Thrown by Love

by Pamela Aares

  “You surprise me, Mr. Halliman,” Chloe said as she sank into the chair beside Mike. “I thought we’d made it clear that we weren’t interested in your offer.”

  “I’m sorry to bring rotten news,” Halliman said, “but I think there’s a way to turn all this around.”

  All what? Chloe wondered as she darted a look at Mike. But Mike just nodded to Halliman.

  “Your man, Fisher, approached me with a pretty unsavory deal,” Halliman said. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I like deals. But not bad ones. I think there probably is a God, and I’d like to have a good score in the end when I meet up with him.”

  “Fisher’s not my man, Mr. Halliman.”

  “So Mr. Thomas tells me.” Halliman leaned forward and pressed his palms on his knees. “Fisher approached me a few days ago. Though he didn’t tell me outright, I did a little sleuthing and pieced together his twisted strategy. Fisher believes he can force you out by driving down the team’s performance and eroding the public’s confidence in you as an owner. He’s using the stadium vote to bully you and is sure you’ll sell to me, especially if the vote doesn’t go through. He expects that I’d give him a cut for his part in helping me secure the team for a low price. Bringing in poorly performing players in the past months is just one thread in the web he’s been weaving.”

  Chloe’s stomach clenched. She sat stunned. There was an even stronger thread in Fisher’s nasty web. If her relationship with Scotty became public, it’d trigger a press frenzy. She’d known Fisher was a worm, she just hadn’t estimated how devious the man was.

  “Miss McNalley?”

  She swallowed down the lump forming in her throat. “I need some water.”

  Both men jumped up, but Mike got to the carafe on the side table first. He poured a glass and brought it to her.

  Chloe sipped at the water and swallowed, then looked over to Halliman. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Let’s just say I like your spunk. After our first meeting, I thought a lot about what you said about the Sabers, about baseball and being in something worthwhile for the long run. It’s not often I can do something heroic”—he laughed lightly—“but this seemed just the ticket.” He held her in a straightforward gaze. “I can be ruthless going after what I want, but I’m not a bad guy. And I have lots of experience with tricks and lies and those who deal in both. Yet if I’m going to help you, I need to know precisely what we’re up against. No bullshit and no games.”

  She pressed her palms against her skirt, mentally forcing herself to calm down. “I’ve cut off Fisher’s access to funds, all funds both for players and revenue rights. He didn’t take it well, as you can imagine. But he’s demanded a three-year contract and is trying to force me to sign it.” She met Mike’s eyes. “And there are rumors that he’s betting on games, maybe even working with players to throw them.”

  Halliman shifted, drawing her attention back to him. “I gathered from my meeting with him that he thinks he has something on you, something personal that gives him an ace. Is it true? Can he cause a stink?”

  She knew then how Halliman managed to make deals that no one else did—the man could read what wasn’t said. And he was reading her. She looked over at Mike. He too held her in a focused gaze, but his was different from Halliman’s. It was as if Mike knew what she was hiding. She looked away from both of them. Condensation from the water glass dripped onto her lap, and she brushed the water away. Then, not able to sit still, she stood and crossed the room to set the glass on Mike’s desk. It was time for her to face what she’d dreaded. She turned, pressed her hips against the desk.

  “He’s blackmailing me. He has a photo of me in a compromising position with a player, a Sabers player.” She lifted her eyes to Mike, but his face showed no surprise and she saw no judgment in it. That eased her greatest fear. When she looked back at Halliman, he too showed no surprise. If what she’d heard about him was true, he’d probably seen and heard everything.

  “Fisher has threatened to give the photo to the press, knowing I can’t fire him before the stadium vote without giving the council and the city misgivings. Having a public feud with my GM, dismissing him and accusing him of criminal offences while he reveals my relationship with a player, makes the organization look bad, maybe incompetent. It certainly doesn’t instill confidence at a time when we need the city to be unfailingly behind us.” She took in a very long, very deep breath and blew it out before adding, “From what you’re telling me, he appears to be playing all angles. It never occurred to me that he’d think he’d benefit from the stadium vote failing.”

  “I saw Scotty Donovan’s interview yesterday,” Halliman said.

  “You have been watching the team.”

  “I’m intrigued,” Halliman said. “I may become the game’s greatest fan.” He stood. “And I’ll have you know I brushed up on all aspects of the game. I assure you I quite clearly now understand the importance of the farm system.”

  When he smiled, Chloe felt her face heat. But she eventually grinned back. She should have known the man would recognize a dig, even if he hadn’t given anything away that day.

  “There’s a lot of competition for that position of greatest fan,” she said, feeling lighter with the moment of banter. But the effect soon faded. They were talking about lives and futures here, not just deals.

  “Donovan’s remarks made it clear that there was nothing between you,” Halliman said. “There’s nothing for the press to go on, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “You haven’t seen the photo,” she said. “And he has others. I . . . I went with Donovan to visit his family in Nebraska. We took my plane. It turns out the pilot took a few shots we hadn’t been aware of.”

  She said we before she’d thought. Halliman hadn’t missed it.

  “I see,” he said. He rubbed a hand over his chin. “I can front you the two hundred million if the city backs down.”

  “That’s a generous offer, Mr. Halliman, but money’s not the issue. We need the land. The land goes with the vote.”

  “It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you have to do another deal in the future,” he said, very matter of fact. “Your stadium isn’t going to crumble into the dust anytime soon.”

  She leaned against Mike’s desk and hugged her arms across her chest. “My dad worked hard for this deal, Mr. Halliman. I want it to go through.”

  That she’d just admitted to compromising her dad’s work by having an affair with a player didn’t in any way dilute her drive to see the deal through. That her relationship with Scotty had been more than an affair mattered to no one but her. It had been the deepest risk of her heart, though she hadn’t intended it to be. There were so many consequences that she hadn’t intended.

  But life, that oh so clever life, had ways of waking a woman up. And Chloe was wide awake now. And hurting. Halliman was a man; he’d seen Scotty’s interview. And his response told her she hadn’t read it wrong. Scotty had convincingly told the sports world that he and she did not have a relationship because they didn’t have a relationship. They were player and owner, nothing more. And that knowledge was tearing Chloe apart. Just that morning she’d had Mike prep the papers to trade him; they sat on her desk, ready. After the trade went through, the only link between them would be memories.

  “Fisher’s playing you, positioning himself strategically,” Halliman said. “You sign and he gets the contract, you don’t, he imagines his plan will succeed and he’ll get money from me. Either way, he wins.” He paced to the window. “I don’t like to see men like that win. I can string him along; you just stall and lay low. Wait for the vote. If he tries to force your hand or threatens to go to the press again, you can admit to the affair and say it’s over. I’ll send over my PR woman; she’s good at scripting scrapes like this. And I have contacts on the council. If need be, the vote can be postponed for a few weeks more. By that time everyone will have forgotten all this.”

  Everyone except her.

  “I
’ll be conveniently out of town until after that—my wife and I are going to Capri. It’s our twentieth wedding anniversary. Twenty years with an amazing, remarkable woman. I got lucky. I can only wish the same for everyone.”

  He turned to Chloe and she felt he was looking into her, not at her.

  “I’m sure you’ll make the right decisions, Miss McNalley. Sometimes a crisis is your best opportunity. Too bad we can only see it like that in hindsight. It’d save so much agitation if the wisdom came to us during a crisis.”

  He reached in his pocket and handed Mike a card, then handed one to her. “This has my European cell number. I answer it.” He smoothed a hand down his sleeve. “I suggest you fire that pilot if you haven’t already. But wait until after the vote.”

  “It’s near the top of my list,” she said, appreciating his advice. Also appreciating that he didn’t offer advice regarding the relationship issue. But then, to him, it was over. As apparently it truly was.

  “And what do you get out of this, Mr. Halliman?” she asked, drawing her thoughts back to the business at hand. “That is, besides karma points and being a hero?”

  Halliman looked over at Mike.

  “He’s asked to buy in and be a partner in the new stadium,” Mike said in his calm, level voice. “He’d have a percentage of concession rights and gate revenue.”

  “As I said, Miss McNalley, you’ve convinced me that baseball’s a long-term love. Your passion for the game is contagious.”

  He smiled. It was a genuine smile and though she was still wary, Chloe smiled back.

  “I suggested a twenty percent share,” Mike said firmly. “That is, after the vote goes through.”

  If Mike thought the guy was an asset, so did she. Chloe extended her hand. “Welcome to the Sabers, Mr. Halliman,”

  “And I want season tickets,” Halliman added as he closed her hand in a firm grip.

  “You’ll have to buy those, Mr. Halliman. Business is business,” she said, wagging a finger at him.

  “Atta girl,” Mike said.

  “Yeah,” Halliman said as he released her hand. “Atta girl.”

  Chloe passed through security and headed for her office. The meeting with Mike and Halliman had given her confidence a boost, but she couldn’t ignore the deep sense of loss that had been building since she’d seen Scotty’s press interview. Her assistant, Madge, intercepted her in the hallway.

  “The phones have been ringing off the hooks, Miss McNalley.”

  She handed Chloe a cup of tea. Things must be pretty bad if Madge had made her tea.

  “Mr. Fisher has called a press conference for eleven. He said to give you this.”

  She handed Chloe an envelope.

  “Cancel the press conference,” Chloe said. She took a sip of tea.

  “They’re already here.”

  Chloe locked herself in her office and threw the envelope in the trash. She paced to the window overlooking the field and paced back to the desk. She stared at the trashcan. If there was going to be a battle, she’d better know what weapons she’d be facing.

  She tore open the envelope. There was one line, printed across the middle of an otherwise blank sheet of paper.

  “Go with me on this one. You’ll be much happier if you do.”

  She crumpled the paper. As threats went, it was a clever one. If she ever wanted to produce it, the words wouldn’t provide any evidence at all.

  There was no getting out of the press conference. Too bad she couldn’t wait for Halliman’s PR wiz. The script for this would challenge even the best spin doctor.

  When she opened the door to the press room, she saw at least forty reporters and cameramen already waiting. You’d think the Sabers had won a pennant. Amy Peroni stood stiffly by her cameraman and pointedly did not smile at Chloe as she passed by.

  Fisher was already there, chatting away and smiling his slippery smile. He pulled her aside.

  “I assumed you’d want to face the accusation head on.”

  “You should never assume, Fisher.” She was spitting angry, but held her cool. She would not let him win. She couldn’t.

  “Well I knew it’d be best. You can tell them to screw off, that there’s no truth to it, in your own nice manner, of course.” He leaned close, his hot breath heating her ear. “And if you lay off me and sign my contract, that’ll be that.” He tapped an envelope he held.

  He didn’t say he’d produce the photos if she didn’t follow his script; he didn’t have to. But he hadn’t considered all the options.

  Either the man was a fool or he was used to bullying weaker women.

  Chloe made a decision right then, right there.

  Her father had trusted her, and she wasn’t about to turn back now. She’d fire Fisher as soon as Mike got the papers to her. And she’d signed off on the trade for Scotty; it would go through in a day or so. She suspected that her father hadn’t been thinking clearly when he’d signed him. He’d played well for the Sabers, but she knew he’d rather have stayed with the Giants. His presence on the team had been a mistake all around. A mistake she would put right.

  Her choice should’ve been obvious when Scotty's interview showed so clearly that what they’d shared wasn’t the relationship she’d believed it to be; the choice should have been easy to make. But instead she felt as though she’d been swallowed by a whale and couldn’t get any air or light. It’d be better for everybody when he wasn’t working for her.

  She shook her head.

  Who was she kidding? It would be better for her. She couldn’t run the team if every day she had to see the man who’d once been her greatest chance at happiness.

  “It’s bad form to keep these good people waiting,” she said to Fisher. The triumph she saw in his eyes made her resolve that much stronger.

  Maybe she’d imagined the sidelong glances from some of the city council members over the past weeks, glances that said she was operating in men’s territory and was both too young and inexperienced to tackle the job. Imagined or not, they’d cut into her. But no matter how she felt traipsing around in the leadership shoes, she’d stepped into them. They might not fit, but she was determined to forge ahead. She’d honor the challenge her dad had left her, a challenge that drew her forward when her doubts pulled at her and threatened to hold her back.

  She stepped with Fisher up onto the dais, knowing they all had only one question.

  Fisher waved his hand to quiet them. “Miss McNalley has, of course—”

  “Miss McNalley has a statement,” Chloe said, glaring at him. “And she’ll deliver it herself.” She stood in front of the largest bank of microphones and cameras she’d ever seen.

  “First off, I want to thank all of you for your great coverage of the Sabers. My father loved this team, and he would have appreciated the focus and fine reporting. And I want you to know how grateful I am. The Sabers are a remarkable team—a team with heart. A team with talent.” She paused and looked hard at the cameras. “And the rumors you’ve heard are true.”

  She felt the entire room suck in a breath.

  “Although I know it is highly unorthodox, I have spoken privately about my hopes that this year we’ll take back the World Series title.”

  Murmurs rose and spread through the room. This wasn’t the news they’d come for. Fisher edged closer to her. Perspiration beaded along his forehead and red had crept into his face. She smiled, although her legs felt like jelly. She gripped the podium so tightly that her knuckles were white. Then she deliberately loosened her grip. No need to give away more than was necessary.

  She smiled again and waved her hand to quiet them, ignoring their questions. Let them chalk it up to her inexperience. “And now I would like to address what brought you here today. Yesterday a reporter made insinuations to one of our players that were highly inappropriate. Living in the public eye is difficult enough; players’ private lives are their own business. If they flaunt their actions or partying, they deserve to have their activities reported. But i
f a player chooses to keep his relationships private, that privacy should be respected.”

  “Is it true that you and Scotty Donovan are an item?” a man’s voice shouted from the back of the room.

  “How can you be objective about a player if you are—”

  “I assure you,” she said, staring down the reporter she’d just cut off, “there is nothing untoward between Mr. Donovan and myself. Anything that could have been interpreted as such was a mistake on my part. I will never let personal business get in the way of running the team.” She smiled, although keeping her lips from trembling took great effort. “That’s all for now.”

  She made the kill sign to Madge, who stood like a bulldog ready for a fight at the back of the room. Bless the woman. At least Chloe knew she had someone to lean on. The lights dimmed, and Chloe stepped out of range of the cameras.

  Untoward. It was one of those very, very useful words, a word that required personal interpretation, a word that could mean so many things. She hadn’t lied.

  Amy shot her a glare as she walked down the side of the room and out the door. Chloe didn’t have many allies, and evidently she’d lost that one.

  When she reached her office, she locked herself in and collapsed against the door. Fisher knocked, announcing himself. When she didn’t open the door, he demanded to see her. Chloe heard Madge tell him he’d have to come back later, that Miss McNalley had business to attend to. Chloe had to smile. Madge was a keeper.

  Two hours later the papers to fire Fisher arrived by messenger from Mike, along with a note saying that the Giants were happy with the deal she and George Ellis had worked out to trade Scotty back to the Giants, especially since she’d offered a wad of cash to sweeten the deal.

  Mike hadn’t questioned her insistence when she’d asked him to wait a couple of days to send the notice to Scotty’s agent and for a contract clause requiring the Giants to keep the deal quiet for two weeks. She wanted time to tell Scotty in person, time for him to get used to the situation before it went public.

  She put a call in to Halliman and left a message thanking him and bringing him up to date. Then she arranged a flight to Seattle. She’d arrive early and catch Scotty before the game.