She opened the tailgate so he could toss his duffel bag inside. She slammed it closed and marched around the front of the car. Great. He’d pissed her off. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe she’d stop trying to help him.
“Thanks for the ride.” He squeezed himself into the front passenger seat. At six-four, he wasn’t exactly comfortable in the compact car. Another inch and he’d need to ask her to put the top down. “I really do appreciate it.”
“Yeah. Sure.” She didn’t even look at him as she put the car into reverse. “Sorry it’s not in a Bentley.”
“Look, I like the car. It’s cute.” He shifted, trying to get comfortable. Trying to keep from putting his foot in his mouth, but that seemed to be the only place it fit.
“Cute? Huh? What do you drive?”
“A Mustang.” At least she was still talking to him. “A ’65 classic.”
“Convertible?”
“Of course.” Something they actually had in common. They both understood the amazing freedom of hitting the open road with the wind in their hair.
Hunter laughed as she maneuvered her little car around the city streets. She zipped around obstacles and whipped through traffic like Matt Damon in the Bourne Identity. She seemed to be enjoying herself. Of course, her knees weren’t pressed against her chest and she wasn’t fighting a most unwelcome erection.
Finally she pulled up in front of his hotel. Marco bit back an invitation for her to join him. He already knew he’d strike out. Again. He’d had enough of that at the plate. So with a heavy heart and too tight jeans, he unfolded himself from the passenger seat. He stretched before he headed around to retrieve his luggage.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to come up to your room? Join you for a drink? Or something like that?” Hunter rolled down the window and smiled. Was she teasing him?
“So you can explain to me once again why it would be a bad idea?” He knew she was out of his league. No use continuing to make a fool of himself. “I’ll save us both the trouble, and just say goodnight. And thanks for the ride.”
“That’s too bad.” She set the parking brake and got out to unlock the back. “I might have said yes this time.”
She opened the tailgate, pulled his bag out of the cargo area, and handed it to him. He hoisted the strap over his shoulder and stood there like an idiot, watching her get back in her car and drive away.
Was he supposed to take that as encouragement? Like getting a foul tip instead of a complete swing and miss? Or was she just teasing him? Now that she could see he was giving up.
It didn’t matter. Either way, he was going up to his room. Alone.
Until she showed up in his dreams. Now he had even more fuel for his imagination. That sporty little red car revealed a side of her he’d suspected was there all along. A playful, fun, adventurous side. And at least in his dreams, it would be physically possible to get it on in the front seat of her car. In real life, he’d end up on the disabled list if he even tried. They both would.
* * * *
Well, that didn’t go as she’d planned. Hunter pulled into her garage, frustrated, embarrassed, and more than a little discouraged. He’d shot her down. No. That wasn’t quite right. He never even gave her a chance. He just gave her a hard time about her car, and then thanked her for the ride.
She felt like a fool. Here she’d thought he was truly interested in her, only to find out that he was just, what? Flirting? Or was it just that he was so used to women falling at his feet he didn’t know any other way to relate to her?
At least she hadn’t made an obvious sexual overture. She’d offered him a ride. And if he had asked her to join him in his hotel room, she would have said yes. But would she have been able to laugh it off when he admitted he wasn’t serious?
At least she didn’t have to find out.
Everything could just go back to normal. She could concentrate on her team. On making sure she did everything in her power to keep them on track. She could return to her seat behind home plate. She wouldn’t have to suffer through another game up in the luxury suite with Clayton Barry.
Ugh. The bet. She’d bet ten percent of her ownership share that they’d win the division outright. Ten percent that would make it that much easier for him to wrestle control of the team from her. Marvin Dempsey, the third partner, had always been loyal to her father. A friend even before he’d become a partner. He’d been there for her, too. Helping with funeral arrangements, writing the obituary, and setting up a scholarship fund in her father’s name. But she knew it was business. And if Barry wanted to play hardball, Dempsey would do what was best for his bottom line. He had a family of his own to support. He owed his loyalty to his children and grandchildren.
She had a feeling he’d be disappointed in her for taking that bet. All because her pride, and her uncontrolled attraction to Marco Santiago, wouldn’t let her admit that she might have given up too much to get Santiago. Maybe he wasn’t the missing piece, after all.
She needed to find out. Needed to know what really had him so distracted his shoulders crept up around his ears every time he settled into the batter’s box. Gone was the fluid easy swing that she’d coveted for years. Professionally speaking, of course. She had only started wanting him in other ways since meeting him in person. Since feeling his stare. The way he looked her over as if she was the league MVP, batting title, and Gold Glove Award all in one.
She needed to let it go. She walked into the home she’d grown up in. The mansion that was now hers. It was too big for one person. She could house half the team there, and still have room for company.
That’s what she needed. To have the players over for a relaxed get-together. She’d invite the single players, and the married guys who didn’t have their families here in California. She’d offer them a chance to relax with their teammates, away from the public eye.
Her father had always hosted an informal barbecue on off days in the middle of a long home stand. He’d wanted his players to get to know each other off the field and away from clubs and hotel bars. He wanted them to feel a part of something bigger than the game. Wanted them to know they were more than just a business to him.
She could carry on that tradition. She would carry on the tradition. They had an off day this coming Monday.
She picked up the phone.
“Hello, Hunter, what can I do for you?” Dempsey answered on the second ring.
“I wanted to have some of the guys over. Informally, like back in the old days.” The days when she’d been just a girl. Like a kid sister, hanging around, trying not to get too excited when the baseball players paid attention to her. She’d learned a long time ago that charm was just part of their game.
“That sounds like a fine idea.”
“There are quite a few new guys.” She hoped it wasn’t obvious that there was one man in particular she wanted to entertain. “And a lot of players who might be missing their families. Who are starting to feel the grind of a long season.”
“Yes. It can wear a fellow down after a while.”
“But I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.” Didn’t want to make any of the men feel uncomfortable being invited to the home of a single woman. A single woman with undeniable attraction to one of them. “I thought it might be nice if you and Helen could be here, as well.”
“Certainly. Would you like Helen to give our caterer a call?”
“No. I was thinking of keeping it casual. Burgers and dogs. Chips and dip.”
“Okay, I’ll pick up some dessert.”
“You mean, Helen will pick up some dessert.”
He laughed. “So what about Clayton and Annabelle? Are they included in this party?”
The last thing she wanted was to spend more time with the man, but she supposed he should be included. He was part of the team, as well.
“He probably won’t want to come, but, yeah, I’ll invite him.”
“He’ll drop by, but he won’t stay.”
“You
’re probably right.”
They finished up the details. A team get-together was a good idea. In theory. But Hunter still had butterflies in her stomach. Even though she wouldn’t be alone with Marco, she was still attracted to him. Very attracted to him. So he’d moved on. She was afraid she couldn’t.
* * * *
Marco walked around Johnny’s apartment. Nice place. Just across the street from the ballpark. He could walk to work. No more rides from Hunter.
“So what do you think?” Johnny had a big grin on his face. He obviously hadn’t spent the night tossing and turning because of some woman. No, he’d spent the night with his wife and his family.
“I’ll take it.” Marco looked out the big picture window at the ballpark. He could spend as much time there as he needed to get back on track. Extra batting practice, running the bleachers, whatever it took. “I need a place of my own. I’ll have to make my own bed, but it’s a small price to pay for privacy.”
Stability.
“I’m glad. It’s nice and quiet here. The parking garage is secure.”
“I haven’t had a chance to bring my car out yet. Another reason to live close to work. If I keep hitting—or rather, not hitting—like I have been, I wouldn’t want to cause a riot on the bus.”
“You’ll get it back. We’re all behind you. Just remember that.”
“Thanks. Having a home base will help me settle in.” He hoped.
“Anything for a teammate,” Johnny offered.
“Just keep runs off the board, and maybe I won’t feel like I have to hit a three run homer every night.”
“You don’t.” Johnny sat on the leather sofa.
Marco took the recliner opposite. “Yeah, I keep forgetting that. Things had gotten pretty bad in my old clubhouse. Everyone blaming each other for the recent skid.”
Now that he was out of that locker room, he realized just how high the tensions had mounted. They were a good team, full of all-stars, and plenty of big egos. It was great at the beginning of the year. A lot of people predicted they’d go all the way. Then a few key injuries, a collapse of the bullpen in late June, and the last month had been one bad hop after another.
“It’s different here. Sure we’ve got a lot of talented players. But every single one of us plays for the name on the front of the jersey, not the name on the back.” Johnny didn’t seem like the kind of guy to spout the company line if there wasn’t something to back it up. “I know it sounds a little cliché to say we’re a team with a capital T, but it’s true. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“Just one big happy family, huh?” Marco wanted to believe in it. Wanted to be a part of it.
“We have something special here. And it starts at the top. Losing Henry Collins could have put this team in a tailspin. You’d expect some instability with a change in ownership, even if it’s just one of the partners. But his daughter stepped right up. She’s young, but she’s been in the business her whole life.”
“She seems to know what she’s doing.” Marco felt his heart rate spike at the mention of Hunter. “And she’s passionate about this team.”
That should be enough.
He’d never cared about any of his previous owners. He certainly hadn’t cared about what kind of car they drove or how they dressed or where they sat in the ballpark.
“So, do you need help bringing your stuff over?” Johnny asked. “I can fit a few things in the back of my Jeep.”
“I don’t have much. Just a couple of duffle bags.” Marco had long ago learned the art of traveling light, even before his baseball days. “But now that I have an actual address, I can ship some of my things from my apartment in St. Louis.”
He could hire someone to pack up his stuff, but he didn’t need much. This place had all the essentials: TV, stereo, exercise equipment.
He’d like to have his Mustang. But there just wasn’t time to drive it cross country. And there was no way he was going to trust his most valued possession to some stranger. So it would remain in storage until the season ended.
He needed to keep his libido in storage until the end of the season as well.
Not a problem as long as he stayed away from Hunter.
* * * *
Marco checked out of his hotel room and hung up his five shirts, two pairs of dress pants, and his one suit in his new apartment. He packed his jeans and T-shirts away in the dresser and took a walk over to the ballpark. There was plenty of time to suit up and hit the batting cage before the official warm ups.
After several good cuts in the cage, he felt pretty good by the time he took the field for warm-ups. Getting a place of his own was just what he needed.
Determined to get to know more of his teammates, he reached out to his shortstop. A free agent who’d signed in the offseason, Bryce had spent much of his career with Pittsburg, and the two men had crossed paths while playing against each other.
“So, it’s good to be home, huh?” Marco had long ago stopped associating the word with anything other than the need to wear white pants. They wore the gray uniforms on the road.
“Yeah. It is.” Bryce looked like he’d be more at home on the beaches of southern California than the city streets of San Francisco. A golden boy with thick blond hair that fell almost to his shoulders, he had the laid-back attitude of a surfer on spring break. Until he stepped on the field. Then he was all business. With his Gold-Glove winning defense and power at the plate, he already had people talking about the MVP.
As an opponent in the same division, he was the kind of player you wanted to hate, yet you couldn’t help but respect him. He was the guy who’d kick your ass on the field and then buy you a beer afterward.
As a teammate, Marco imagined he’d be the guy to help you celebrate the victories along the way, but he’d be the first guy to dig in and help you work through your slumps. He needed a workout partner in the worst way.
“How do you like living in San Francisco?” Marco asked. “I imagine it’s very different than Pittsburg.”
“Yeah. It’s different. But once you find your way around, it’s a great city.” Bryce stretched, rolling his head from side to side. “I like the hills. It’s great for getting off the treadmill and changing up your workouts. Plus, the scenery is better out on the street, if you know what I mean?”
“Yeah. I haven’t had a chance to look around.” Nor did he want to. He was no longer interested in the kind of women who were into professional athletes. The kind of women who were fascinated by his job, his income, and his moments in the spotlight.
“Hey, I’d be more than happy to show you around.” Bryce offered. “There aren’t enough single guys on this team.”
“I’m not really looking to party,” Marco admitted. “Besides, the last thing I need is to strike out off the field, too.”
“Sure. Let me know if you change your mind, though,” Bryce added as he finished his stretches.
They seemed to run out of things to talk about. Maybe Marco should have taken Bryce up on his offer to show him around. No one said he’d have to go home with anyone if he didn’t want to.
“Are you going to the team barbecue?” Bryce put his glove on, ready to take some ground balls.
“I guess so.” Marco had glanced at the invitation only briefly before tossing it in his locker. The last thing he wanted was to stand around talking about how much he sucked.
“You want share a cab with me?” Bryce asked. “I hear they used to be quite the tradition. Before Henry Collins got sick.”
The name “Collins” pricked his attention.
“So, where is this party?”
“At the Collins’ estate.” Bryce grinned. “It’s supposed to be casual: barbecue, bocce ball, that kind of thing. It might be fun. Get a chance to see her let her hair down.”
Marco knew the her he was talking about. No way he was letting Bad-boy Baxter get anywhere near Hunter. Not without him.
“Yeah. I’ll go with you.” Marco decided. “I’l
l definitely go with you.”
Chapter 5
So far, the casual get-together was just what Hunter had envisioned. Several groups of players stood around chatting, sipping cold beers, and generally relaxing. A couple of guys were playing a heated game of bocce ball, and she’d managed to keep from spending all her time tracking Marco’s movements.
It was time to start cooking the burgers. Hunter lit the grill and went inside to retrieve the tray of hamburger patties she’d prepared ahead of time. She came back to find Marco scraping the grates on her built-in gas grill.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She would have been more open to him stepping in if he’d said more than two words to her this afternoon. Okay, so maybe “Thank you for having us over.” was actually six words. Still, he’d pretty much avoided her all day. Now he was making himself at home?
“Manning the grill.” He grinned, flashing his deep dimples. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses. That was a good thing.
“I’ve got it.” She tried to step in, but he shook his head.
“Sorry. Red meat. Open flame. Man’s job.” He pounded his chest and grunted for good measure.
“Really? Does that work for you often?” She crossed her arms over her chest and wasn’t too surprised when he dropped his gaze to her breasts. What a caveman.
“Look, I know you’ve busted your tail doing all the prep work. Getting everything ready. You should relax for a bit. Put your feet up. Have a beer.” Now he was being charming. He lowered his voice, making the conversation that much more intimate. “Give me a chance to feel at least somewhat useful.”
Fine. She could do that. If his ego was so fragile he needed to grunt, pound his chest, and char meat to feel manly, who was she to get in the way?
She went back into the kitchen to retrieve a platter for the cooked meat. As she reached for a brightly colored dish, she was startled by the sharp sting of memory. She fondly recalled dragging her father to the open market in the Dominican Republic during one of their many scouting trips to the Winter Leagues.
Worth the Trade Page 5
