The last thing Rob needed now was any pressure from her, and this mini-vacation had been billed as no frills, no fuss, no baggage. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, and even if he was, he wouldn’t be looking in her direction.
She should just be grateful that she’d accomplished her mission. He wasn’t obsessing over getting the call. At least he hadn’t been until she’d made that stupid remark about her father. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d gotten angry. But he hadn’t, and as good as he and most pitchers were at hiding their emotions, she would’ve known if he was irreparably upset with her.
He lifted his head and squinted at her through one eye.
“You’re not sleeping.”
“Apparently neither are you.”
“Don’t think that’s gonna happen.” He opened his other eye and skimmed his palm down her side, over the curve of her hip as he watched her face.
“You’ll have to nap later.”
“We will,” he said, using his other hand to bring up her chin. He kissed her, angling his mouth just so and trying to coax her lips apart.
She was too busy smiling to do what he wanted. He’d said “we.” Lordy, she’d been even more nervous about him being upset than she thought because her pent-up breath came out in a whoosh.
“I just hope you have some more condoms in that suitcase of yours.”
“I do.”
His kiss was a promise for later, and so was the tenderness warming his eyes, gentling his hand as he stroked her cheek. “You make it very difficult to think straight, you know that?”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
He nodded.
“It goes both ways, you know.”
“I’m not that interesting,” he said, his tone shifting as he moved slightly away from her. “It was nice of you to think of me, though.”
“I think of you a lot,” she confessed, wanting to pull him back, make him look at her with those eyes again. “I have for years.”
“Me? Why?”
She caught his jaw in her hands and held him steady, wishing the light was brighter so he could see her clearly. “I’m gonna tell you something, and I don’t expect anything in return, got it? But you need to hear it, and dammit, I need to say it. I don’t care what happens with the call, Rob Perry. I don’t. I will care about you, I will cheer you on, I will believe in you.”
“I know you will, honey,” he said. It wasn’t very convincing, although he tried, he honestly did. “But I’ll be fine. Even if I do get the call, I won’t be in the game forever. I’ll find something to do. I know car dealerships aren’t what they used to be but—”
She dropped her hand as she struggled to sit up. “Car dealerships? With your talent?”
“My arm isn’t getting any younger,” he said.
“That’s not the talent I mean. You’re a born coach. You earned the respect of every man on your team before you went and got stupid. Why do you think everyone was so disappointed? You’re better than that. You’ve got things to share, not just about the game, but about being a man, being someone substantial. You should be working with kids, Rob. Getting them when they’re young.”
He shook his head, still not listening.
She touched him again, his arm with one hand, his cheek with the other. “You aren’t just my friend, Rob. You haven’t been for a long time.” She closed her eyes, and opened them back up when she found her courage. “You’re my champion.”
He swallowed; she could hear it even if she couldn’t see his throat. And he was completely still. Tori had no idea if he understood what she’d just confessed, but that didn’t matter. He needed to know who he was. Needed to know it before the call.
She brushed her fingers through his hair as she settled back down onto her pillow. It was tempting to tease him, to make light of her declaration, to twist it into something that wasn’t about her heart.
He finally moved, caressing her face as if she were precious, as if he could hurt her with a touch. “How did this happen?” he whispered. “You are an amazing creature. You have everything in the world to look forward to.”
“So do you,” she said, praying he believed her.
He stayed quiet a long time. “Tori, don’t take this wrong, but I’ve reconsidered…I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to come to the game after all.”
WHEN TORI REALIZED that she’d read the same paragraph three times and still didn’t know what it said, she threw the newspaper across the room. She hadn’t seen Rob since this morning, she’d texted him twice, he hadn’t answered, and now the game had been over for nearly an hour and still no word.
Fine. If he wanted to be so damn hardheaded, nothing she could do about it. She sniffed, but refused to cry. She’d already broken down twice today. Her emotions had stayed so close to the surface she’d been afraid to leave the suite.
Oh, God, why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut? Sure, he’d kissed her, hugged her close before he left, but she’d known from the minute he told her he needed to go back to his hotel to grab some sleep that it was over between them. Was it because she’d seen him vulnerable? Was it his pride?
A tear trickled down her cheek and she angrily dashed it away. Who was she, of all people, to have butted in? She’d spent most of her life a complete mess, and here she tried to tell Rob he was more than just a pitcher. Part of her didn’t regret telling him exactly what he needed to hear, but the other part of her—the part that already missed him so much she wanted to scream—wished she’d just left things the way they were…physical, uncomplicated.
She laid her head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. That would’ve been the easy, chicken-shit thing to do, and she didn’t want to be that person anymore.
Tori brought her head up when she thought she heard a knock. She listened again and then quickly got to her feet. It wasn’t housekeeping because they would’ve announced themselves. She ran to see who it was, glanced through the peephole, saw Rob and flung open the door.
“Hey.” Her voice cracked.
He looked tired, but smiled. “Hey.”
“You guys won. Congratulations.”
“What?” He spread a hand. “No kiss?”
With a shaky laugh, she pulled him inside and closed the door. Damn, tears burned the back of her eyes. Not now. She gave a quiet sniff and looked down, pretending to fix her dress.
He lifted her chin until their gazes locked. A shadow of concern crossed his face but thankfully he didn’t comment on her moist eyes. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us today. About what you said this morning.”
“You have?” she said, trying in vain to keep her voice calm and even.
He nodded as his broad hand meandered down her back. “I was thinking I would take you to dinner tonight. Someplace fancy and quiet.”
“Really? I don’t know that much is open.”
“Anyplace we could talk.”
“We could talk here,” she said, resting her head for just a moment against his, the scent of him filling her up with an odd combination of desire and comfort.
“No, I mean talk. Not a euphemism.”
She leaned back to look at him, at his eyes. “What about?”
“What comes next.”
She’d known Rob Perry for a lot of years, and for a pathetic number of those years, she’d studied him like a treasure map. Even the time away in Europe hadn’t diminished the way she knew this man. He was serious. But he was also calm. Zen calm. On the mound, just before the pitch calm. “Next?” she repeated, not daring to blink.
“It’s time I did some planning. For my future. Whatever that future may hold.”
“Oh,” she said, and then, when he kept on staring at her, when his gaze didn’t waver an inch, she had to swallow hard. “You want to talk to me about your plans?”
“You’ve done a hell of a job with your own life. You know me well. You’ve got my best interest at heart. I can’t think of a person whose advice I’d val
ue more.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t quite sure whether to be pleased for him or for them.
“Good,” he said, as he brought his lips up close to hers. “There’s a lot to say. A lot to plan for. And I was hoping those plans would include you.”
She knew she was trembling, and she knew he could feel it. Her hand was in his hair, her heart near bursting. “I’d love to go to dinner with you, Rob Perry. We can talk as long as you like.”
“It’ll take a while. Hell, I’m only thirty-three. We’ve got a whole lifetime ahead of us.”
His Lucky Charm
1
“LEADING OFF THE BOTTOM of the ninth inning is the Bulls’ first baseman, Eric Lessing, who needs a hit here to keep his twenty-one-game hitting streak alive.” The announcer’s deep baritone voice seemed a bit more animated than usual as Eric stood at the plate, digging his cleats into the dirt.
At least to Tess Meyers’s ears. Or maybe it was her own excitement that had her sensing that everyone in Becker ballpark was sitting at the edge of their seats, holding their breaths, hoping and praying that Beckerville’s own hit that ball into the next county.
She watched him readjust his right batting glove, three times, and then switch to his left glove for another three adjustments. The ritual was new, something he’d started two hits into his streak.
When he crowded the plate, Tess smiled. The pitcher’s stony expression didn’t let on that he was annoyed that Eric was interfering with his strike zone, but he was. Tess knew as much about baseball as she did about chocolate, teaching fourth grade or cooking. Okay, cooking was a bad example.
But baseball…nothing else lifted her spirits like a game of baseball. As if it were yesterday, she still remembered her first time at the ballpark. She’d been seven years old, sitting under a cloudless blue sky on a chilly April day, her father’s warm arm hugging her shoulders. Neither of her two sisters or mother had wanted to go and from that day on baseball had become their special one-on-one time.
Even after her parents’ divorce when Tess was fifteen, she still went to games with her father. He hadn’t been consistent about showing up for other events, even holidays, but she could always count on him during baseball season. Now, whenever she visited him in Kansas City, they always managed to catch a few Royals’ games.
“Hey, your fingers aren’t crossed.” Her friend Sally from yoga nudged her with an elbow.
“Wanna bet?” Tess was partially sitting on her hands but she showed them to her friend without taking her gaze away from Eric. “Got my ankles crossed, too.”
“Oh, and you’re not superstitious.” Sally’s attention bounced from Eric to her husband, who was an outfielder for the Bulls, and would be next up at bat.
“I’m only crossing them for you so I get this great seat again.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s yours for the rest of the season. Gwen isn’t due to have her baby for another—” Sally paused as they watched Eric patiently take the first pitch inside.
“Ball one,” the umpire yelled.
Tess absently nodded. No hurrying Eric. He’d wait for the right pitch.
“You have to see him up close.” Sally leaned closer. “He is so damn cute.”
“Tell me something every woman in Beckerville doesn’t already know.”
“No, I mean, like talking to him face-to-face. Those baby blues of his…holy cannoli, he makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room. I don’t understand why you won’t go out with him.”
Tess loved her friend Sally. She did. Even though the woman clearly was insane for thinking Tess and Eric Lessing would make a good pair. Baseball was likely the only thing they had in common. Eric was a larger than life kind of guy, gregarious, a rising star who made people sit up and take notice. While Tess enjoyed a nice quiet life as a schoolteacher and Little League coach. She had a feeling if they were left alone, after they talked baseball to death, they’d have nothing else. And then where would she be?
Right now, in her secret fantasies, Eric was the perfect guy who said and did all the right things. One inane utterance from him or a polite but disinterested gaze that wandered over her shoulder could change all of that. Nope, she wasn’t going to take the chance just because Sally thought it would be fun if they could all go out as a foursome. Tess was pretty sure that’s what all the blind-date push was about…Sally wanting a nice even number at parties and barbecues.
Tess wasn’t the social type herself, and she couldn’t pinpoint why they’d become friends, but they’d bonded a year ago over vanilla lattes and whining about their ruthless yoga instructor. A few months later Tess had met Sally’s husband, Mike, when his wife had forced him to try a class after he’d mocked her for complaining. Good athlete, but lousy at yoga. His pretzel imitations had the entire class in stitches, but no one had laughed harder than Tess. She hadn’t felt one bit bad because the guy also knew how to dish out the barbs. He’d also been a good sport, although he had threatened to get even.
Tess’s gaze strayed to the pair of gorgeous women standing at the fence, one blonde, the other a redhead, both tall and trim, and who seemed to be Beckerville home-game staples. They always sat near the bull pen or close to first base, and all the players noticed them. Those were the type of women pro ballplayers hooked up with. In fact, last season the rumor was that Eric had dated a lingerie model. Tess hadn’t bothered asking Sally about it, because it didn’t matter.
If she were seriously looking for a guy, he’d have to be someone normal, average, with a steady job, who loved kids. She did. That’s why she taught and coached. She was just so damn unapologetically Midwestern average.
Then again, Kyle, her last steady relationship, had fit that description. Another teacher, no less, who even liked baseball. They’d gone out together for over a year before she finally admitted to herself that his lack of spontaneity was slowly making her nuts. She’d let him down easily, lying through her teeth when he’d asked if she found him boring.
She tensed, watched the pitcher wind up, then deliver a fast ball over the plate. Eric swung. The bat made contact with a loud crack…a lined shot to the left-field gap for a double.
The crowd surged to their feet and cheered. Eric easily reached second base. Once he knew he was safe, he wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm and flashed his wide trademark grin.
In spite of herself, Tess’s silly heart did that fluttery thing. It happened every stupid time she saw him smile and yet she was still surprised. Why? Heaven help her, why did she react like one of her nine-year-old students? That was yet another reason why she could never be in the same room with the man, much less go on a date with him. So weird, because when she’d been a nine-year-old, or even when she’d been in her teens, she’d never had a crush on a celebrity. Not once.
“Tess?” Sally shook her arm.
“What?”
“Are you listening?”
She glanced into her friend’s amused green eyes. “Huh?”
Sally’s lips lifted in a smug grin. “I know Lessing fever when I see it.”
“Your husband just came up to bat,” Tess responded flatly. “You want to miss his homer?”
Still smirking, Sally shifted her gaze to her husband, who fouled the ball over the backstop.
Everyone seemed to watch as fans scrambled for the souvenir ball. So did Tess, but only for an instant before her attention returned to Eric. He flirted with the base, dancing a foot away, his wary eyes on the pitcher, daring him to go for the Out so Eric could steal third base.
The pitcher didn’t bite. He threw hard to Sally’s husband. But Mike was ready and hit a grounder up the middle. Tess held her breath as she watched Eric’s long, powerful legs eat up the distance as he rounded third then slid home to win the game.
The crowd went bananas. So did the Bulls as they converged on Eric and Mike. Sally smacked Tess’s arm so hard there’d be no escaping a bruise.
“Guess who’s getting lucky tonight,” S
ally said, beaming at Mike, and then blowing him a kiss when he peered in their direction. Then she turned to Tess. “We’re going for beer and pizza. Come with us.”
“I have lessons to plan.”
“Just one beer.”
“Who’s going?”
“I’m not sure.” Sally blinked, refused to look her in the eye. Yep, she was lying.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time.” Tess stood and patted her jeans pocket to make sure she had her car keys, driver’s license and change from her hot dog. She hated carrying a purse and rarely did.
“When? The season’s almost over.” Sally also got to her feet. “I don’t get you. Do you know how many women would give up their iPhones to be set up with Eric?”
“So you should have no problem finding someone else.”
Sally groaned with disgust. “It’s not like he needs the help. I just know you two would be adorable together. You both come from small Midwestern towns, you love baseball, you’re both funny.”
Tess sighed. Why was Sally doing this? Couldn’t she buy a clue? There’s no way Eric would be interested in Tess, and not just because she wasn’t a knockout. Eric was on the verge of being called up to the Majors. He was already a star, and once he was in the Show, he’d be inundated with amazing women, women who were sophisticated and stunning. She was a gnat next to monarch butterflies, and she had the good sense to know and not get emotionally invested in someone who was wrong for her. “I really do have to go. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Fine.” Sally sounded miffed but she’d get over it. Like her husband she was a good sport. And beautiful, which Tess had privately promised not to hold against her.
Tess waved to a couple of other players’ wives she’d met through Sally, then managed to make her way to the aisle without stepping on any stragglers’ toes. She stopped briefly to glance over her shoulder. Not at Eric, specifically, but he was who caught her eye. It was the smile, the thick brown hair, the broad shoulders, the tall, lean runner’s body. Physically speaking, the man was darn near perfect. What the hell was Sally thinking?
Extra Innings and In His Wildest Dreams Page 13
