Payoff Pitch (Philadelphia Patriots)

by V. K. Sykes

  Ryan enjoyed hanging out at the Summer Moon during spring training. Shooting the breeze with other players and having a few brews helped him unwind after a game, and was usually good for a few laughs. There was an easy camaraderie that disappeared once the regular season got underway and the pressure started to ratchet up. And Ryan needed relaxation a lot more than usual. The gut-tightening tension that came from being showcased for a trade wasn’t going to fade until something happened, one way or the other.

  He gave it ten more minutes, but Taylor kept sneaking glances his way. Enough was enough, and it was time to confront the issue or drive himself crazy wondering what the hell she was up to.

  After draining the last of his beer, he got up. “See you guys later,” he told his tablemates. “I’ve gotta check something out.” He tossed a twenty onto the table. “That’s in case I don’t come back.”

  “Check something out? Like that blond hottie sitting at Ridge’s table?” Hornets’ pitcher Chance Baptiste said with an exaggerated leer. “The one that keeps giving you the look?”

  Baptiste obviously hadn’t recognized Taylor Page. Ryan wasn’t particularly surprised. Not everybody followed the comings and goings in baseball front offices—at least not as closely as he did. Then again, most players didn’t share his ultimate aim of moving into the executive suite himself. “Just thought I’d go say hello to that table for a minute,” he said casually.

  When he approached Ridge from behind and tapped him on the shoulder, his GM almost jumped, then twisted around. “What the fuck, Locke? Don’t sneak up on a guy like that. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  Taylor’s pretty pink mouth had dropped open when she figured out Ryan was heading straight for her table. She finally managed to snap it shut but her eyes were still rounded with surprise.

  “I didn’t think these lead feet of mine could sneak up on anything, Joe,” Ryan said, taking a relaxed stance. “You must have been so entranced by your beautiful friend that you couldn’t hear anything.”

  Ridge snorted, but Taylor’s lips curved into a suddenly welcoming smile—one that put Ryan on full alert.

  “Why don’t you introduce us, Joe?” she said in a voice that contained a tiny bit of hesitation and a whole lot of honey. “I recognize the gentleman, of course, but we’ve never met.”

  “Locke, this is Taylor Page. Taylor, Ryan Locke,” Ridge said in an oddly neutral voice. “Taylor’s a new AGM with the Patriots.”

  Ryan fixed his gaze on the woman, not Ridge. “I know exactly who Taylor Page is,” he said to her. He couldn’t tell for sure in the dim light, but he thought she blushed.

  “Well, I guess I should be flattered,” she said. “At least I hope so.”

  Her gaze drilled into him, as it had all night, but now it contained something playful, too, and Ryan found himself drawn in by it. Though he’d intended to ask her why she’d been visually stalking him all night, Ridge or no Ridge, the question died on his lips as he searched for a response.

  From a distance, he’d found her a total babe. From up close, Taylor Page took his breath away. She wasn’t model beautiful, by any means. Most models had huge, deer-in- the-headlight eyes, shampoo commercial hair, and cheekbones that looked carved out of polished marble, none of which applied to Taylor. But the woman was strikingly attractive, nonetheless. Her smooth, pale complexion and silky white-blond hair suggested her family had Nordic origins, as did the eyes that reminded him of a clear blue sky on a crisp fall morning. She wasn’t tall, but her curves were generous and her body looked toned and glowing with health.

  And although he tried to avoid staring at them, her breasts could only be called outstanding. Her pink, scoop-necked tee shirt revealed more than enough cleavage to get his hormones paying very close attention.

  “I keep up with what’s going on in the front offices,” he finally said with what he hoped was a casual shrug.

  Ridge gave him an off look before suddenly rising. “I’ve got a meeting tonight with our minor league staff so I’ve really got to get going. It was great seeing you again, Taylor. Let’s make sure we connect again sometime during the season.” He turned to Ryan. “And as for you, Locke, we’ll be taking care of the busted cooler. And the Gatorade,” he said with no trace of humor. “But you’ll be getting the bill.”

  Ryan tried to hold back a grin. “My little contribution to improving the facilities at Cal Torrance, boss,” he said in a solemn voice.

  Taylor held a hand to her mouth, clearly hiding a chuckle. “Thanks for dinner, Joe,” she said with a smile to the GM. “My turn next time.”

  “You’re on,” Ridge said with a wave.

  Ryan thought it a little weird that Ridge would just take off like that, meeting or no meeting, since he’d left Taylor all alone at the table. He wondered what she’d say if he suggested that she join him and Baptiste.

  Taylor raised her three-quarters full glass of beer. “Since I suddenly find myself bereft of a drinking partner, would you like to keep me company while I finish this, Ryan?”

  That sounded so much better than going back to drink with his teammates. “Why not?” he said, glancing over at Baptiste, who had a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “So, what did you think?” he said as he took Ridge’s seat and held up his index finger to Lucy, one of his regular servers. Lucy nodded an acknowledgement of his usual order.

  Taylor arched her elegant brows. “What did I think about what?”

  “About how I played today, or was I just fantasizing about you checking me out?” Taylor’s lips formed a startled little “O”. Ryan found it cute has hell.

  “Ah, fantasizing?” she said. “Such an interesting choice of words.” Though her face gave little away, her eyes gleamed with interest. At least it sure looked that way to him.

  “You mind if I call you Taylor? Though I suppose it really ought to be Ms. Page, or maybe ma’am. What with you being a big time senior executive and all.”

  She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Taylor will do. Formality might give me a swelled head. I suspect you aren’t about to entertain the possibility that a baseball executive might not have an inflated ego.”

  Ryan laughed. “Like players don’t?”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  She hadn’t taken a sip of her beer yet. Maybe she thought it was impolite to drink while he was still waiting to be served. Taylor did seem like a class act, and spoke like she’d probably graduated from some fancy schools. They hadn’t taught him to talk like that at his Jacksonville high school.

  It sure wouldn’t be a chore chatting with her all night, but not unless he got what was bugging him off his chest. “I really handed you guys a cheap win today, didn’t I?”

  Okay, so tell me what you think of my arm.

  She gave a shake of her head, enough so that her fine hair brushed her cheeks. “It was just one play in a meaningless game. And I must say I found your assault on the big cooler to be rather charming in its youthful vigor.” She pursed her lips in a sweet gesture that seemed to mock and commiserate at the same time. Her easy charm could suck even the most hardened cynic right in.

  “Instant stress relief,” he joked. “But are you going to answer my question? Were you scouting me today or not?”

  She hesitated then said, “Given that the Hornets left you out there for the full nine innings, it would be my guess that there were more than likely quite a few people scouting you today.”

  Huh. Talk about a non-answer.

  Maybe she’d just been staring at him at the batting cage because she liked the look of his ass in a uniform. Yeah, that’s it.

  He decided to take a different tack. “Did Ridge tell you I was on the trading block?”

  Lucy thumped a Jai Alai IPA on the table, giving him a knowing look. She probably thought he was finally about to score tonight for once, instead of sticking close to his buddies as usual.

  Taylor’s poker face was thoroughly in place. “You know I can’t answer a questi
on like that. But I will say that Joe and I go back a long way.”

  “Listen, Taylor, I’m not blind and I’m not stupid.” He took a long draft from his bottle, making her wait. “I can figure out when I’m about to be screwed,” he finished in a hard voice.

  She looked down, twisting the ring on her right hand, one with some big gemstone in a bluish purple shade. “Then let me ask you a hypothetical question, Ryan, if I may. If you were put up for trade, where would you like to end up?” She unleashed another bone- melting smile in his direction. “Obviously, you’ll have a say in the matter since you’ve got five and ten status.”

  Five and ten status, meaning players with at least ten years in the major leagues and five consecutive years with their current team. Under baseball’s rules, those players could only be traded with their consent.

  Hypothetical, my ass.

  “A say? Not much of a one,” Ryan replied curtly. “You know a guy in my position can’t dictate terms. Not many teams are going to want me, given my recent, shall we say, defensive challenges. And if I refuse to be traded at all, the team would just make me ride the bench and then dump me at the end of my contract. By that time, I’d be so rusted out nobody would want me anymore. You know that’s how it works as well as I do.”

  She pressed her lips inward, lowering her gaze ever so slightly. She knew he was right. The best he could bargain would be to get the Hornets to make a deal with some other team he could live with. New York, Boston, Cleveland, Baltimore—pretty much anybody in the AL other than the west coast teams or Texas would probably fit the bill. And even that would be a tough go for him and his agent to pull off.

  Taylor raised her lovely blue eyes again. “Still, you must have some definite preferences, and I’m sure you’ll make them known.”

  Ryan narrowed his eyes, as if doing so could help him see into her brain. She had to be trying in a roundabout way to sound him out about going to Philadelphia. Actually, everything being equal, he’d love to play in Philly—it was close to home, close to Devon’s school, and a great city with appreciative and loyal baseball fans. There was one big problem—there was no American League team in Philadelphia.

  “Hell, yeah,” he answered, deciding to play along for the moment. Although not the most pleasant topic, he had no desire to break off the conversation. Taylor Page was easy to talk to and even easier to look at. His eyes had taken in every inch of her flawless skin and had dipped a little south several times—too many times, really, which probably made him a sexist asshole—to that tantalizing cleavage of hers. But any healthy male under the age of eighty would have a hard time keeping his eyes off those sweet assets all night. He’d only ever seen her in business attire, and her filmy, sexy top had revealed a surprisingly lush figure.

  “And?” she prompted.

  “If I can’t stay in Pittsburgh, I only want to go to another team in the northeast. For obvious reasons, it’s got to be an AL team.”

  Taylor’s brows arched. “Are you sure they’re so obvious?” She sipped at her beer for the first time since he sat down.

  “Are you kidding me?” he asked incredulously. “With the way I play defense these days?”

  Oh, Jesus. The Patriots really must be interested in me. Ryan had a sick feeling in his gut, even though he couldn`t imagine why they`d want him.

  “Besides,” he continued, “there’s no reason I couldn’t DH for another six or seven years with an AL team.”

  Taylor blinked once and her mouth twisted a little, as if she’d had a momentary stab of pain. Ryan got the feeling she didn’t like his answer, and that spiked his concern.

  “Sure, you’ve got some challenges on defense because of all those injuries,” she said with an argumentative note to her honey-toned voice. “That’s common knowledge. But you’re as good at the plate now as you’ve ever been. You’re a solid run producer, and you’ve got a lot of baseball left in you, as far as I can see.”

  Ryan mentally blinked. Hell, the woman sure knew how to butter up a guy who was feeling down. Though Taylor was only stating what was clear to anybody from his stats, somehow when the words came from that lovely, earnest face they sounded sincere and penetrated deep.

  But he shook away the moment of unfurling pleasure. What was she up to, anyway? What message was she sending him? None of it seemed to be making much sense.

  To read more books by VK Sykes, please click here.

  - About the Author -

  V.K. Sykes is really two people – Vanessa Kelly and Randy Sykes, a husband and wife team who write USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance and also romantic suspense. Randy excels at plot and characterization, but tends to fall down on the job when it comes to that pesky old thing called emotion. That’s where Vanessa steps in. She usually writes the sex scenes too, since Randy is a bit uncomfortable when it comes to that sort of stuff. Vanessa also writes award-winning Regency-set historical romance for Kensington Zebra under her own name. You can check out Vanessa’s bestselling historical romances at www.vanessakellyauthor.com.

  And please visit V.K. Sykes at www.vksykes.com for a complete list of books.