by Jamie Pope
Except for yesterday, when they had shared breakfast. Yesterday they had shared a lot more than just a couple of meals. She’d told him that things would have to go back to normal. That he would go back to being her boss and she his employee. It was the right thing to do. Right for her professionalism. Her career and her sanity. Having an affair with an athlete while working on his house was just the sort of thing she would do. It was the sort of thing her mother expected her to do. She had to prove her mother wrong.
She couldn’t give into that temptation, even though Carlos made her body tingle with desire every time he came near her.
“Good morning.” He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her neck. He’d tried to get her to go to bed with him last night, but she’d refused. He hadn’t pushed her on the subject and she was grateful for that because she knew she probably wouldn’t have been able to tell him no more than once.
He had been so good to her yesterday. The horseback riding, the kayaking, listening to her while she talked. That alone would have made the day perfect. He’d taken her into town when she knew it made him uneasy, buying her paint, encouraging her to do what she loved again.
Four people had asked him about his injury yesterday. Four reminders of his loss, four expressions of concern, four disappointed faces when he couldn’t give them good news. He hadn’t had to go through that. He hadn’t had to go into store after store in search of paint just for her. He had spent the entire day making sure she felt special. She’d just wanted to end the day making him happy. She’d wanted to give back to him before they returned to the way things were. But it had backfired because she had gone to bed unsatisfied, only wanting him more.
“Good morning,” she returned his greeting as he kissed down the side of her throat. Her eyes drifted shut and she lost track of what she was going to say. “Want a smoothie?” She turned away from him and switched on the blender, hoping that would distract him.
“No.” It didn’t. He spun her in his arms and kissed the seam of her neck.
“A smoothie won’t satisfy you? I can make you some scrambled eggs,” she said, her voice getting higher as her arousal grew. “I can put cheese in them. Onions. Whatever you want.”
He removed his lips from her skin and looked into her eyes with those beautiful dark green ones he had. “You don’t have to feed me, but I am hungry for something that only you can give.”
He took her mouth then, in a slow, deep kiss that was so hot it curled her toes. She didn’t want to stop him. Never had she been kissed like that, with such thoroughness, with such passion. This kiss made all the other kisses in her life invalid, incomparable to his. And she knew that for the rest of her life she would never know another man who could make her feel like this with just the touch of his lips.
“Carlos.” She broke the kiss and cupped his face in her hands. “What the hell are you doing to me?” She kissed him this time, but with soft, sweeter pecks instead of deep kisses.
“It’s not what I’m doing to you. It’s what I want to do to you.”
Resting her chin on his shoulder, she hugged him tightly. She didn’t know what to say to that. But she knew she could fall in love with him. She knew she was the type of woman who could fall easily, but with him it would be different. With him she would fall harder, faster, deeper, irrevocably, and she wasn’t sure her heart was strong enough for that. Because she knew he would get better, that whatever wound was inside him would heal and he would go back to his life as the future legend, the baseball player the world loved so much. And she would go back to her regular life. There would be no space in his life for her, and she was okay with that, but she knew it would hurt. She’d been disappointed when her last boyfriend had left, her pride wounded, but she wasn’t hurt. She knew loving Carlos Bradley and then losing him would hurt.
The doorbell rang, alerting her that the painters were there, that her workday was starting. “I’ve got to go to work, Carlos.”
He sighed. “Okay, Virginia. I’ll see you later.”
* * *
A week had gone by. A week of Virginia avoiding him, skirting away whenever he came near, a week of her only speaking of business matters, a week of him eating, sleeping and being without her, and he was sick of it. There were a couple of brief moments when he had caught her alone, caught her with her guard down, when she’d let him touch her, then kiss her until they both were breathless.
She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. There was no denying it. He could feel it in how she reacted to his kisses. Feel it in how she kissed him back, in how she looked at him and touched him. He had had chemistry with other women, but what he felt with her was more; it was deeper and it made him want her so badly he ached because of it. He hurt with need for her.
He went downstairs in search of her just as the sun was beginning to set. The workers usually left at five, and he knew that once they were gone she was his for the entire night. And she would be his. He didn’t want to hear any more excuses. There was no denying it. No use in putting it off any longer.
What she had said to him stuck in his mind. That he only wanted her because she was the only one around, because she was convenient. But that wasn’t true.
He had never been with a woman like her. Not one who looked like her. Or talked like her. Or acted like her.
But the truth was, no woman made him want her like this.
He found her in the kitchen icing a cake. She glanced up at him. “You wearing that tonight?”
He looked down at himself in his gray Hammerheads T-shirt and basketball shorts. “Is there a dress code for my own house that I don’t know about?”
“No. But we are going to that party that Edith invited us to.”
“Edith?”
“The woman we met in the store last week. The one who is throwing a party in your honor at the community center.”
Shit.
“I forgot all about that.” The little woman had forced the invitation on them. He didn’t want to go. He hadn’t planned on going, and that night Virginia had gone down on her knees before him and thoughts of that little party had drifted completely from his mind.
“You thought I was making this cake for you?”
“I got a little excited when I walked in here and saw, but then again, I have that reaction every time I come near you.”
“Ooh.” She smiled shyly at him. “You’re a smooth player, aren’t you?”
“You bring it out in me.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Go get dressed. We have to leave here in a half hour if we are going to be on time.”
“I’m not going.”
“What?” She dropped the spoon she was holding. “You have to go. This party is in your honor.”
“I don’t want to be honored. I specifically told Mr. Golden Boy Mayor that I didn’t want anyone to know that I had given any money. Doesn’t the Bible say that you’re supposed to give to others without the expectation of reward or praise?”
“‘Sound no trumpet before you,’” she said softly. “But they want to give you this party to give back to you. The whole island is going to be there. It will make them feel good.”
The whole island?
He shook his head, the unease in his chest growing. He wasn’t one of those people who liked being famous. He had been good at what he did, and the fame came along with that. Giving had been a part of his upbringing. He gave because it was the right thing to do.
“I don’t want to be honored in front of all those people.” He didn’t want to be asked about his injury. He didn’t want to be asked when he was going back. He didn’t want to hear the disappointment about the team not making the playoffs this year. It made him feel as though it was all his fault. If he had watched the way he landed. If he had rested more after surgery. If he had just done something different
he wouldn’t be here; he wouldn’t have to face a whole state’s disappointment. “I’m not going.”
“If you would have canceled at any point this past week I could understand, but now it’s too late. We’re supposed to be there soon and a lot of people went through a lot of trouble to do this for you.”
“But I didn’t ask them to!”
“No. You didn’t. It’s just a little party on a little island full of people who are grateful that they are going to have a home again. I know you don’t want to face them. I know you don’t want to be asked about your career or what’s next, but the truth is, you can’t hide out here forever. You can’t avoid the future and you are going to have to figure out what happens if there is no baseball. The questions are never going to stop and you can’t spend forever here living half a life and avoiding the people who made you who you are.”
She stepped from behind the counter. She was right. He knew she was right, but it still made him mad as hell. Who was she to order him around? Who was she to point out what he already knew?
She stopped before him and wrapped her arms around his middle, diffusing some of his anger before he got the chance to say anything to her. “We only have to stay for an hour or so. Just a little while to let them know they haven’t gone out of their way for nothing.”
He said nothing, feeling his jaw clench so tightly it hurt.
“I’ll owe you,” she said softly. “Anything you want.”
“Anything I want?” He grasped her chin and lifted it so that she could look into his eyes. “I’ll go, but I’m collecting on my debt when we return and it’s nonnegotiable.”
* * *
There were dozens of cars at the community center when they arrived. Even Virginia hadn’t realized how big a deal this was going to be until the day before, when she had overheard the tile guys talking about it. They were excited about the event, excited to see Carlos, because even though they worked in his house they never saw much of him. She should have warned him about it, about how this little party was turning into a bigger event for the island. But she couldn’t bring herself to go to him, to put herself in his space, because she knew if she did, she would end up with his mouth on hers and his hands on her body. She was growing weaker when it came to him. It was bad enough that he plagued her thoughts, but when he was in the room with her she became magnetized, her body pulled toward his, and it would be too hard to break away from him without force.
But now she walked in with him, her arm looped with his, her body close to his tight one. He was angry. He was mad as hell at her, at the world, and he hadn’t said a word to her since they left the house. But she had dressed for him. She hated to admit it, but she had put on a red dress that was just a little tighter and shorter than the rest of the ones she owned. She’d left her hair down and loose, putting product in it to stretch her curls and make them extra shiny. She wore heels, too. The highest ones she had brought with her that made her legs look sky-high and did things to her behind that she knew he would enjoy.
And he had enjoyed. When she met him in the foyer, his eyes had pored over her. They’d been hot. She’d seen the want in them, and the way he’d looked at her had made her nipples tighten with anticipation.
She’d promised him a favor. No questions asked, and she knew that favor would be her body. She wanted him, too. Her mother be damned. This job be damned. She knew that this night wasn’t going to be easy for him. It was his first public appearance since he’d been told he couldn’t play this season. She’d hoped that her short dress would be distracting. But she had hoped too much.
As soon as they walked in and saw the huge picture of Carlos sitting on an easel, she felt his body grow even tighter than before. “You look good in that picture,” she told him. “Almost every picture I take my eyes are either crossed or closed, and I look as though something smells funny.”
He looked down at her but didn’t say anything.
They walked in farther, and she was relieved to see that everyone was in their best clothes. She had wanted to wear something special for him tonight, but she was glad to see she wasn’t the only one in a dress while everyone else was in jeans. “You look handsome tonight, too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything with buttons on it. Wasn’t sure you owned anything like that.”
“Please stop talking, Virginia.”
She nodded, shutting her mouth as he led her into the building. There was a stage with a band on it. She recognized one of the painters as the drummer. They had decorated. White and gray and black balloons were everywhere. Hammerhead colors.
Food had been laid out on a long table in the back of the room. It looked like a potluck—mismatched plates and casserole dishes filled with finger foods and home-baked goods.
“I forgot the cake!” She looked up at him. “You should have reminded me.”
Again he said nothing, and she saw Derek cross the room toward them. He was smiling, looking really good in a fitted blazer, button-down and jeans, but she could tell he was slightly embarrassed by it all.
“I’m sorry, man,” he said to Carlos. “I told my aunt not to do this. She told me I wasn’t the boss of her, which I am because I’m the mayor.” He shook his head. “But I’m sorry. I warned everyone to keep their cool tonight. I half expected you not to show up. I know I might have run the other way, had I known what they were planning.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Carlos said. There was no feeling in his voice, no angry look on his face, which might fool the rest of them, but she knew how unhappy he was.
“Miss Virginia.” Derek turned his attention to her. “You look amazing tonight. I know a lot of men aren’t going to be able to keep their eyes off the lady in the red dress.”
“Why, thank you, sir. You’re looking pretty good yourself.”
“Where’s the bar?” Carlos asked, and it was then she could hear the annoyance in his voice and she remembered that Carlos had marked her as his territory.
“It’s a cash bar, sorry. Let me get your first drink. I’m sure people here will be buying them for you all night.” He quickly walked away from them.
Then it started. A little boy came up to him. He was probably eight or nine years old, and there was awe and hope all over his face.
Carlos was pissed, but Virginia prayed that he would be kind to the boy. There was nothing worse than meeting your hero and being disappointed.
“Hello, sir,” he said. “I’m in Little League just like you were, and I was wondering if I could shake your hand.”
“Only if you can tell me the sixteenth president of the United States.”
The boy scrunched his face. “Lincoln?”
Carlos extended his hand and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, son.”
* * *
Thank God for children. That night Carlos surrounded himself with them. And there were plenty of them there. Lots of little ball players, both boys and girls, had taken all of his attention away from the adults. He was relieved. There was no pressure with the kids. They were fun. Peppering him with questions, asking his advice. He enjoyed them. He was actually glad he had come. He worked with a lot of children’s charities but he hadn’t worked with a lot of kids. It was something he would like to do more often.
They ended up heading outside, where an impromptu game of baseball had broken out, and it was there that a twelve-year-old girl struck out every single kid and adult that she had pitched to. Imani Haymore had talent, but the island was so small that there wasn’t a team at her level. She had to go off island and travel all over just to play, which was difficult for her parents and time consuming. Some college team had better scoop her up, but if they didn’t, Carlos would pay for her to go to school. The kid was good. She would go far if somebody gave her the right push.
“Imani,” he called to her after the game was done. She trotted ove
r to him, still wearing the dress she had been in all evening.
“Yes, sir?”
“You’re excellent. You struck everyone out.”
“Not you. Now, that would have been something to tell people,” she said with just a little bit of sass that made him like her even more.
“You know what my boys on the team would have said to me if I let a girl who isn’t even a teenager yet strike me out? I had to get a hit.”
She grinned at him. “I understand.”
“Listen.” He pulled a card out of his pocket. “Give this to your parents and have them call me. I would like to discuss your future with them.”
“Really?” She seemed surprised. “There’s not even a softball team here.”
“That’s what I want to talk about. We’ve got to figure something out to keep you in shape.”
“Thanks!”
She ran off and Carlos headed inside. They had been there for over two hours. It was enough. He’d had a good time with the kids, but it was enough for him and he was ready to go home. Virginia crossed his mind. She was wearing a red dress. He wanted to thank whoever had made that red dress, and thank her mother for giving her that body to put in that red dress. Because she looked that good tonight. All those soft curves and that lush body wrapped in one fiery package.
The band was playing a slow jam. The lights were dim, couples were dancing close together and that was when he saw Virginia with Derek, her arms looped around his neck, her lips curled into a wide smile. They looked as if they belonged together. As if they were together, but they weren’t. And everything in his body screamed out that she was his.
But she wasn’t. She didn’t belong to him, and Derek was a good guy. He liked art. He liked to help people. They had a lot in common. He was stable and driven and knew what he wanted out of life. Carlos had money. He had fame. He had the power to get things done, but none of that was what Virginia wanted.
