Finally the mayor stalked to the window and wrenched it open, allowing the fly to escape and a rush of warm air to enter the room. “Meetings all day, and the only thing anyone in this town wants to talk about is the Kilby Catfish.” She slammed the window shut, making Sadie wince on behalf of the old glass.
The mayor lowered herself into her chair and crossed one leg over the other, her gray suit revealing a peek of her knee.
“People always like talking about the Catfish. They have a knack for getting themselves in the news.”
The mayor gave her a sharp look. Apparently her stress level had graduated from finger-drumming to pen-tapping. Sadie watched her gold Cross pen bounce on the polished surface of her desk with metronomelike precision.
“We’re going to have to put the Sluggers for Slugs initiative on hold.”
Sadie nodded, already resigned to that. Among the worries facing her, that particular one ranked very low.
“I’ve already received several calls from the Ladies’ Auxiliary. Let’s just say that the Can the Catfish campaign has received a big boost. Luckily, that’s not my problem, it’s Crush Taylor’s.” A smile touched her lips.
“Have you spoken with him yet?”
“Not precisely.”
Sadie lifted her eyebrows. The mayor looked as though she’d swallowed a dish of ice cream. “I did leave a message for him expressing my heartfelt sympathy for this embarrassing situation.”
Mischief gleamed in her perfect eyes. For the hundredth time, Sadie wondered what was really going on between the mayor and the baseball legend. As far as she knew, her boss was single. Occasionally she attended official events with Drake Hannigan, a well-known local lawyer. But she’d never witnessed so much as a kiss on the cheek between them. And Drake never got Mayor Trent rattled the way Crush did.
The mayor’s fleeting expression of amusement vanished. “But this is a serious dilemma for us. I had my doubts about associating with the Catfish, given their history, but I never imagined things would get this bad. We have to do whatever we can to disassociate this office from the team. I debated putting out a press release cancelling Sluggers for Slugs, but I think it’s best for the campaign to quietly die out. We don’t need to mention it. If anyone asks, we’re putting it on hold until the ongoing legal case is settled. Let Brett Carlisle know.” She waved at Sadie’s notepad.
Sadie scribbled a notation—Call Brett—but her mind wasn’t on what she was doing. “It’s not like the Catfish themselves have done anything wrong,” she pointed out. “Bingo Hartwell isn’t a member of the team.”
“Close enough. Besides, the way I read Brown’s article, his son is one step from being indicted himself.”
Sadie’s stomach twisted. “That’s just speculation. Caleb didn’t do anything wrong.”
The mayor fixed her with a stern look. “Now Sadie, don’t make the classic mistake of thinking that a set of six-pack abs make the man. You should judge people by their actions, not their physiques.”
“I am.” A slow wave of outrage gave her courage. In most things, she bowed down to Mayor Trent. But in this instance her boss had it all wrong. “His abs have nothing to do with it. He’s a good person. He’s been taking care of his brothers and sister since his father went to jail. He was only nineteen when it happened.”
The mayor narrowed her eyes. “It sounds like you two have become pretty close.”
“Close enough so I know he didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Sadie. What did we talk about? You were supposed to keep a low profile and do nothing to embarrass this office.”
“Embarrass this office?” Sadie made an agitated movement that knocked her notebook to the floor. She stooped to pick it up, using the moment to collect herself. Taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet. “What about not rushing to judgment? What about not assuming the worst about someone because people are spreading vicious lies about them?”
“Do you hear yourself, Sadie? Sit down.”
Despite the mayor’s imperious gesture, Sadie refused to take her seat. The emotions that had sparked that impetuous speech still coursed through her system. Vicious lies. They were vicious lies, and she couldn’t stand by and let Caleb be hurt by them.
The mayor’s voice gained a steely edge. “I went out on a limb hiring you, Sadie Merritt. Don’t make me lose my faith in you.”
“Don’t make me lose my faith in you!” Oh my God, what was she saying? “You’re jumping to conclusions and not waiting to hear all the facts.”
The mayor slapped a hand onto her desk. “I’m not a judge. I’m a mayor with a political future to protect.”
“And Caleb Hart is just collateral damage to you?”
“What is he to you, Sadie? That’s what I want to know.”
Sadie dropped her gaze to the polished wood-plank floor, where the afternoon sunlight caught a few dancing motes of dust. “My personal life isn’t your business.”
“I hired you despite your personal life. If your personal life causes trouble for me, it very much is my business. Welcome to politics, Sadie.”
Politics. Politics! “It’s not politics, it’s gossip.”
“It’s a fine line sometimes. Now what are you going to do about this? You have a choice to make here, Sadie. Choose correctly. Now go give Brett Carlisle a heads-up about my decision.” The mayor gave her a gesture of dismissal and turned back to her computer.
Sadie dragged herself across the office. Everything about this situation felt unfair. But when was anything fair? At the door, she turned back. Even though the mayor faced her computer, already focusing on the next task, she had to say her piece.
“What Hamilton did to me was horrible. I thought you were standing up for me when you hired me, and I was really grateful. I still am. But that doesn’t mean I did anything wrong. I know you went out on a limb to hire me. But you shouldn’t have had to, and you can’t blame me for that.” Was this making any sense at all? The mayor’s head still hadn’t moved in her direction. She looked like a marble statue, hands poised on her keyboard: The Typist.
Sadie tried again. “I’m overeducated and overqualified, and I’ve done this job better than anyone who’s ever had it. Shouldn’t that be the important thing, not how some messed-up ex-boyfriend violated my privacy?”
Still no response from the mayor. Sadie’s shoulders slumped and she stepped out of her boss’s office, closing the door behind her.
She made the call to Brett Carlisle, who expressed massive disappointment that they couldn’t use the sudden media spotlight for the benefit of the slugs.
“Come on, Sadie. We can make this work. We’ll change the name. ‘Sinners for Slugs,’ what about that? Gambling’s one of the deadly sins, right? I kinda zoned out in Sunday school.”
“The sad thing is, I don’t think you’re kidding.”
“Scammers for Slugs?”
“Why don’t you try ‘Stoners for Slugs’? That would be pretty accurate.” She slammed down the phone, ignoring Brett’s gales of laughter.
And suddenly she couldn’t stand to be away from Caleb one more minute. Not one more. He needed her. She knew it, on some sort of molecular level that blocked out the voice of reason, the memory of that key toss. And she needed to see him, to drink him in, to make sure he was okay.
She sent Mayor Trent a quick e-mail—I need to leave early today—but didn’t wait for a response before dashing out the door.
Ten minutes later she screeched to a halt behind Caleb’s Jeep and raced pell-mell up the steps. What if he wouldn’t open the door? What if he really, truly didn’t want to see her? She couldn’t think about that now. She was here, and she wasn’t leaving.
When he opened the door the barest crack, his face set in wary, exhausted lines, her heart nearly broke for him. He showed no reaction to the sight of her, other than a flicker of surprise in his steel-blue eyes. His physical presence nearly overwhelmed her, even through the narrow gap provided by the barely open door.
She thrust her hand against the door to keep it open, just in case he was considering shutting her out again.
“Caleb, listen to me. I’m here because I love you and I can’t bear for you to go through this alone. But it’s not just that. When Hamilton started his smear campaign against me, no one gave me the benefit of the doubt, except Donna. It was easy for people to think the worst. They wanted to, because it was convenient and it gave them a reason to suck up to the Wades.”
She paused to draw in a necessary lungful of air. Her heart was beating so rapidly she could barely talk. Caleb’s stony expression gave her no clues about his thoughts. Maybe this was a mistake.
Too late to stop now.
“I swore that I would never do that to anyone. I’d never leave them twisting in the wind with no support. I’d never assume something was true just because everyone was saying it. That’s why I want to go to law school. To fight against that kind of thinking. So what I’m saying is . . .”
Wait. What was she saying, exactly? Whatever it was, she needed to figure it out fast, because Caleb had the funniest look on his face now.
“I need to be here with you. I need it for my own self-respect. It’s not just because I love you, though I do, and I really wish you’d show maybe some tiny piece of a reaction when I say it. Just a little . . .” She pinched two fingers together to show just how little would satisfy her. “But that’s okay, we can talk about that some other time. Or not. We don’t have to. That’s a tangent, really, and I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, except that—”
But Caleb saved her from finishing her sentence by hauling her against his body and sealing his mouth to hers.
Chapter 23
FOR A MAN who’d been through hell, Sadie in his arms came as close to heaven as Caleb ever expected to get. He devoured her sweet mouth, swallowing the murmurs that might have been more conversation. He didn’t want more conversation. He got her point. He appreciated it. But right now he wanted her. In his arms, in his bed.
He kicked the front door shut behind her, thanking his lucky stars that the reporters had just left. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her into his bedroom. His bed looked like the lair of a deranged bear, with its tangled sheets and rat’s nest of blankets. He hadn’t slept worth a damn since Bingo’s arrest. He set Sadie on her feet and brushed an empty bag of chips off the end of the bed.
“I don’t care about that,” Sadie said, tugging his arm. “I don’t care if we do it in a Dumpster. I just want you.”
“You got me,” he said roughly, tossing her onto the bed. “Be careful what you wish for,” he added with a wink. “I might ravage you until you come to your senses.”
“I dare you to try.” She was wearing a blue short-sleeved sweater, very demure and proper, which she whipped off her body and tossed over the little TV that sat on his dresser. Underneath, she wore a sort of camisole that pushed her breasts together. His hands itched to touch them. He prowled toward her like a beast about to feed on his prey. Her pupils expanded, turning her eyes dark and desirous.
She spread her legs apart, so her flowery skirt rode up on her thighs. The contrast between her good-girl outfit and her come-hither manner just about drove him crazy. And—she still had her cowboy boots on.
Heaven, for sure.
He fell onto the bed, on his knees, as a goddess deserved. He reached under her skirt and pulled off her panties, desperate for a glance at the sweet triangle he craved. For a moment he feasted his eyes on the delicate patch of hair, the shadowed grove of soft, mysterious flesh. No matter how many times he made love to Sadie, he would always want her, always want more. Grasping her fine-boned thighs just above the knees, he pulled her toward him so her long legs were positioned on either side of him, her sex open before him.
“If I don’t have you this second, I think I might die,” he muttered.
She sat, pressing her chest against his, so they were heart-to-heart. With her arms and legs wrapped around him, he felt surrounded by her smooth skin. The scent of her perfume drifted from the hot skin of her neck, like wild strawberries in the sun. It took only a second to slip his cock inside her, for her inner heat to claim him.
“Sweet Sadie,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do,” she said fiercely, nipping at his earlobe and working her hips to get him deeper within her. “We both deserve this. Forget the rest of the world. This is about me and you, Caleb. Screw everyone else.”
He snorted; Sadie never used profanity like that. She must really mean what she said.
“You heard me.” He felt her laughter as a vibration against his chest. Spreading his hands across her back, so narrow he could nearly span the width of her rib cage, he flexed his hips, going deeper.
He let out a groan, the sound drenched with equal parts anticipation and satisfaction. This was what he’d been craving, and he hadn’t even known it. Sinking into Sadie’s sweet heat was the only cure he needed. He pumped his hips, gripping her ass to angle her just so. She squirmed desperately against him, seeking something more.
He knew his Sadie, knew how much she liked friction against her clit. He snuck his palm between their bodies, where an ovenlike heat was developing. There it was, that plump little kernel begging for his touch. So juicy his mouth watered. He locked his hand into place, ignoring the pull on his wrist, letting the motion of their two bodies rocking against each other provide the pressure she needed.
He thrust deeper, feeling everything else fall away. Pleasure flooded his brain. He dragged her even closer against him, so they were sealed tight, impossible to peel apart. Her ragged breaths urged him onward, the pressure built in his spine, he wanted to come, but not yet . . . not until Sadie’s body tightened around him, not until she threw her head back and wailed . . . Then he slipped the leash and detonated, soaring into a place where all was pleasure and no one would ever hurt them.
Sadie made him dinner. It was the cutest thing, because he had no ingredients for food in the house. He sat at the kitchen table and watched her like a puppy as she retrieved a can of tomato paste, some Ramen noodle soup, and a jar of pickles from his cupboards. The refrigerator yielded eggs and Miracle Whip.
“How do you live?”
“They feed us dinner at the ballpark.” Of course, that didn’t apply to him anymore. “I do better than most guys. They don’t pay minor leaguers for shit, so you’ll see guys living on mashed potatoes and whatever they can scrounge up at the restaurants that sponsor the team.”
She whipped up an omelet with a filling of chopped pickles in mayo. “This looks like one of my mother’s specialties. Anything with Miracle Whip makes her happy.”
“Hard to disagree.” He took a bite, suddenly starving. He’d forgotten about eating, which was pretty unusual for an active ballplayer. “Not bad.”
“Once you finish that, the soup will be ready.”
“You don’t have to baby me.” But it felt so good, having her hovering over him, tending to him.
“You have a funny definition of babying.” She quirked her butt at him, which made his eyes glaze slightly. After sex, she’d pulled on a pair of his boxers, which now hung low on her hip bones. He eyed the opening designed for the penis to exit. He could just slide his cock right in through that slit, take her right there on the kitchen counter . . .
“Eat your food,” she said sternly, hands on her hips. “You need to stay nourished.”
“Yes, I do.” He leered at her. “I’m going to need lots of energy to keep up with you.”
She made a face at him. “I didn’t come here for a sex marathon.”
“What? All I heard was sex marathon. And I’m all for it.”
“Caleb, be serious. You have to take care of yourself. When you opened the door, I nearly cried. You looked terrible.”
He launched into the patented Hartwell grin, guaranteed to put stars in girls’ eyes. “Look at me now. All better?”
From her spot at the stove
, she peered at him, then blinked. “Now, that’s just not fair.”
He laughed, feeling on top of the world. “Dr. Sadie knows what she’s doing.”
“Seriously, Caleb. We need to talk.” She poured the soup from the pot into a bowl, since he had nothing resembling a ladle. “All I know is what the papers are saying, and I don’t trust a word of it. Not even what Burwell Brown is writing. This is one of the stories where people seem to forget the whole concept of journalistic ethics.”
“Was it like that for you?” he asked as she carefully brought him the bowl. “With Hamilton?”
“I didn’t make the papers, but it’s the same idea. People just say anything and everything because it’s so juicy. It’s almost like they can’t help it.”
He blew on a spoonful of Ramen soup, which she’d thickened with the tomato paste and spiced with packets of salt and pepper left from a bag of takeout. “That must have been rough. I wish I’d been here then. I would have kicked some ass.”
She shuddered. “I’m glad you weren’t. Anyway, you wouldn’t have met me. I mostly stayed in my room for about six months. Even that wasn’t safe because I had a computer and I couldn’t make myself stay off Facebook. I’d avoid it for about a week, but then I’d start wondering what disgusting thing he’d come up with next, and what was being said, and if anyone was making him stop. And I’d go online and get sick all over again.”
He put his spoon down, suddenly unable to stomach food. The thought of her going through that experience alone made him ill.
“Don’t look like that,” she said quickly, sitting down next to him and rubbing her cheek against his shoulder like a cat. “I’m fine. It’s behind me now. And I’m a lot stronger. Do you know what made me decide to stop hiding in my room and go look for a job? Besides, you know, needing to pay some bills and getting pretty bored and pissed off?”
He managed a smile. “What?”
“You’re going to laugh.”
“Good. I could use a laugh. What?” At her insistent gesture, he took a sip of his soup. Not bad.
All of Me Page 24
