After making her way to the lobby, Katherine found Tom sitting at the bar in the lounge with a drink in front of him. Judging from the orange liquid in the glass, it looked like a screwdriver. From some reason she assumed beer to be his alcohol of choice, not a mixed drink.
She slid onto the stool next to him. If he was surprised to see her, it wasn’t evident in his eyes. He gave her a nod, then picked up his glass.
“Do you know where Trey is?” she asked.
He sipped his drink, then set the glass on the bar, next to his phone. “Holed up in his room since the team got back from the game.” He pointed at the phone. “Seth just texted me that he’s still there. Safe and sound.”
Katherine expelled a relieved breath. “I’m glad to hear it. Now let’s hope Ava doesn’t find out his room number.” She paused as Tom shot her a puzzled glance. “She called me looking for either his cell phone number or his room number.”
“Shit.”
“My sentiments exactly.” Katherine waved the bartender away with a smile. “Nothing for me, thanks.” The bartender nodded, then moved along to the end of the bar. “So much for my theory that she only flew to Denver to meet with a potential buyer for the Blaze.”
“I’m sure that’s the main reason.” Tom glanced at the television mounted above the bar. “Before you showed up, the two analysts on ESPN were speculating on the fate of the team. You’re not the only one who noticed Ava and Carlton Sprigg’s powwow in the skybox.”
“I don’t get it. There are plenty of men in the Bay Area.” She folded her arms on the bar. “Why can’t she go after the ones who aren’t her employees?”
Tom shrugged. “Maybe she’s developed a fascination for ballplayers.”
“Then she should wait until she sells the team,” Katherine grumbled.
“But then she wouldn’t have the power. That’s what sexual harassment is all about. Having a measure of power over a person so they feel compelled to do whatever you want them to do.” The bartender headed back their way. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” Tom asked.
“No. I need a clear head.” She looked pointedly at his glass. “But don’t let me stop you if you want another one.”
Tom cocked his head and fixed her with a hard stare. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?”
“Not a thing.” She placed her palms on the edge of the bar and slid off the stool. “I just wanted to warn you that Ava’s on the prowl.” She glanced at his glass. “Carry on,” she said with a sardonic edge in her voice, then turned and left the bar.
Once she returned to her room, she’d barely slipped off her flats when there was a sharp knock on her door. Praying it wasn’t Ava McCandless paying her an unsolicited visit, she cautiously approached the door. “Who is it?”
“Open up. We need to talk.”
The steel in Tom’s voice heightened her pulse. She supposed she was a bit rude before she’d left the bar, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She still couldn’t reconcile the Tom who drank and wrapped his truck around a tree with the Tom she knew and loved in high school. Nor could she forget what a drunk driver had cost her. She smoothed her hair, then took a steadying breath and opened the door.
“What the hell is with all the innuendos about my drinking?” Tom demanded as he brushed past her and into the room.
“Innuendos?” She closed the door and turned to meet his fierce scowl. Yep. She’d ticked him off.
“Yes. Innuendos. And I don’t appreciate it.”
“I know about your accident, and the DUI.”
“Everyone knows about it. It made the national news,” he said, voice stony. “But it was a long time ago. I’ve moved past it.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “Are you still drinking?”
“What’s it to you if I am? It’s not like you care about me one way or another. You made that clear years ago.”
“I care because people who drink and drive don’t realize how impaired they are. You have no idea what kind of damage drunk drivers can cause. But I do. I—” She abruptly silenced herself and took a breath to cover her near slip. “I—I’m personally responsible for reaching out to the CHP on behalf of the Blaze. We sponsor anti-DUI public service announcements and host special events throughout the season.”
Tom cocked his head, a frown furrowing his brow. “CHP?”
“California Highway Patrol. And I’ve volunteered for years at a local nonprofit that specializes in educating the public about drinking and driving. Did you know that someone is injured by a drunk driver every ninety seconds? It’s tragic.” She gestured toward him with her hand. “You never drank in high school. What happened when you got to UT?”
He glared at her, his eyes suddenly filled with bitterness. “How can you ask me that? You know what happened.”
“No. I don’t. Was everyone else doing it? Did you give in to peer pressure?”
“If it makes you feel better to believe that, then yeah, I gave in to peer pressure.” He moved toward her in a smooth athletic motion. “Satisfied?”
She should be, but she wasn’t. For some unfathomable reason, she couldn’t let the drinking go. “No. You didn’t answer my question. Are you still drinking?”
“You seem to think I am,” he shot back as he halted in front of her. His clean masculine scent surrounded her and triggered memories she’d never been able to completely forget. “But whether I am or not, it’s none of your business. Any say you had in my life ended a long time ago. I don’t answer to you, Katie. You have no call butting into my life after all these years.”
“I’m not butting into your life.” She lifted her chin and silently cursed the intense longing those remembrances evoked. Suddenly the anger faded from his eyes and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
Her cheeks burned. Damn it. The beauty mark. When they were together Tom had told her a multitude of times how sexy he found it. Now he was staring at it with such intensity she could almost feel the warmth of his lips on her skin. Her heart beat an erratic rhythm. She swallowed hard as electricity throbbed between them and erotic visions from the past played in her head.
Visions that included her exploring every inch of Tom’s muscular body with her lips and her tongue. Learning what he liked, what drove him crazy and what made him moan with pleasure. She’d tried so hard to forget, but this moment was absolute proof that despite everything he’d done, she’d never gotten Tom Morgan out of her system. In an almost-imperceptible move, she leaned forward, drawn to his firm, sensual mouth like a magnet.
Stop!
The warning cry in her head jerked her back to rational thought, and the sexually charged moment passed. She schooled her expression and, thankfully, had the presence of mind to pick up the thread of their conversation. “It’s my job to make sure that what you and the team do doesn’t tarnish the Blaze brand.”
Annoyance narrowed his eyes. “Have I ever done anything to trash the team’s reputation?”
“No, but—”
“Have you ever seen me drunk?”
“No,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Then get off my back about drinking. You’ve got bigger things to worry about.”
Acutely aware of how close they were, Katherine took a step back from his tense, hard body. She raked her fingers through her hair, brushing it back in an effort to collect herself.
“You’re right,” she acknowledged. “As long as it doesn’t affect the team, what you do in your personal life doesn’t concern me.” She waved a dismissive hand. “As you said, I’ve got other things to worry about.” She paused. “Speaking of which. Ava made a veiled threat that I won’t have my job for much longer.”
“She’s the one who should be worried. Once the commissioner and the other owners find out about Trey’s complaint she may be forced to sell the team, if she’s not seriously considering it already.”
“I hope the harassment situation doesn’t become a huge media circus. If the press gets wind o
f it, you can bet they’ll have a field day with it.”
“I spoke with Trey this morning. He’s not interested in going public. He just wants her to stop coming on to him.”
Katherine bit her lower lip, contemplating what lay ahead. “Why do I have the feeling it’s not going to be that easy?”
Chapter Ten
Late Monday afternoon, from his spot in the Arizona Diamondbacks visitors’ dugout, Tom made eye contact with his third-base coach and communicated his instructions via a sequence of hand signals. In rapid succession he touched his nose, chest, belt, ear, nose again, then his wrist, belt and thigh.
During each game, he and his coaches used hundreds of seemingly elaborate signals, each part of a unique strategy that expressed to the players what they were to do in any given situation. The Blaze’s third baseman, Zack Jamison, who just happened to have the most steals in the National League, had patiently gritted out a walk and now, poised on first base, was the go-ahead run. There were no outs in the top of the ninth inning, and the score was tied at three all. Everyone at Chase Field expected Zack to attempt a steal. They weren’t wrong. By touching his wrist when signaling to the third-base coach, Tom had given the okay for Zack to steal second base.
The steal was always risky, but the Arizona reliever had a weak arm and Zack was an outstanding runner. In this case, the reward—getting the runner into scoring position—was worth the risk.
Just as the D-Backs’ pitcher released the ball, dirt from the infield flew up in the air as Zack shot off of first base and raced toward second. The catcher immediately threw the ball to second, where the baseman fielded it and applied the tag to Zack’s outstretched arm as he slid face-first into the base bag. The umpire, who was right on top of the play, spread his hands and yelled, “Safe.”
The guys in the dugout cheered wildly, but Tom kept his expression neutral as Zack got to his feet and dusted off his uniform. He’d learned long ago to downplay his emotions during a game. As the leader of the team, he couldn’t afford to get emotional while a game was still in progress.
As the D-Backs’ catcher motioned for time and trotted toward the pitcher’s mound, Tom took the opportunity to survey the bench. At the far end, Trey sat by himself, staring blankly at the field. A normal occurrence on the days he pitched and his concentration was locked in the zone. But on days when he wasn’t the starter, he usually congregated with the other players, alternately watching the game and cheering and joking with his fellow teammates.
Early this morning, on the charter plane from Denver, Trey had been unusually quiet. After settling in his seat, he’d slipped on his headphones, closed his eyes and tuned everyone else out. Again, not his normal behavior.
Tom could only attribute it to Trey’s nervousness about the upcoming Human Resources investigation. Ava McCandless had reportedly flown back to San Francisco earlier this afternoon. At least Trey didn’t have to worry about her stalking him at the hotel where the team was staying while in Phoenix.
As far as he knew, Katie hadn’t yet spoken to Martha, which led him to believe the Human Resources executive hadn’t yet returned from South Dakota. Despite the tension between them, he firmly believed Katie would have told him if she’d been able to discuss the Trey situation with Martha.
It had become patently apparent to him that she believed he still had a drinking problem. Maybe a lot of people did. He’d never publically announced that he started going to AA after the DUI or that he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since the night of the accident. As far as he was concerned, it was nobody else’s business but his. But since his name was no longer mentioned when it came to partying and behaving badly, you’d think she’d have figured out he was no longer the guy who had to have a drink (or six) in order to have a good time. And why was she so fixated on it, anyway? He’d seen her sipping champagne at Matt and Kelly’s engagement party, so it wasn’t like she was a teetotaler. He could have come right out and told her he’d been sober for years, but her holier-than-thou attitude ticked him off.
Just then, as if sensing he was being watched, Trey turned his head and met Tom’s gaze. His sober expression didn’t change, but he gave Tom a nod, then swung his attention back to the field. Tom’s gut told him that something wasn’t right with Trey. Once the game was over, he intended to find out what it was.
* * *
After what seemed like the longest day in recent history, Katherine paid the driver, then slid out of the cab that had transported her from Chase Field to the hotel. The blistering heat wrapped around her like a fiery blanket, and it wouldn’t surprise her one bit if the expression hotter than hell had been coined right here in Phoenix. The only saving grace was that it wasn’t as humid as Dallas. After years of living in San Francisco, she had turned into a certified wuss when it came to hot and humid weather.
The game, which the Blaze had won, had been over for a couple of hours and the team had already been transported to the hotel. She’d stayed behind to meet with the Diamondbacks’ community programs manager as well as their director of media relations. She’d come away from those meetings highly impressed with the Diamondbacks’ community outreach programs, and with the team’s media staff as a whole. Although the Blaze and the D-Backs were rivals within the same division, Katherine had worked hard over the years to establish a respectful relationship with their front office. Something she tried to do with each team in the division—even their fiercest rivals, the Los Angeles Dodgers.
To escape the scorching heat, she hurried to the entrance, thanked the bellman who held the door open for her, then breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air in the elegantly appointed lobby washed over her. How did people survive in the desert before air-conditioning was invented? She strode toward the elevator while digging into her tote bag for the key card to her room.
Just as she located the card, she looked up and almost ran smack-dab into a woman standing near one of the plush wingback chairs not far from the bank of elevators. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, putting a hand on the woman’s arm so as to not knock her over.
Startled, the woman turned around, and Katherine’s smile faltered when the woman’s friendly expression turned into a dark glower. It had been a while since she’d been face-to-face with her, but Katherine recognized the stylishly dressed blonde immediately.
“Sheila,” she said, pasting the smile back on her face and lowering her hand. Many years ago, before Sheila left Dallas for college in San Francisco, they’d been on friendly terms. But there was no welcoming vibe emanating from Tom’s sister now. Quite the opposite. “It’s so nice to see you. How are you?”
“Doing well,” Sheila said, her tone cool and her blue eyes even more so. The term frigid came to mind, actually. “I’m waiting for Tom. We’re having supper together.”
“That’s nice.” Katherine fidgeted with the handle of her tote. Not that she expected a hug or anything, but Sheila’s obvious disdain surprised her. “Here in the hotel?”
“No.” Sheila consulted her watch. “We’re going to a restaurant nearby. He should be here any second.”
“Did you enjoy the game?”
Sheila nodded. “Yes. Thank you for arranging for the tickets.”
Katherine waved a hand. “Oh, it was no problem at all. I’m glad I could do it.” The silence that ensued was so uncomfortable that Katherine scrambled to fill it. “How’s your mother doing?”
“Fine,” Sheila replied curtly, her glower still firmly in place.
“How’s your graphic design business?” Katherine tried again.
“Expanding. I’ve hired two new employees.”
“That’s wonderful.”
A tense silence fell between them. Sheila searched Katherine’s face with frosty eyes, and a wrinkle appeared across her brow. “Since you’re so full of questions, let me ask you one. Why’d you do it?”
“Do what?” she asked, taken aback by Sheila’s accusatory tone.
“Break my brother’s heart.” As Kat
herine’s mouth fell open, Sheila swiftly raised her hand. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know,” she said, and raked Katherine with a contemptuous gaze. “I know you two have to deal with each other professionally, but do me a favor and keep away from him outside of work. It took years, but he’s finally back on the right track. I don’t want you messing with his head a second time.”
Before Katherine could formulate a response, Sheila brushed past her. Still too stunned to speak, Katherine turned and watched Sheila march stiffly to the other side of the lobby. For a second she considered following her to demand an explanation. Break Tom’s heart? Where in the blue blazes did Sheila come up with that? What outlandish story had Tom told his sister to make her think he’d been the injured party in their breakup?
She stared at Sheila’s rigid back for several seconds, then shook her head. Of course Sheila would take Tom’s side. She was his sister. It wouldn’t do any good to try to set her straight. Better to leave it alone and let Sheila believe what she wanted to believe. With a resigned sigh, Katherine continued on toward the elevators.
As she waited for one of the cars to arrive, she absently tapped her key card against her palm. A long cool shower would be heaven right now, and since she had time to kill before meeting Dorie and Lily for dinner, that shower was next on her agenda.
So far Lily was having a blast on the road trip, and according to Dorie had been posting pictures of her exploits on her Facebook page on an almost hourly basis. It would be a treat to hear Lily’s take on the past few days.
The elevator she was standing the closest to chimed and the doors opened. Katherine hung back, waiting for the occupants to exit. The last person to step off the elevator was Tom. Her pulse kicked up a notch as he halted in front of her and his freshly showered scent drifted into her senses.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked politely.
“Of course,” she said, and moved with him to stand a few feet from the entrance to the lobby. While she was hot and sticky, and no doubt looked it, he looked calm, cool and drop-dead gorgeous in his jeans and light blue button-up shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms, and the faded jeans drew her attention to his muscular thighs. Damn it all. It should be against the law for one man to be that hot. And sexy. And smell so good.
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