Home Run: A Texas Heat Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  Scher continued. “Right now we have plausible deniability. They have an ‘unnamed source,’ which the public is bound to be suspicious of anyway. And they have a syringe that they claim has your blood on it, but have yet to come forward with real proof. They’re just trying to force our hand. We can walk away, ignore it and still save a little face, basically treat it as something not worth responding to. Put the ball back in their court and see what they do with it.”

  “And have my fans think I’m doping, or worse, a coward?” Carter raged. “No fucking way. Let’s do this—now!”

  “Of course, of course,” Scher said, giving his team a look that held some silent communication. Then he turned back to Carter. “In law, we like to deal with certainties. You know: don’t ask a question you don’t already know the answer to. Before we go ahead and do this DNA test, we need to know—for certain— that the result will be negative.

  “Right now, you’re just talking to us as attorneys. Everything in this room stays in this room as far as the press and the public goes. We can deal with Lone Star State Baseball.

  “Once we do the test, the Sluggers would have no choice but to suspend you if it’s positive. Granted, this wouldn’t be an official league test. However, our priority here is to protect the team, specifically the team’s image. It would mean an eighty-game suspension, the same as the league would give for a first offense. You, of course, would have your image to consider too.”

  How many ways did Carter have to clue them in?

  He walked slowly to the table and leaned in, resting his body on his balled up fists. “I don’t...fucking...dope.”

  Scher took a gulp and turned to Snyder for the okay.

  Snyder just shrugged. “You better hope it’s negative, Fox.”

  “It will be,” he grumbled, not taking his eyes off Scher. “It will be.”

  Positive.

  Fucking positive!

  The test had been done privately. Despite Carter’s assurances, the legal team wasn’t stupid enough to make it public before the results came in. Now, they had snapped right back into C.Y.A mode, circling the wagons around the team and leaving Carter Fox to survive in the wilderness.

  Carter had offered to drop his shorts right there and pee into a cup. It didn’t matter, and he couldn’t blame them. Of course his urine would be clean during the off season, and in preparation for any test they’d want him to take in light of this new development.

  News of the test had somehow gotten out. Carter had been under a media telescope since the Lone Star State Baseball article had come out, so all anyone had to do was put two and two together. Or just grease the hand of a lab tech.

  It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was the test was positive, and now the media knew.

  Once the leak in the dam had started with that first article, the entire thing had collapsed, leaving Carter Fox drowning in a river of shit. Suspected doping was news. Confirmed doping was front page, headline news.

  Carter was camped out in his home. The crowd of reporters outside the fence to his property was probably giving his neighbors more of a headache than even his wildest parties ever had. He wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of even making an appearance.

  The Sluggers’ had no choice but to give an official statement, the gist of it being exactly what they had threatened: out for 80 games. It might as well have been the whole season.

  Hell, it might as well be his whole career. How on earth could he step up to bat in a stadium full of fans, when they thought he was nothing more than a dirty, rotten, juicer? He’d made the mistake of going onto one of the baseball forums. It took him less than 5 minutes to close it out. They had been brutal. Now at least he had a better idea of what Jordan had gone through.

  The thought of her made him even angrier. No doubt she had heard about this. Who the hell hadn’t? Did she believe any of it? That thought killed him more than all of his other fans combined.

  And not a word of it was true.

  Carter was still in a state of bewilderment. His DNA on a needle filled with steroids. How?

  For the most part, he had avoided any and all forms of communication.

  His phone once again lit up at the news. Teammates, corporate, his agent, his mother. He’d finally put it on silent. He couldn’t face any of them. Not right now. He needed time to process, time to figure this whole thing out. Time to find out who the hell was out to get him.

  In the meantime, he made full use of his bar. Watching the DVD set of Cosmos, while three sheets to the wind drunk was surreal—and he couldn’t stop thinking about Jordan the whole time.

  He’d picked up his phone, pulling her number up to call multiple times. She was the only one he could think of with no ulterior motive.

  His teammates, most of them friends of his, had their own careers to think of. Carter couldn’t taint them with his mess. They’d all be under suspicion by association.

  Miles Derrick would be a voice of reason, but he was on the Sluggers’ payroll, and ultimately had to fall in line with them.

  His mother? Christ, he didn’t even want to think about that. Especially not after their last meeting. He hadn’t talked to her since she dropped in unannounced on Jordan and him. She was not the warm, welcoming into the bosom type.

  At some point, Carter would be in no holds barred, warrior mode.

  Right now he just needed someone to make him feel right...feel normal.

  He fell into an alcohol-induced slumber in one of the seats in his home theater. As Neil’s soothing voice droned on, he held a bottle in one hand, and his phone in the other.

  He snapped awake sometime around noon the next day. His head was giving it back as hard as he had abused it the day before. Just one more notch on the belt he planned on using to whip the fucker who’d sullied his name.

  Fortunately, bad boy Carter knew exactly what to do from past experience: eggs, coffee, and bit more liquor. Hair of the dog. It wasn’t a cure-all but it would suffice.

  He stumbled his way into the kitchen like the zombie he felt like. No time to cook the eggs; straight down his gullet, raw. Coffee…fuck it. He wandered back to the bar and grabbed a random bottle.

  One swig.

  Second swig.

  He let the burn go down his throat, shaking it off physically.

  He smelled himself. Jesus.

  A shower would definitely help.

  One more swig.

  Up the stairs. Into the bathroom. Turn on the shower. Hot. Scalding. That should do the trick. Clothes ripped off. Yikes! Maybe not that hot, but it had certainly woken him up.

  He stood there as water came at him from all sides, washing away the funk, the pain, the worries. That was good. So, so good….

  He snapped awake. His body felt numb. The water had been hot. He turned it off, stepped out, grabbed a towel, managed to wrap it around his waist. Fell face first on the bed.

  Sleep.

  Two hours later his eyes blinked open. The room was darker, the sun on the other side of the house. His head felt surprisingly clear. He could actually think.

  It was time to act.

  He grabbed his phone.

  That’s when he saw the message.

  29

  She was still stunned.

  Jordan obviously made a point of never—ever—looking at LoneStarStateBaseball.com, but once the news hit the media at large, she was tuned in pretty quick to the fact that Carter Fox had somehow been suspected of steroid abuse.

  April had at least had enough tact to leave it alone, though she did give the occasional surreptitious look her way. Thank goodness no one else at school knew about her and Carter, since they’d made a point of keeping it under the radar last semester. She couldn’t take the entire school looking at her that way.

  In the safety of her bedroom, she had opened up her laptop to read everything. A syringe with his blood on it?

  She felt so hopelessly sorry for him. Sent back to Houston from spring training, with everyone
most likely turning on him, thinking him guilty. His teammates. His fans. Based on what little interaction she’d had with his mother, she couldn’t imagine there was much warm solace in those arms.

  She felt angry. A surge of fiery protectiveness surged through her veins. This was Carter Fox, her Carter Fox. The man who had lain with her under the stars. The man who had told the world to keep their damn mouth shut when it came to her. The man who told her all about Venus.

  The man who was the father of her baby.

  Jordan had gone and abandoned him just like everyone else. After a few weeks of blocked calls and texts, he had eventually given up. By the time Jordan knew for sure, she had kept waiting for the right time. Now that she was ready, it most certainly wasn’t the right time for him.

  Ben had texted her: Do you believe it?

  She had immediately responded. No!

  One second later he had replied. Me neither.

  So Carter had at least two people in his corner.

  He had to know that she was here in Austin, thinking about him, caring about him…loving him?

  Her heart stopped. There hadn’t been a day that she didn’t think about him, especially now. Whether it was some new, weird symptom of her pregnancy that made her aware that she was carrying a part of him inside her, or a random thing that brought his face to mind, clear as day: the something in royal blue; a truck that was the same make and model as his; looking up at the night sky.

  She remembered how it felt to be in his arms, joking around with him, listening to him tell her some weird fact about space, trying to explain baseball to her, even carrying down the stairs against her will. God, how she missed all of that.

  Even if she couldn’t pick up and drive to Houston to be with him, she wanted—needed—to let him know she was his.

  So she’d written a simple text:

  Carter. I saw the news. I just want you to know that you have at least one person who knows that it’s all lies. I know Ben feels the same way. Call me. I miss you.

  She was in the kitchen later that evening, wearing an old UT t-shirt and Victoria’s Secret pajama shorts washing up the bowl of spaghetti she’d had for dinner.

  Carter hadn’t called or responded to her text. She was heartbroken, but she understood. The man probably had a million things on his plate. Playing make-up and break-up with a pigheaded Jordan Douglas was probably not high on the list of things he wanted to deal with right now.

  How could she have been so damn stubborn? She’d left in a huff, not even giving him a minute of time. She hadn’t returned any of his desperate phone calls or texts. She’d ignored him for months trying to wrap her head around this pregnancy, recognizing full well that he had every right to be involved so he could make a decision. It had taken a devastating knock to his career, his life, to actually get her to reach out to him again.

  No wonder he was ignoring her.

  April was in the living room, having taken over the coffee table with highlighters, pens, laptop, casebooks and more. Even over the music blaring from the earbuds, she started with surprise, just as much as Jordan did at the insistent knocking at the door. Since Jordan was the one already standing, she headed over and took a peep through the peephole.

  Her heart exploded.

  It was Carter.

  She pulled back and stared at the door, jumping as he started in on a second round of knocking. She looked through the hole again and saw the angst on his face. It made her heart seize.

  By now, April was next to her, curiosity and worry clouding her face. She mouthed the words who is it?

  Jordan looked at her friend, bit her lip, then opened the door without responding.

  April’s eyes grew wide, blinking rapidly as she saw who it was.

  “Carter,” Jordan breathed.

  He looked at her, blinked over at April, as if registering the fact that his unannounced visit might be impacting more lives than hers.

  “Um, hey,” April said thinking fast, “You know, I was just about to head over to Matt’s tonight if you need the apartment.” Her face went back and forth between the two of them.

  Jordan gave her a grateful smile as her roommate turned to go pack up her stuff.

  “Sorry,” he said watching her roommate head back toward the living room. “I—I didn’t realize—I just…you’re the only one I could think of to talk—”

  “It’s okay Carter,” Jordan shushed him. She grabbed his arm and led him inside.

  April was finishing up stuffing everything haphazardly into her bag and watched as Jordan led him to take her place on the sofa. While his back was turned she gave Jordan an are you going to tell him? look.

  Jordan quickly shook her head no.

  April shrugged and left.

  Now was definitely not the time. The last thing he needed was a surprise baby on top of everything else.

  She sat on the sofa next to him, pressing her lips together with worry over the state he was in. The man looked a complete mess. Had he just hopped in his car and made the 180-mile trip on the spur of the moment? She supposed she should be glad he had made it in one piece, especially considering the haggard appearance, head in his hands, fingers grabbing his blond locks that looked like they hadn’t been combed at all today. She also suspected there had been more than a bit of alcohol at some point.

  He was wearing a flannel shirt, half buttoned. The jeans were loose and comfortable, and the usual, well-worn cowboy boots were on underneath. Every piece of clothing was wrinkled and disheveled as if he’d twisted and turned during his whole drive over.

  “I just…I don’t understand how this could be happening,” he groaned with frustration.

  She rubbed his back, not knowing what to say, just wanting to be there for him. She had read the original article. It was pretty incriminating. Then, the follow-up articles, where his DNA had matched. Jordan didn’t understand it either. All she knew was there was no way Carter Fox, the man who loved baseball, the man who had so much respect for the game, would ever taint it by taking prohibited drugs.

  Having him here like this, in person, for the first time since she’d left Houston made her want to hold him tight and tell him everything was going to be fine. She regretted the way she had left him. She felt a fierce need to comfort him well up inside her. Maybe it was the baby inside of her—his baby. Maybe it was because the hormones were really starting to kick in. Maybe it was because she was the first person he had thought of to come to for comfort.

  All she knew was, this was her man and if he needed her to be there for him, she would be. She would shield him against all the negativity and hate being thrown at him. Soothe away all the pain and suffering he was going through. Calm his fears and worries. Just…be there. She would never, ever abandon him again.

  Because she loved him.

  She didn’t realize it until she saw him at his most vulnerable. As much pain as he was in, her heart ached twice as hard, watching him suffer it.

  She leaned over and wrapped her arms around the back that was hunched over on his elbows. Her head rested on his shoulder as she ran her hands soothingly over his hair.

  “It’s going to be fine, Carter,” she soothed. “We’ll figure this out together.”

  She could feel her body reacting to being in such close proximity to him again. The smell of him was so familiar and arousing. The feel of his hardened muscles, tightly wound under her soft cheek as he sat there, taut with frustration. She wanted to massage every bit of tension away, turn him back into the playful, teasing Carter who was always the one trying to make her let go and unwind.

  “April will be gone all night,” She murmured into his back. “Stay with me. Let me help you.”

  She felt a shuddering breath go through his body underneath her as he let it out. His muscles relaxed and he turned his face around nuzzling it into her neck. His torso followed as he wrapped his strong arms around her, embracing—absorbing—her into a powerful bear hug.

  Her arms went around his
neck, cradling the back of his head into her shoulder, kissing his temple, savoring him. Her legs naturally wrapped around him wanting every part of her against every part of him. She pressed herself into his embrace, letting him know that she was all his, in any way he wanted her.

  She felt his hands slide up then work their way under the waistband of her shorts, seeking, massaging, grabbing. Squeezing. He groaned into her clavicle and she felt his manhood pressing into her, straining against the zipper of his jeans.

  God, how she wanted him.

  She leaned down to bite the edge of his ear, wanting nothing more than to taste him. Her fingers grabbed at the wool of his shirt, clawing it up his back. He released her so she could finish the job, helping her rip it off of him and cast it aside.

  She sat back on his lap, her hands and eyes exploring every bit of tattoo-covered flesh with a hunger that only starvation could cause. God, how she missed him. His embrace. His mouth, his eyes, his hands, his hair, his everything.

  They gradually tore away each other’s clothes until they were both naked.

  Carter didn’t even pause; simply fell on top of her and thrust himself inside of her causing her to grunt with pleasure. She met him just as hard, pressing her thighs tightly against his waist, arching her back into him, digging her claws deep into his back, pressing him harder into her.

  “That’s right,” she urged, growling in his ear. “Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

  The rabid yell of release that escaped his lips as he thrust into her, nearly made her deaf. He went harder, faster. It only made her want more. She bucked up against him, urging him to give it everything he had. He met her with an intensity she hadn’t felt before and she knew he was finally letting go.

  It went fast and dirty. The violent current of orgasms that raged through her body were nothing like she’d ever experienced before.

  “Oh God, Carter!” she yelled with a primal fervor that harkened back to a distant past where civilities were left behind. This was pure, unadulterated fucking. And she wanted more.

  Carter was beyond forming anything resembling coherent phrases, simply grunting and groaning and thrusting on top of her like a caveman.