The top of the Nighthawks batting order was up in the bottom of the eighth. Nat struck out. Skip hit a long, fly ball to center field that was caught. Bobby Hernandez popped up to the infield. The ’Hawks had to pray that Larkin could hold Atlanta steady with no more scoring. Holly moved over several aisles, so she could peek into the dugout.
Cal Crawley stood with his foot on the top step. He chewed slowly, his cap pulled down over his eyes, his expression unreadable. Dan stood next to him, chomping heavily on a wad of gum, talking to Cal, who nodded. The men not on the field were on their feet, some pacing. Dan’s cap rested on the back of his head. From time to time, he’d lean to his right to say something to Julio Suarez.
Holly sensed the tension in the air. Matt ran out to the mound to confer with Larkin. After some nodding, the catcher returned to his post. She held her breath as Spencer went into his wind up then released the ball. She heard the smack of leather hitting leather as Matt trapped it in his glove. The umpire called “strike!”
Wiping his brow, Larkin continued to rifle pitches in at top speed. After one strike out and one foul out to Lawrence at third base, the fans relaxed. But all the other team needed was one solo homerun to tie and a man-on-base homer to win.
The men in the dugout didn’t appear relaxed when the Athletic’s catcher stepped up to the plate. He exchanged a few words with Matt then shouldered the bat and took his stance. Larkin accepted the signaled pitch and went into his wind-up. Crack! The bat connected, sending the ball lofting up and out to center field. Chet Candelaria moved under it easily and made the catch.
Third out! ’Hawk’s win! Holly jumped up and down with the fans as people rose to leave the stadium. Tonight would be a celebration at Dan’s place. They’d taken one from Atlanta, improving their position to snag a spot in the playoffs.
Holly headed for the ladies’ room to change into street clothes. She met Dan at the exit to the parking lot. He grabbed her, twirled her around, and gave her a big kiss. In the background, she heard hooting, hollering, and kissing noises from his teammates. Embarrassment colored her cheeks as she pushed on his arms to be put down.
“I did it! I did it! Hit ninety-three and won the game!”
“You did! Congratulations, Dan. Fantastic! Awesome! You’re amazing!”
“Now, his head is two sizes too big for his cap!” Matt Jackson said.
“We’re not there yet, Dan. Save the celebrating,” Cal Crawley put in as he strolled past.
“That’s right. And you might have to bat again sometime soon,” Nat Owen teased.
“I’ll be ready with my game-stopping bunt, asshole!”
“Watch the language. There’s a lady present,” Bobby said.
“Sorry, honey.” Dan put his hand on the small of her back and steered them toward the car.
He tossed the car keys to his valet and led Holly into the apartment.
“Leftover chili?” she asked, taking off her jacket.
“Nope. Either order in or go out. Which one?” He shed his sweatshirt.
“Let’s order in.”
“Great. Fried chicken? From Dizzy’s Chicken Heaven?”
“Perfect! Shower first for me,” she said, making tracks to the bathroom.
* * * *
Dan popped a beer and sat on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table while he dialed. Hunger gnawed at him. He doubled the order and hung up.
Holly padded into the living room wearing only a white towel. Her hair, partially dried, her face shining, her grin wide. She took his breath away.
“You look great!” He sat up, his gaze scanning her body.
“Knew you’d like this.”
“It’s your best outfit. Nothing. It becomes you the most,” he said, tugging gently at the corner of the wrap.
“Uh, uh, uh! Are you trying to undress me?”
“Where’d you ever get that idea?” He fisted the bottom and yanked it to the ground.
“Oh my God! I’m naked!” Holly pretended to be embarrassed, but he wasn’t fooled.
Dan pulled her down on top of him on the couch. He kissed her neck. Holly stretched out and placed her lips over his. He maneuvered them on their sides then flipped her under him. Though he’d expected to be tired, winning had energized him. He slid his hands under her, pulling her up against him, and his hungry mouth sought hers. He parted her knees with his.
“I want you,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
“Now?”
“Now.”
One hand cupped her breast while the other squeezed her thigh then moved up. Urgency tightened his muscles. He closed his teeth on her soft flesh, fighting to hold back from inflicting pain. He needed her, had to have her, own her, consume her right then and there.
She fumbled with his buttons, managing to undo two or three—enough to slide her hand across his chest. The touch of her fingertips sent a shiver through him. Damn, the girl knew how to stroke a man.
He couldn’t call it love. Want, need, lack of control—there must be a hundred other words or phrases for it. He peered into her eyes, which were blue brilliant with passion. Turning her on dialed his desire up a thousand. His fingers found her center. She was already wet. She must feel it too. What we have. He drove his digits into her, roughly, only scaling back at her sharp intake of breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’m okay.”
He could wait no longer. Unzipping his pants, he released his dick, hard as a brick wall, and eased it into her waiting warmth. No working like a slave to flip her switch. She turned on almost as fast as he did. One of the many things he loved about her. Love? No, wait, like. Yeah, like, a lot, about her.
Once inside he pushed up on his knees and grabbed her hips. She groaned his name. He pumped into her with all he had. She raised one knee to her chest, then the other, and he went in as far as possible. Her tight muscles held him, caressed him, excited him.
Dan tried to hold on, to prolong their union, but his control slipped. She cried out, her hips moving rhythmically, her thighs holding him tight. Her eyes shut, and her tongue licked her lower lip. Her orgasm sent him over the edge. His balls tightened and release swept through him like a tsunami. His eyes closed so tight that red appeared before them while pleasure rocketed through his body, making it shudder.
She dipped her fingers under his shirt and raked her nails down his back.
Cupping her cheeks with his palms, he planted a tender kiss. “I’m sorry if I was a little rough.”
“That’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”
“Never felt anything like that before. Just needed you. Right away.”
She smoothed the backs of her fingers down his cheek, shaved clean for the game. “Your face is like a baby’s bottom.”
“Oh? And how many baby bottoms have you felt?”
She giggled. “Not many. I like this. I mean, I like scruff too. Don’t get me wrong. But this is nice, very nice. No beard burn.”
He eased out of her and back on his haunches to stare at her flesh. “You’re so beautiful. I could look at you for days, months, even.” Maybe a lifetime? He shook his head slightly to banish that thought.
“So are you. Handsome, I mean.”
As he was about to kiss her again, the buzzer sounded.
“Crap! The food!” he said.
She slipped out from under him and scurried into the bedroom, forgetting her towel on the floor. As he ambled to the intercom, he zipped up and fished in his back pocket for his wallet.
Returning from the front door holding a large shopping bag that smelled delicious, he found her in the kitchen, wrapped in a fluffy, white robe, setting out plates.
“You’re never quiet. Never stop moving.”
“Nope.”
He rested his hand on her arm. “Let me do this. Let me set it up and serve you?”
“You’re the one with the terrific game. I should be honoring you.”
“You already did,” he whispered
, nuzzling her neck.
“I think I…” she started, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned back into him. Then, she stopped, they opened wide, and color filled her cheeks.
“You what?”
“Never mind.”
Was she going to say she loved me? Do I want her to? He ducked his head and fled to the counter, opening the bag. Realizing he did want her to love him stole his breath and set his nerves on edge. His pulse kicked up and heat filled his chest.
Dan got busy setting the chicken out on a platter. He retrieved the potato salad, coleslaw, and macaroni salad from the bag and went in search of serving spoons. He placed each item on the table, keeping his gaze lowered. If he looked up, she might see love on his face, in his eyes. That would never do.
After all, she’d be leaving, and who knows when he’d see her again? The thought he’d been fighting to keep out of his brain landed with a thud. He couldn’t bear the idea she’d be somewhere he couldn’t get to, and who knew for how long? She could be gone for a year or more. It all depended on the appeal and the sentencing. What if something happened? She’d need him to keep her safe, right? Or would she have security guards? Not twenty-four/seven.
How could he go that long without her? Damn. Shit. Shit. Shit. Yeah, it’s love. He rummaged through the silverware drawer and found two forks and knives. She didn’t make eye contact with him either. Maybe she feels the same way.
They ate in silence, politely passing the dishes and munching on fried chicken. Suddenly ashamed of himself, he looked up. Dan Alexander had never shied away from the truth in his whole life. He’d always been honest, always faced things square on. Now was no time to break that pattern.
He put down his fork and took her left hand in both of his. She glanced up briefly then down again. He reached out and tipped her chin. Her stunning eyes, often coolly blue, gazed at him with warmth.
“I love you, Holly. Didn’t plan to. It just happened.”
Chapter Twelve
Could this be happening to her? She blinked at him, and her mouth opened a little, but no sound came out. She’d never expected him to fall for her. A fling, a convenience, easy sex—a hundred things it could be, but never love. Sure, she loved him, who wouldn’t? He was a great guy, even if he didn’t remember to take his shoes off before coming into the house.
“You do?”
He nodded, color seeping up his neck.
“I love you too. Why do you love me?”
He laughed. “Give me a roll of toilet paper, and I’ll make a list.”
With that, he leaned across the table and kissed her.
They skipped desert and went straight to the bedroom. The steam generated there made the shower room at the stadium look like a mere mizzle. Emotion filled the air, seeping into Holly’s heart. Kisses heated to white hot, touches ignited flames. Driven by mutual love, the pair achieved a level of satisfaction previously unknown.
Dazed, exhausted, sleepy, Holly drifted off clutched tightly to the chest of her lover.
They awoke grinning. Shyness gripped her. No one had ever said they loved her before. Despite her wealthy sophistication, she hesitated before speaking to or touching Dan.
“Hey, pretty girl. Time to get up,” he said, leaning over her to switch off the alarm. On the way back, he kissed her nose.
“Did you? Did we? Did you really mean it?” She pushed a lock of hair off his forehead.
Dan took her hand and kissed the palm. “Yes. Absolutely. I’ve got to get to the stadium.”
She dressed while he showered. In the car, they shared a new type of quiet. Exchanging looks, fingers touching on the seat, and small smiles made the ride go quickly. Afraid Bud would see happiness in her eyes, she lowered her gaze as she filled her cart.
“What’s up with you and Dan?”
“Nothing much.” She tried to slip away, but he grabbed her arm.
“Hold on, Holly. Not buyin’ that.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a lotta noise in the locker room about Dan. You and Dan. So, what gives?”
“Well, we’re living together for the few weeks I have before I face the trial. Period. End of report.”
Bud grinned. “Nah. It’s more than that. The guys think Dan’s shopping for a diamond ring. Any truth to that?”
She shook her head. “No. I doubt that. Absolutely not.”
Bud winked at her. “Right. Your secret is safe with me.” He walked back to the concession stand and began filling another cart.
Holly shrugged and headed for her aisle. She’d hoped to keep her relationship with Dan a secret, but obviously that wasn’t happening. She chuckled to herself to note that men gossiped about romance as much as women. For a moment, she stopped to consider the idea of him proposing to her. She shook it off and turned her mind to hot dogs.
Standing for the national anthem, she watched Dan run out on the field. Pride filled her heart. He was so tall and handsome, strong and talented. And for a few more days, he was all hers. She raised her voice in song, hand over her chest.
When it was over, Dan turned and tipped his cap to her. What he didn’t know was that five of his teammates, behind him, tipped their caps to Holly too. Her mouth fell open as she watched his buddies. Then, she laughed.
The days rolled by quickly. Holly and Dan fell into a comfortable routine. She made a second attempt at Nancy’s beef stew and was successful. He brought her flowers and complimented her cooking.
She fought hard to keep the deadline of her fantasy life out of her thoughts. From time to time, she’d wake up in the middle of the night, shrug on a robe, and pad out to the living room. Staring at the lights of New York City and New Jersey, across the Hudson River, she worried about her future. Finally ready to step forward and do the right thing, she doubted her relationship with Dan would survive.
How long would she have to be away? Probably until the appeal was over or the sentencing. She didn’t know. The District Attorney would tell her. Dan wouldn’t wait forever—what man would? She sighed, reaching deep inside to find feelings of gratitude. Yes, she needed to be grateful for the time she had had with him.
But, being human, she wanted more. She wanted a lifetime, but that would never happen. She yawned, headed back to bed, and curled up next to her lover. Exhaustion claimed her, and she returned to a dreamless slumber.
* * * *
Three days before the trial, Holly called the district attorney’s office. “Mr. Housman, please.”
“Who’s calling?”
“Holly Merrill.”
“Is he expecting your call?”
“Oh, yes. And I think he’ll be very glad to hear from me.”
After a few moments, the receptionist connected her.
“Miss Merrill?” a deep, male voice asked.
“Yes.”
“Fantastic! I can’t believe it. I hope you know you have a civic duty to—”
“Relax! Yes. I know. I’ll be at the trial. And afterward?”
“You can either leave on your own, or we’ll put you back in witness protection, in a different location, of course.”
“That’s fine. I’ll need that, won’t I?”
“If he mounts an appeal, which I’m sure he will, then, yes, it would be safer for you to be in the program.”
“Can you guess how long that would be?”
“No idea. I can try to expedite things, but I can’t make any promises. Will that be a problem?”
“No. I’m ready to come forward. I know it’s the right thing to do.”
“You have no idea how happy I am. I was sure you were dead.”
“Just hiding. In plain sight.”
“Wherever it was, it worked. Maybe we should give you a job in the protection program,” Mr. Housman joked.
“No, thanks. I have one favor to ask.”
“Let’s go over your testimony first. Then, you can ask whatever you want.” Al Housman gave Holly his address.
She hung up and swa
llowed. The deed was done, and the wheels were in motion to take her out of this nightmare. At that moment, she wondered why she hadn’t done it sooner. Of course, if she hadn’t needed to hide, she wouldn’t be at the stadium. She never would have met Dan. Perhaps this had been a lucky break of sorts?
Dan took her back to the Trieste for dinner on their last night together. Emotions caught in her throat, and she couldn’t speak. Her appetite evaporated. She nursed a glass of chianti and toyed with her spaghetti and meatballs. The pitcher chowed down, digging into his manicotti. Holly watched. He even chews cute.
“Something wrong with the spaghetti?” he asked.
She shook her head. Words stuck in her throat, and tears threatened.
“Can I taste?” When she nodded, he reached over with his fork. ‘This is great. If you don’t want it, we should take it home. You’ll be hungry later.”
“You sound like my grandma.”
“Grandma? Not mother?”
“Nope. Grandma. Mom never kept track of what I ate.”
“Geez.” He twirled another forkful.
Her stomach rumbled, but nothing tasted good.
“See. You are hungry. You gotta eat. Tomorrow’s going to be a tough day.”
“You’re telling me.”
“I wish I could hold your hand.”
“It’s okay. Al Housman will be there.”
Dan looked up. “Is he married?” He narrowed his eyes.
“I have no idea. Honestly, you can’t be worried about him. He’s probably fifty and bald.”
“He’d better be,” the pitcher muttered.
They strolled back to the apartment hand-in-hand. Holly leaned closer, resting her head on his shoulder. He took the hint and wound his arm around her. Her belly was empty, but it was her heart that ached worst of all.
Dan put the leftovers in the fridge then headed for the bedroom. “Time for bed.”
“It’s only eight thirty.”
“Come on, girl.” He held out his hand, and she obeyed. “I want to take my time. This has got to last me,” he said, stripping down.
Dan Alexander, Pitcher Page 15
