Bases Loaded (Mustangs Baseball)

by Roz Lee

  Clare propped her elbows on the desk, held the receiver to her ear with one hand, and pinched the bridge of her nose with the other. The annual P.A. dinner. It didn’t get more stuffed shirt than that.

  “I haven’t got a thing to wear, Uncle Doyle.”

  “Buy something. Hell, go to one of those spa places tomorrow and have the works. On me. Stop by the house and pick up my credit card this evening. It’s the least I can do for the favor you’d be doing me.”

  She fingered the ungraded tests. She had at least another hour of grading. Not exactly the most exciting way to spend a Friday night.

  “Come on, Clare,” he pleaded. “You work too hard. Enjoy life a little. Come get my credit card, pamper yourself then I’ll take you out for a free meal and free booze.”

  She laughed. “You forgot the free boring conversation, and free boring speeches.”

  “Did I mention free booze?”

  She smiled at his playful tone. “You did.” Her shoulders drooped. “Okay. I’ll go, but I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you.”

  “Thank you!” His relief came through the phone line loud and clear. “I’m serious about the headache thing. Say the word, and we’re out of there.”

  She could feel one coming on already. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  When she stopped by to pick up the credit card, Doyle answered the door. He handed over the plastic. “That’s Cathy’s. She said no one would question you if her name was on it, but they might if mine was. Oh, and one second.” He reached for something on the hall table. “Cathy said to give you this.”

  She took the business card he held out. “She has appointments tomorrow for her hair and nails. She said you might as well use them since you’re going in her place. They’re expecting you, and it’s all paid for.”

  Clare turned the card over and read the appointment times listed. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me. You’re doing me a big favor. I’d rather dig holes in solid rock with my fingernails than go to this thing, but it’s part of the job. Having a pretty woman with me makes it somewhat bearable.”

  She fished her wallet out of her purse, stowed the two cards, and tucked her wallet back in place. “You can cut out the flattery. I already said I would go with you.”

  “It’s not flattery if it’s true,” he said. “Now scoot. The mall is still open. Go see how much you can charge on that card before they close.”

  She turned and headed to her car. “Be careful what you ask for,” she said over her shoulder.

  The dress she picked out would have made her credit card weep, but Cathy’s didn’t even whimper when the clerk rang up the sale. She hadn’t intended to purchase anything so expensive, but when the salesperson asked about the occasion, she insisted Clare would be out of place with anything less than a formal gown.

  After a day of pampering on Saturday, Clare stepped into the gown and eyed the finished product. The midnight blue dress hugged her curves, and the tiny crystals scattered across it winked liked stars. With the crystal-studded headband, the faux diamond bracelet at her wrist, and the flecks of glitter in her nail polish, she sparkled from head to toe. On the advice of the makeup artist at the salon, she added a swipe of red to her lips. There. She’d never looked better. Too bad it would be wasted on a date with her uncle.

  * * *

  Tony fidgeted in his seat. Beside him, the woman his publicist had fixed him up with this time looked more like a mannequin than a human being. Jeff Holder’s twin brother, Jason, was receiving an award tonight, but Jeff and Megan’s baby had come down with a fever. Jason had called, asking if he could fill in at the last minute to round out their table. Tony had argued against it, but Jason reminded him how important it was to make nice with the local press, and he’d caved. A call to his publicist, who was ecstatic about the invitation, and here he sat next to a plastic person and wished to hell the evening was over instead of just beginning.

  It wouldn’t be so bad if Clare had been beside him. He could endure just about anything as long as he had her to talk to. He still hadn’t figured out a way to smooth things over with her, or he would have nixed this arranged date and called her—not that she would have answered his call.

  Fucking caller I.D.

  Who ever thought that was a good idea?

  Well, it was what it was. The booze was free, and he’d already had his photo taken several times—something that would make his publicist swoon and maybe entice her to pursue a few more endorsement contracts on his behalf.

  Ignoring his date, Tony turned to the man who had invited him and lifted his champagne glass. “To the man of the hour.”

  Jason raised his glass in acknowledgement. “Thanks, but I owe you one. These dinners can make you wish you were never born.”

  Tony sipped from his champagne flute and returned it to the table. He nodded at the two empty seats across the round banquet table. “Who are the lucky no-shows?”

  “Not lucky and not no-shows.” Jason pointed toward the door. “Doyle and his date are here. His wife has the flu. I almost envy Cathy.”

  Tony’s gaze swept in the direction of Jason’s pointing finger. A couple stood framed in the entryway, scanning the room. His body snapped to attention. Blood rushed to his groin, leaving him lightheaded and unable to breathe.

  Clare.

  Having spotted their assigned table, the couple wove through the ballroom, stopping to speak to acquaintances. Clare remained by Doyle’s side, smiling, shaking hands. Her mouth moved.

  Christ almighty! He couldn’t tell what she said, but his dick remembered those lips and strained for an intimate meeting.

  She’d done something with her hair, tried to tame it, but a few tendrils had escaped the up-do to frame her face like silk ribbons and tease the tops of her shoulders. She’d wrapped her body in the night sky, complete with stars that winked on and off when she moved. The dress left her arms and shoulders bare, long expanses of sun-kissed ivory begged for a man to taste them. His mouth watered, ready to oblige.

  Doyle lingered, and Clare moved on. A woman at a nearby table waved to her. She stopped, and the bright smile she’d worn since her arrival dimmed to cool-white.

  Tony tensed. The woman looked pleasant enough, but he could tell by her body language it was all she could do to maintain her polite façade. Doyle rejoined her, placed his hand on her elbow. She said something then allowed Doyle to usher her to her seat.

  What the hell just happened? Every protective cell in his body screamed for him to find out who the witch was who’d taken the joy out of her evening and make sure she never spewed her poison in Clare’s direction again.

  He stood as the couple approached.

  “Doyle,” he said. His gaze shifted to the woman beside him. “Miss Kincaid.”

  The older man pulled out her chair before taking the seat beside her.

  “Tony,” he said. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  “Or I wouldn’t have brought Clare,” was unspoken. Tony chose to ignore it as he had the manager’s warning the night he met her.

  “Jeff and Megan had a change of plans,” Jason explained. “I conned Tony before he had a chance to check it out. I knew no one else on the team would agree to fill in.” Everyone laughed, with the exception of the woman he loved.

  Head bent, she unfolded her napkin and draped it over her lap. The smile that had lit her face when she’d first arrived was nowhere in sight now. Tony wanted to kick something or someone.

  Doyle grinned and nodded. “The Mustangs version of hazing. Trick the new guy into going to the most boring dinner of the year.” He inclined his head toward the man of the hour. “No offense intended, Jason.”

  “None taken,” he assured.

  “I was happy to help,” Tony said. Even happier that you brought Clare. “I just hope Jeff’s baby is all right.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Carrie, Jason’s wife said to the table at large. “Megan said she thought Amy was teething,
but with the flu going around, she didn’t want to take any chances.” She turned to the newcomers. “Clare, it’s so good to see you. You look marvelous tonight.”

  She accepted the compliment with ease, and the conversation around the table turned to the recent flu outbreak and plans for the upcoming holiday season.

  Tony couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d spent the last week wrestling with memories and inappropriate thoughts and dreams starring her. Images of her on the deck of the boat, wearing nothing but the night sky haunted him, and here she was, sitting across from him, draped in midnight blue velvet and stars. Soft lighting in the room cast her in moonlight.

  If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she’d worn the dress with the express purpose of driving him insane. He felt like the deck was shifting under him. But who was he kidding? He hadn’t been on solid ground since the first time he saw her. She’d walked into the ballroom a few weeks ago and he’d been drunk on lust and love ever since.

  The conversation swirled around him. Her voice was the only one he heard. “Everyone knows someone who has it.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  “I’d love to go shopping. When?”

  “No, I have a class on Wednesday. Would Thursday work?”

  “It’s a date.”

  “Will you excuse me?” She scooted her chair back.

  Tony was halfway out of his chair when Doyle’s voice cut through the fog in his brain.

  “Tony, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? Visiting relatives in New York?”

  He lowered his butt back to the seat. His gaze never wavered from Clare’s swaying backside weaving through the ballroom. Mine. She disappeared through the door, and he turned his attention back to the man who could make or break his career. He couldn’t afford to alienate him.

  “No, sir. I have some business to take care of here, so I’m afraid there won’t be enough time to make the trip.”

  “We’re having a big gathering, mostly family and a few friends. You should join us.”

  “Thanks. I would enjoy that.” He pushed his chair back again. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Making his way to the exit, he ignored several shout outs to get him to stop and talk. Reaching the door, he stepped out and saw her across the lobby. “Clare!”

  She stopped in front of the ladies room, turned, and waited for him to catch up. She glanced around. “Where’s your walking stick?”

  It took him a second to figure out what she was talking about then it registered and he laughed. “You mean What’s-her-name. She’s back at the table. I wanted to talk to you.”

  “You don’t know her name?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s something like Pia, Pea. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know who I am either. I needed someone on short notice to occupy a seat. My publicist found her.” The hurt in her eyes made his heart ache. He looked at his toes. “I should have called you, but….”

  “No.” Her voice held a finality that broke his heart and confirmed his earlier thoughts. She wouldn’t have picked up the phone, but at least she would know he had tried. Shit. He’d swung and missed again.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “How are you? I’ve missed you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You look more than fine. You’re stunning tonight.” He caught a whiff of her perfume, floral with a hint of something sensual that reminded him of moonlight on her skin and made his fingers itch to touch her.

  “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned, flattened her palm on the ladies room door.

  “Who was that woman? The one you stopped to talk to on the way in tonight?”

  Her shoulders tensed for a second then, as if she made a conscious effort to relax them, they dropped back into place.

  “Is she the one you told me about? The one with the charm?”

  “There’s nothing charming about her.” She pushed the door open and disappeared inside.

  Tony waited, staring at the door until she reappeared. She stopped when she saw him. Stunning didn’t come close to describing the way she looked, but on closer inspection, her eyes hinted at weariness.

  “What do you want, Antonio?” She folded her arms across her middle and glared at him as if he were a pesky child.

  “Are you okay? You look tired.”

  “Remind me to stay out of ladies restrooms. Before I went in I was stunning.”

  He smiled. At least she still had a sense of humor. “You’re still stunning. I wasn’t criticizing, just observing.”

  “I have a headache,” she admitted.

  “Let me take you home.”

  “No. Doyle will take me home as soon as the awards are over.”

  “Then let me escort you back in.”

  “That isn’t necessary. I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

  He’d never had to work so hard to get close to a woman in his life. Enough was enough. He took her hand, wrapped her fingers over his forearm. “I never said you weren’t.” Steering her toward the ballroom, he said, “Let me do this for you.”

  Pausing inside the door, he let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting before threading their way through the tables. He made sure to follow the same route she’d taken when she arrived. He slipped his arm down and around her waist, pulling her snug against his hip. She squirmed, but he tightened his grip, and she had little choice but to wrap her arm around his waist as well.

  “Trust me,” he whispered in her ear. “And whatever you do, don’t hit me.”

  Before she could ask what the hell he meant, he dipped his head and nipped her on the neck. She gasped, and he swung her around so they were face to face. Her arms automatically came up to drape around his neck. Perfect.

  Hands on her hips, he walked her backward through the crowded room. “I could just eat you up.” He made sure his voice carried at just the right moment.

  “Antonio,” she hissed.

  “Shh,” he nuzzled her neck. Damn, he could get drunk on her scent. “Babe, let’s go somewhere we can be alone.”

  He held her close, gazed into her eyes, imploring her to go along.

  “Clare. Darling.” The woman’s voice held a hint of malice that set Tony’s teeth on edge.

  Clare tensed from head to toe. He held her gaze.

  “Come with me,” he begged, infusing the plea with as much sexual innuendo as he could muster.

  She nodded. “I’d like that, Tony. My place or yours?”

  He grinned. Tony. She never called him that. She understood the game he was playing. Good girl.

  “Come on,” he turned her, laced their fingers together, and tugged her toward their table. “Let’s get your things and say our goodbye’s.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Doyle.” She tapped her uncle on the shoulder to get his attention. “I have a headache. Antonio is going to give me a ride home.”

  Her uncle stood. “I can take you.”

  “No. Stay. We can’t all abandon Jason on his special night.” She turned to the award winner. “Forgive me. I really wish I could stay….”

  “Think nothing of it,” Jason said with a smile. “I’d be out of here, too, if I thought I could get away with it.”

  Clare made her apologies around the table. While they’d been in the lobby, Antonio’s date had abandoned him for a sit-com celebrity at another table. Antonio informed her he was leaving, and she waved him away.

  He returned, wrapped his arm around Clare’s waist.

  Doyle kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for coming tonight. I hope you feel better soon.”

  “I will. Enjoy your evening.”

  “Tony, thanks for taking Clare home. I’ll be in touch about Thanksgiving.”

  She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but Antonio ushered her away before she uttered the first word.

  “Later,” he whispered near her ear. “Smile.”

  Clare plastered on her best smile. Heads turne
d as they passed, and she sensed the scrutiny of dozens of pairs of eyes watching them leave together. When they passed Jessica’ s table, Antonio tightened his hold on her and said loud enough for half the ballroom to hear, “I can’t wait to get you home.”

  Her face flushed with heat. Oh Lord. What did he think he was doing?

  “Clare, oh, Clare!” Jessica’s voice rose over the background music, sounding like a crazed fan trying to get the attention of a rock star.

  “Ignore her,” Antonio said. “And smile.” His hand on the small of her back dipped lower and took liberties with her left cheek. Being eye-level with everyone they passed, the move would have been hard to miss.

  She smiled all the way to the elevator and, once inside, loosened the lid on her temper. “Thanksgiving? Are you kidding me?”

  He punched the button for the parking garage. “Doyle invited me to spend Thanksgiving at his house.”

  This could not be happening. What had her uncle been thinking? “Aren’t you going to New York to see your family?”

  “Not for Thanksgiving. I’ll make the trip closer to Christmas when I’ll have more time.” The doors swooshed open, and he stuck his arm out to hold them open for her.

  She stomped out of the elevator and turned left, putting distance between them before she exploded in tears. How was she ever going to forget about Antonio if he kept popping up in her life? All week she’d battled memories of time spent with him. She couldn’t set foot in her office without remembering the day he’d come to see her. It had become impossible to work at her desk without memories rushing in, taking over her thoughts. Midweek, she’d posted a note on the door, directing students to find her in the library during office hours.

  The move hadn’t quite done the trick. Thoughts of Antonio decreased from constant to barely every three minutes. She had hoped tonight would provide enough distraction to take her mind off the insufferable man, but noooo. He had to show up at the Press Association dinner, too. And now he would be at their family Thanksgiving dinner? Not that he knew she was family. She went to great pains to keep her relationship to team management quiet. The last thing she needed was reporters hunting her up in hopes of getting inside information.