A Very Daring Christmas (The Tavonesi Series Book 8)

by Pamela Aares

  Maybe a shower would clear his head. He’d only been halfway present during his coaching session with Aderro’s kids, not that anyone noticed. The boys’ energy ran so high that it would have taken an earthquake to get their minds off baseball.

  He rummaged through his gear bag a second time—it had to be there. He never forgot it. A grin spread across his face as his hand closed around the rippled bottle, and he drew out his bottle of shampoo. The resort had plenty of amenities in the marble-tiled bathroom, but he preferred using his own. His sister made the shampoo for him, and the scent reminded him of summers in the Carolinas. Not that he’d spent a summer there for over six years. That was the only problem about baseball—a player never got to take a summer vacation and travel to see the world. But they got to play the game they loved, and that was what mattered.

  He grabbed a way-too-fluffy white towel off the stack the maid had left just inside the bathroom door and then leaned in and cranked on the shower.

  The gilt-edged, floor-to-ceiling bath mirrors—surrounded by marble tiles polished until every square gleamed in the light cast by fancy brass fixtures—had him pausing before closing the door to the glass-walled shower. Aderro had booked Jake into the fanciest hotel in San Pedro through a friend in the hotel’s management, and he’d sworn that the man had comped Jake’s room. But free or not, the disparity of the hotel’s opulence with what Jake had seen in the village just an hour’s drive away nagged at him like a blister that wouldn’t heal.

  He’d had to learn fast how to handle the changes that came with being a near-instant millionaire. Some changes were welcome; he had to admit he liked not having to worry about making his mortgage payment. And it had meant a whole lot to help his parents buy their place outside of Atlanta. He even liked being able to go out to eat where he wanted and when he wanted. But he’d grown up as the son of a coal miner in a poor mountain town. The fingers of poverty dug deep, especially in places the outside world wanted to pretend didn’t exist. He’d had to learn early on that even with his salary, he couldn’t right all the wrongs in the world.

  And hell, if he didn’t take the million-dollar salary, there’d be a hundred other guys lined up to sign on the dotted line and have their chance at stardom and riches.

  The stardom part he fought with too. There should be some kind of school or program that took guys like him from piss-poor backgrounds and prepared them for life in the Major Leagues. College hadn’t been any help. Life on a sports scholarship at USC had only made him more aware of the gap between him and the rich party boys who didn’t have to have backup careers to fall back on. His dad had kept on him to finish his business degree. Jake knew as well as he did that an injury could’ve ended his baseball career.

  If he kept up his performance and didn’t get injured, he’d make more, even multimillions. He could do some real good with that sort of money. But for now, he had to be realistic. Once the government had eaten its share of his current salary in taxes and he’d paid off his sister’s student loans and bought his parents the house in Atlanta, there hadn’t been a helluva lot left over. But next year? If his agent was successful over the next couple of months, next year would be a different story.

  He stepped into the shower, and the pounding hot water immediately began to soothe the muscles in his upper back. He’d taken a few too many swings on the field the day before without warming up properly. But watching the ball sail over the wall was a thrill, one he’d never tire of. So he’d kept at it until Cameron’s appearance had disrupted the guys on the field.

  He poured shampoo into his palm, slid his hands to his hair and lathered. The scents of rain and soft green spring grass and Cameron Kelley rose in his mind. She smelled like the wildflower honey he used to collect as a boy.

  At the thought of her quick, wide smile and luscious curves, he imagined drizzling honey over that gorgeous body. No wonder half the world was in love with her. She had the bright-eyed look of the girl next door but the curves and flashing smile of the most intriguing siren. A woman like Cameron could drive a guy to distraction. Could drive a guy to thoughts of sex...

  Jake trailed his hand down his body and allowed himself to be distracted. And in just a few moments he found that the release he sometimes craved wasn’t nearly as satisfactory as his blazing fantasy. He whacked the shower handle to cold, and the brisk spray brought him back to his senses.

  He stepped out of the shower. Was he imagining things? He could’ve sworn he heard the sound of Cameron’s laugh. She didn’t laugh much. Hell, their visit to the village hadn’t been material for humor in any way, but she had laughed with the children. And she’d even laughed once at one of his poorly told jokes.

  Her kidnap caper had done more than intrigue him with her spunk and daring. She’d woken him to a bigger picture of the world, up close and personal. He was pretty sure she’d been more shocked at the level of poverty than he had been. But she’d grown up as a Hollywood princess, a child star, and was now an A-list actress. The coal-mining holler he’d grown up in still held him in a firm grip. He knew the sights and sounds that went with being poor, with living on the edge and never being sure there’d be enough money to put food on the table. But he’d never seen poverty like he’d seen in the village the previous afternoon.

  With locker-room quickness, he wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door leading to the balcony. Three floors below him, standing by the sparkling blue waters of the hotel pool and framed by lush tropical flowers in planters, Cameron stood encircled by a group of men in suits. Her arms were crossed, and as she listened to something one of the men said, she frowned. One of the other men tapped her on the arm. She backed away from his touch and frowned again. Jake fought the urge to leap over the balcony and deck the guy.

  Cameron looked up and met Jake’s gaze. She narrowed her eyes and then pointed at him and said something that made the men turn and look toward where Jake stood. He ducked into the room. The last thing he needed was to be on display half-naked for a bunch of suits. No, thanks.

  He’d have a word with Miss Kelley, yes, he would. Another word. No one used him. Not anymore. Whatever she was plotting, he wasn’t available.

  He buttoned into a crisp blue linen shirt. His phone buzzed. He wasn’t one for fancy ringtones; leave those to the guys who had signature walk-on songs at the ballpark. He fumbled around the room, searching for the damned thing. Whatever happened to the days of landlines? Of phones beside the bed that were easy to find?

  But he did like caller ID. He found the phone under the towel he’d thrown on the bed and glanced at the screen, then took the call. When his agent told him he’d been offered the multimillion-dollar contract to be the future face of Nike, Jake astonished Tony when he didn’t say no outright and instead said he’d think about it. He heard the glee in Tony’s voice. The man knew how to launch and sustain careers, and he’d been more than frustrated that Jake wouldn’t follow the tried-and-true paths to success—do the PR and all that other crap.

  He clicked off his phone.

  He could buy a lot of books and clothes and baseballs and hell, water for the kids around here with that sort of money. It wouldn’t solve the problem, but it would help.

  He dressed and then found himself staring out at the pool, where waiters hustled drinks to perfectly tanned women. Cameron and the suits were gone, but like one of those ghosts you hear about that shows up in old-fashioned photos, her image hovered. And relit his fantasy. But he had no time that evening for fantasies. He was meeting Aderro downstairs in ten minutes.

  When Jake entered the hotel bar a few minutes later, the intimately lit room was already packed with couples—vacationers out to have a good time in the warmth and buzz of the Caribbean. And there were single women too. They knew the players frequented this bar, knew there was music and drinks and the possibility of hooking up with a guy who could be a ticket to America. There were a few men on the hunt, Jake observed. A few locals mixed in with the businessmen out to ha
ve a good time with the local ladies.

  “Thirty kids this year,” Aderro crooned as Jake slid onto the leather-covered barstool next to him. “We could do more. Last year four of my boys got college scholarships.”

  He had every right to be proud, Jake thought. Every one of those boys had a better chance at making a good life for themselves and their families if they had an education to fall back on. If they didn’t make it to the majors. But no one wanted to talk about that. Dreams led. And didn’t he know.

  A band pounded out a lively Latin beat. Jake tapped his foot against the rung of the barstool, the rhythm curling into his blood, spicing the heat of the whiskey he downed in a few quick gulps. He’d heard the tune in the locker room, or maybe one like it. The Latin guys on the team always had music with them, on their earbuds or on portable speakers. He’d learned a few dance moves from them. He’d always loved dancing. Right up there with swinging the bat, running and sex.

  Aderro gestured toward a young player leading a woman onto the dance floor. “Did you see Mario’s swing yesterday?”

  “Hot bat. Needs to set up earlier and use his hands.”

  “He signed with the Dodgers. He’ll have a commercial soon, mark my words.”

  Jake snorted. “He’s twenty-one and already has his own personal logo—had it stitched into his shoes.”

  Aderro signaled the bartender and ordered a rum. “Times are changing.”

  “But the game isn’t. He’ll have to keep his head on him and stick to the basics.” Jake traced a finger around the rim of his glass. “What’s our plan for the rest of the week?”

  “Infield drills first, like this afternoon. Then hitting.” Aderro grinned. “That’s where you come in.”

  Jake laughed. Some of the kids in the program could grab line drives out of the air faster than a lizard catching mosquitoes. And their adeptness at snagging grounders had taught Jake a move or two. During the games on rubble-strewn lots, the young players in Dominia had learned the patterns that balls could take off the bats, even anticipate and catch the bad hops. Years of playing on the rough makeshift lots taught them more than any Major Leaguer ever could. But Jake could help them with their hitting. That was why he was there. Hitting was part science, part practice and heart.

  “I’ll do what I can for the week.” Jake paused. He wanted to ask Aderro about what he and Cameron had seen in the village, but he didn’t want to embarrass his friend. Poverty was a subject few people liked to discuss. Hell, what if someone asked Jake about the poverty he’d grown up in? Better to stick with hitting.

  “I thought I’d work with them on strength exercises, easy things they can do without equipment. Build up their glutes.” Jake ordered a second whiskey, straight. He’d never developed a taste for the rum of the islands. Too sweet and too smooth.

  “And don’t forget to mix in some words of wisdom about keeping their grades up and staying in school,” Aderro said, suddenly serious. “Mario told me we’ve had two dropouts since September.”

  The band blasted out a fast salsa as the bar filled with men and women out to have a good time, with people out to chase their dreams or to forget that they hadn’t achieved them.

  Jake grinned. “Yes, Grandpa.”

  Aderro was only four years older than Jake, but the knocks Aderro had taken while putting his life together made him seem much older. And maybe much wiser.

  “I thought I’d show them some shots of campuses after hitting practice, get the images in their minds and...”

  Aderro’s eyes tracked away from him and shifted to the entrance of the bar. The talk had stilled, and others were also staring.

  Jake twisted around to look over his shoulder.

  Cameron stood at the entrance in full-on movie star garb. A man in an expensive-looking suit stood next to her, like a sentry guarding a treasure. Jake had thought her beyond gorgeous in the casual clothes he’d seen her wear, but the silky red dress hugging her lush curves and the spiked gold heels that set off those long tanned legs made her look like a goddess. And when the guy in the suit crooked his arm and ushered her toward the dance floor, a familiar spark shot through Jake.

  The thrill of the chase.

  He hadn’t felt the pull of wanting a woman for a while. Had thought he’d been glad not to. But there was no ignoring the fire that shot into him as he watched Cameron and the man make their way between the dancers.

  She didn’t look his way; he’d be damned if he was going to let that irk him. But competition ran in his blood like oxygen, always had.

  He’d have her.

  Jake turned back to Aderro and tried to shove down the adrenaline rising in him. “I’ll do right by your boys. We’ll run the drills, look at the schools online and—”

  “Looks like your lady has found a new friend,” Aderro interrupted, a half smile quirking his lips.

  Aderro was a family man. Since signing with Boston, he’d flown back to the Bay Area every chance he could. And when school was out, he’d flown his family with him for the longer road trips. But that didn’t mean the guy had forgotten how hot blood could run.

  “She’s not my lady.” Not even close, Jake thought.

  “Not yet,” Aderro said with a nod to the dance floor. “We can talk kids and baseball later. I wouldn’t want to compete with that.”

  Jake downed the last of his second whiskey. He was a gambler. The odds were good that he could snag a dance with Cameron. But he had more in mind than just a dance.

  It was payback time.

  Cameron shimmied to the alluring rhythm of the salsa. And tried to keep her distance from the Assistant Minister of the Interior, who had lured her from the UNICAN dinner and into the bar. He had an idea, he’d said. But he hadn’t mentioned dancing. He was an excellent dancer. Did all Latin men have that rhythm hot-wired into their blood? But she should’ve just gone up to her room. She’d have to find a way to diplomatically ditch the minister.

  The glance she’d caught of Jake before he’d seen her hadn’t helped her nerves any. The linen shirt he wore only made the broad muscles under the finely woven fabric look like they’d been sculpted by a master.

  She’d tried not to think about him.

  About a hundred times in the last couple of hours.

  He was a boneheaded ballplayer, and he wasn’t going to help her. She suspected he was a playboy of the worst sort. She’d looked him up online. There hadn’t been much, but she could read between the lines. Any guy who looked like he did was a player.

  “I think this dance was promised to me.” Jake’s voice broke through her thoughts and brought the minister to a halt. Cameron nearly stepped on his feet, he’d stopped so fast.

  “Ryder,” the minister said, beaming. “Great hit in the Series,” he added over the sound of the band. “You down here to help the Estrellas take the title this winter?”

  Jake smiled, but Cameron knew his face well enough to see that it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Nope. Down here to chase pretty ladies. And this one has promised me a dance.”

  The minister laughed. His laugh told Cameron that she’d been handed off, like there was an unspoken pecking order and the minister had just lost. And she was the prize.

  She didn’t like it.

  Before she could protest, the minister walked off the dance floor and Jake took her in his arms, leading her into a dance. A dance that shouldn’t have felt so good. A dance that had her protests dissolving even as she fought to hold on to them.

  Jake’s hands were everywhere they needed to be to guide her to the pulsing beat of the music. His touch was light but searing. The fact that he held her only as close as the dance demanded, no more, no less, had her wanting more.

  Was she losing her mind? She’d sworn no more shiny men. He was a shiny man. The trouble was, he seemed to shine from the inside out. But she’d been fooled before.

  But Jake was no actor. His moves were as real as the floor beneath her feet. A floor that barely grounded her as his
hand, held gently—perfectly—at her waist, burned through the thin silk of her dress. But just as she told herself to relax, to stop overthinking—it was just a dance, after all—he tightened his grip, pressed his arm firmly around her waist and all but pushed her out the arched doorway leading to the patio outside the bar.

  “What are you doing?” she sputtered when he pressed her against the stone wall near a gurgling fountain.

  “Kidnapping you.”

  She didn’t have time to respond. His lips crushed hers, branding hot. Her traitorous body had her lips opening to the hottest kiss she’d ever felt. She was barely aware of him gliding his hand over the curve of her hip, trailing his fingers against the silk and cupping her bottom.

  When he broke off the kiss, she hauled in a shaky breath, and her sensible mind kicked in with it.

  “Let me go!”

  A slow smile curved into his lips. His eyes twinkled, and she resisted the urge to slap him. She wasn’t a drama queen and wouldn’t let him make her into one. Instead, she tried to dodge around him, but he was fast. Really fast.

  He blocked her with his body. His gorgeous body that she was unsuccessfully trying to ignore.

  “You won’t be getting past me. I was a tight end when I played football in high school. We were the state champs. No one gets by me. And like I told you, you owe me.”

  “I don’t pay debts with kisses.”

  “Well, then, it looks like you still owe me.”

  He grinned and reeled her in, and this time when he dipped down to kiss her, she didn’t resist. How could she? He kissed her with a tenderness that was far more irresistible than any show of force. His kiss captured her senses and melted into her body, a perfect kiss that felt like one she’d been waiting for her entire life. She slipped her fingers to the nape of his neck. The force of passion that she’d tamped down for longer than she could remember spread through her like hot honey melting in the sun, dissolving away time, worries, carefully held boundaries. A soft moan of pleasure sounded in her throat as he pulled her against the hard plane of his chest, deepened the kiss and sent her floating into a realm she hadn’t believed existed.