance to get her bearings. Most of the hotel bars she’d been in were on the sedate side, but not Trouble. Up-tempo Latin music filled the air, along with the animated chatter of its clientele, which seemed to consist mainly of young women showing off their ample assets in the skimpiest outfits she’d ever seen. Since it was widely known that the hotel was utilized by most of the teams in the league when they traveled to Miami, it was obvious why all the women were here—to score with a ballplayer.

  The room was oblong, with a horseshoe-shaped bar in the middle of it. There was a parquet dance floor to the left of the bar, and to the right was a section with strategically placed tables, chairs and small plush couches for customers to talk and mingle. The lights were low, and the women plentiful. It was the ideal place for a Blaze player to hook up with a cleat chaser—if he were so inclined.

  Advancing into the bar, she threaded her way through the crowd. Several of the overly tanned and heavily made-up women gave her pitying looks. She ignored them. In her rush, she’d hastily pulled on jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of flip-flops. She’d dressed for speed, not style. Her only goal to diffuse whatever situation Matt had gotten himself into.

  The sound of raised voices caught her attention. Following the sound, she saw Matt standing between J.T. and another man, who were glaring angrily at each other. Matt had
his hand on J.T.’s chest as if restraining him. Kelly quickly headed toward them and noted that a group of onlookers had gathered around the trio.

  “What’s the problem?” She met Matt’s exasperated gaze as she stepped between two gawkers.

  “I’ll tell you what the problem is,” the stocky man standing next to Matt said before Matt could answer. “This guy,” he pointed toward J.T. with a short pudgy finger, “punched me in the face.”

  Kelly peered at him. His face was doughy and he had a bushy mustache with eyebrows to match, but there was no evidence he’d been struck. There wasn’t a mark on him.

  “That’s a lie,” J.T. protested hotly. “You came at me and I pushed you.” J.T. turned toward her, worry clouding his expression. “I swear I didn’t punch him.”

  “The hell you did.” The man’s voice rose. “Someone call the cops. I’m pressing charges.”

  “Wait a minute.” Kelly held up her hand and directed her attention back to Matt. “What did you see?”

  “Not a damn thing. I went to the bar to get a beer. When I came back they were shoving each other.”

  “Take J.T. to his room. I’ll talk to...” She swung her gaze to the man. “I’m sorry, what’s your name, sir?”

  “Chuck. And I don’t take kindly to anyone talking shit about my team.”

  “I don’t wanna go back to my room.” J.T.’s tone was belligerent.

  “And I’m not leaving you here with...” Matt glared at Chuck, “...this clown.”

  “Who are you calling a clown, Scanlon?” Chuck demanded, but quickly shut his mouth when Matt gave him his trademark stink eye.

  “I can handle this,” Kelly said sternly and looked from Matt to J.T. “It’s past curfew. If you don’t want me to report this infraction then you’d better get your asses back to your rooms and let me talk to Chuck.” She glared at Matt and pressed her lips together into a grim line. As far as she was concerned he was just as guilty as J.T. Maybe even more so since he was older than J.T. and should be setting an example.

  Matt put his hand on J.T.’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” His tone was stern. J.T. seemed to know when to cut his losses and gave Chuck a stony glare before Matt nudged him toward the door.