Sweeping the Series

by Kate Stewart

  “I’ve told you all about him. I just left out who he was.”

  “That’s a pretty fucking big detail, Erica. Woman, he’s the most beautiful man on the planet! Like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said, placing her hand on her chest. “I don’t know how you handled that.”

  “His looks were never an issue for us. He used to hate being labeled a pretty boy,” I said ironically. “I guess he’s finally using it to his advantage.”

  “It all make’s sense now,” she said, piecing it together. “Why you hate watching baseball.”

  “He’s one of the reasons, now. My mom is the other.”

  Rowe nodded. She knew enough to put the pieces together. “So exactly what happened between you two?”

  “I didn’t wait around to see,” I said with a thickening throat. “I couldn’t, Rowe.”

  “In a way, I get it,” she said thoughtfully. “But, Ren Makavoy! Tell me he was as good as he looks.”

  “Better than anything you can imagine,” I said softly.

  “Do you regret it?” she asked carefully.

  “For as long as it took for him to make his first headline.” I closed my eyes as a bitter laugh escaped. “How could I regret it now?” The threatening lump dissolved as damning images of him surrounded by a sea of silicone tits flashed through my mind. “He turned into exactly what I was afraid of.”

  She looked at me with doe eyes and glossed lips. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

  “Yes and no. He’s ruined my opinion of him, right along with everyone else’s. I know not all that’s printed is the real story, but if half of its true, he’s not the guy I knew. He got caught up in the celebrity of it all, I guess. There’s nothing there to hold on to. I’m moving on,” I said with a grin. “Thanks to you.”

  Rowe pursed her lips.

  “What?”

  “It’s just that you haven’t dated much this last year. Like, at all.”

  “I have,” I defended weakly.

  “Yeah, right,” she deadpanned.

  “I’ve been busy at the firm. You know that.”

  Rowe nodded. “Fine. Blame the firm.” Before I had a chance to argue, she stood. “Erica, you can do this. I want you to call me every damn day.”

  “I know I can,” I sighed. “I just don’t want to.”

  She squeezed my shoulders as if she was prepping me for war. “Listen to me, woman. You can do this. You are the toughest bitch I know. Just be the annoying professional you are and get it done.”

  I groaned as I zipped my suitcase. “I have to trail him like a club wife all over the country. It’s ironic, isn’t it? This is exactly what I didn’t want.”

  She stood and smoothed out her dress. “If there’s one thing I know about you. Erica Wild, it’s that you know how to play ball.”

  A sharp laugh escaped despite my mood. “That’s the cheesiest pun I’ve ever heard in my life,” I said with a smile.

  “Give him hell, babe,” she said before she pulled me into a hug. “And call me if you need backup.”

  Jerked awake as the wheels of the plane touched down, I mourned the last of my New York reality. Ten months of my life were about to revolve around baseball and Ren, and I didn’t know which I dreaded more. It was like a jail sentence, or I was paying penance for leaving him, or both. City lights twinkled out of the dirty window and distracted me as the captain spoke about the time and temperature. I’d never been to Scottsdale and had no desire to. I hated the heat. It was a good thing the weather would be bearable for spring training.

  I pulled my abused suitcase from the overhead compartment and hailed a cab to the hotel. To my surprise, the hotel was a small consolation. Zellner had his secretary arrange my stay, and if I had no other comfort, at least I could take solace in the posh surroundings of my temporary home.

  My shoulders sagged in relief for the first time that day, until I heard a familiar laugh come from the bar just across the lobby. Ren was a room away. Momentarily stunned, I took a deep breath.

  An older man greeted me at the front desk. “Welcome to Paradise Valley.”

  I bit my lip in an attempt to hold in my sarcastic reply. “Thanks,” I said dryly.

  “Wild, Erica, checking in.”

  The desk clerk eyed me. “Wild?”

  “Yep,” I popped out, avoiding eye contact as another laugh crashed into my chest and threatened to rattle me.

  Don’t look. You know if you look around that corner you will see him. You need a night of prep. Just. Don’t. Look!

  “They are making a little noise tonight,” the clerk said with a chuckle. “They’ve calmed down a bit. Training starts in two days.” The man, in his upper fifties, leaned over to me conspiratorially with wide eyes. “Baseball. Major Leagues.”

  I had no choice but to smile. “Ah, I see.”

  “They shouldn’t be a problem for you,” he assured me.

  My smile still plastered, I spoke through my teeth. “From your lips to God’s ears.”

  “I’ve got you in room 212, and the bellman will take up your bag.”

  “No need,” I said as I took the keycard. “I’m all set.”

  “Enjoy your stay, Ms. Wild.”

  “Thank you.”

  The next laugh shattered my resolve. Using a rubber plant as camouflage, I peeked around the corner. I recognized Hembrey, the pitcher, first. He’d made a fast track from the Minors and pitched his way onto one of the best teams in the Majors. And standing opposite him with a beer in hand was Ren.

  I fought for breath as I took in his tall, muscular frame in dark jeans that clung to his thick thighs and perfect ass. The T-shirt he modeled was unfit for the classy bar. Except it wasn’t the clothes that made him stand out. It was the way he held himself.

  He had a Denver cap on backward that hid his thick black hair. And I knew if he glanced my way, I’d be paralyzed where I stood, like the first time I saw him three years ago. No other man I’d ever met had the soul-stealing eyes of Ren Makavoy. And no man ever would. My pulse kicked up as I studied his profile made up of dark, thick lashes, high cheekbones, full lips, and a masculine jaw. He was a living dream.

  And at one point in time, he had been mine and I his, and now we were total strangers. The man I knew wasn’t a playboy. Sure, he was cocky to a point and assured of his talent. But off the field, he was a different kind of man. He dreamed of having a family, baseball, and little else. And though his dreams weren’t very original, they were the dreams of a man who grew up with nothing. So, for Ren, that made them big. He was a closet nerd behind his perfect structure and sexy swagger. Ren had the perfect mathematical brain for ball, and that was one of the aces he carried up his sleeve. And I doubted any of the women he’d bedded in the last few years knew how excited he got when a new Transformer movie trailer came out. Or that he color-coded his closet. Or that he was a germaphobe and sanitized everything.

  And every one of those quirks had me falling harder for him than I’d ever imagined possible. Even when I told him we wouldn’t happen within the first ten minutes of meeting him. Even when I let him kiss me that night after he pulled his first card trick to get the date. Two years apart seemed like nothing as I gazed at him only feet away.

  Aching to see his vivid, neon blue eyes, I watched him as a flood of precious moments filtered through my aching brain.

  “What happened to you?” I murmured across the space between us.

  As if he knew someone was watching him, he began to turn his head my way. Within seconds, I was safely on the elevator, chest heaving and throat on fire.

  With the doors safely closed, I sank against the weight of the feelings that threatened to stir. I was nowhere near ready to face him. Ren was one of those men that physically stunned with his looks, paralyzing you before he devoured you. And when he struck, he did it with precision. Nerdy quirks aside, the man knew how to use it to his advantage.

  I’d talked a fair game to Rowe, but I knew without any doubt
my mental game had to be strong to face him head-on. My attraction to him went far deeper than his skin, always had, but the man’s beauty was a tough thing to press past. It was no exaggeration that he was one of the best-looking men alive. And I had first-hand knowledge of what it felt like to have his full attention. I shivered at the memory of his mouth, fingers, and tongue.

  Walking on Jell-O legs toward my room door, I cursed the weakness in me and pressed the key card in before I burst into my room and tried to catch my breath. An hour later, and after a very expensive mini bar raid, I felt the tension start to ease.

  In less than twelve hours, I would have to face those eyes, but it didn’t mean I had to rehash our past. I may have a weakness for the man, but I damned sure didn’t have to show it, and any feelings I had left were for the former version of Ren.

  I was in charge of fixing his reputation. It was a job. He was a job, no more. And I would handle it like I did everything else. Despite my earlier remark to Rowe, who was a safe world away, she was right. It was time to play ball.

  I’d been summoned to another meeting about my behavior. My last. I would be damned if I made the same mistakes this season. If there were a hand to shake or a baby to kiss, I would do it. I would become the baseball equivalent of an ass-kissing politician. It didn’t matter that I hated being in the public eye, aside from ball. It was part of the program. They didn’t call it “The Big Show” for nothing.

  So, while I may have earned my reputation—lashing out at the douche bags who taunted me with their cameras while inadvertently slipping into the role of a womanizer—I knew it was time to clean it up.

  This season I was determined to turn that around. I didn’t have it in me to keep up the charade anymore. I was going mute. As silent as a church mouse. But as much as I hated admitting that to Jake, the assistant coach who had scheduled the meeting, I was hard pressed to try and stop the shit storm I was about to walk into.

  “Jake, I’ve got it covered,” I assured as we walked down the hall toward one of the conference rooms of the hotel.

  “Don’t bother pleading your case,” he said, refusing to glance my way.

  I blew out a slow breath of frustration and kept my pace just behind him. Resolved to deal with whatever shit they decided to dish out, I kept my mouth shut and followed him through the door. It was only when I saw the woman sitting at the head of the conference table that I faltered.

  Jake looked back at me and nodded toward an empty chair. “Shut the door and take a seat, Makavoy.”

  But the sight in front of me—long, dark hair I could still feel dance over my skin, large round brown eyes, lashes for days, and perfect, plump lips—rendered that order impossible. Shock filtered through my system as I looked on at the only woman I ever loved. Cool as ice, she sat in her seat, her gaze locked on her tablet.

  Jake cleared his throat, and I saw her reluctantly lift her eyes to meet mine. There was a beat of recognition, a flicker of the two us in them before her gaze moved back to the iPad in her hand.

  I already knew her play.

  I bit my lip to hide my smile and took a seat at the opposite end of the table. I felt the solid burn, the inescapable urge to feast on her. It had been too damn long.

  Two years. Two fucking years I’d waited to set eyes on her again, and I was going to take my time. I let them drift from the table back to her. She was furiously typing out a text on her phone before she set it down to face me head-on. “Morning, gentlemen. Good to see you, Ren,” she said evenly.

  “Likewise, Erica,” I mused as I soaked in her flawless face.

  She looked sharp and completely unfazed. She’d been ready, but I was still reeling. Her hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, and I clenched my fists at the urge to free it. She was every bit of the woman I remembered, but even more beautiful. Time had been kind to her and a motherfucker to me.

  Jake took the seat next to her. “You two know each other?”

  “We’re well acquainted,” she said sharply, dismissing the year we spent together.

  But I wasn’t about to let it go and leaned in Jake’s direction. “Very well acquainted. We—”

  “Baseball is a small world,” Erica said, cutting me off and turning to Jake. “Shall we start?”

  I kept my eyes on her as she handed her iPad to him. “This is what I propose.”

  Jake scanned it and nodded toward me. “Erica is with Zellner PR, New York. We got the call from Walter yesterday that you’d taken it upon yourself to relieve him of his position. She will be representing you throughout this season.”

  All amusement left my face. “You mean the team?”

  “No, I mean you, Ren,” he said pointedly. “Do you see the rest of the team in here? Whatever objections you have, I frankly don’t want to fucking hear them.”

  I let out a chuckle. “Not even the fact that I gave this woman her first orgasm?”

  Erica shook her head as if she was prepared for that, her demeanor unchanged. She gave me a stone gaze. “Ren, let’s be adults. I’m here to help you.”

  Unable to resist, I raised my hand like a good boy.

  “For Christ’s sake,” Jake said as he glared over at me. “Ren, this is my last time walking you to school. Either let this happen, or I’ll make goddamn sure this season hurts. I’m over this shit. You aren’t the only catcher in the League.”

  “Nope,” I said confidently, crossing my arms, “but I’m the catcher you need.”

  Erica chose that moment to jump in and hand my ass to me.

  “You snub your teammates. You’re the only man in the League with an all-woman fan club. You’ve got zero respect from those you need it from. And you’ve lost millions of dollars in endorsements because of your indiscretions. So, you tell me, Ren, does Jake need to be explaining this to you? Does anyone? You want to be taken seriously as an athlete? I’ll do my best to turn this around, but I need your full cooperation.”

  I could see it then, in her eyes, I repulsed her. She wasn’t acting anything like the woman that left me shattered. She was shrewd, cold, yet so fucking beautiful. I hated the way she looked at me. I expected it, but it got under my skin. Still, I felt the bittersweet relief of just sharing space with her.

  Cornered in a way I’d never imagined possible, but just as easily as I had done three years ago, I handed her my fate. Because I had no choice.

  “All right then, Erica. Tell me,” I said, steepling my fingers underneath my chin, “how do you plan on fixing me?” I couldn’t resist sucking my bottom lip. Her eyes flared.

  “There’s no fixing you, Ren. It’s all about perception, and before this season ends, we’ll make them all believers.”

  I leaned forward, determined to keep her engaged. “Make them believe what, exactly?”

  “That you’re an athlete with a heart for and to play baseball. Because that’s all you have left.”

  Touché, Ms. Wild, but you made it so ball was all I had left.

  I kept that comment to myself. This had to be a pre-season gift from the god of baseball. Not only did I have her attention, I would have her all season. I’d had two years to think about why she left me so callously. Two years of a well-deserved explanation I had every intention of getting.

  She stood and shook hands with Jake before she walked in my direction. I tilted my head back to get a good look at her but remained planted in the leather chair. All business, she pushed a printed schedule in front of me. It was impossible to ignore the hint of mint in her hair, the vanilla scent on her skin, or the curve of her hips in the skirt she wore. Her long locks slid over her shoulders like silk. Silk I used to wrap in my fist before I rode her into screaming my name.

  “You’ll be working double time during training. This is your itinerary preliminary to the season. You will be doing multiple interviews due to the public interest you’ve provoked to start the trek back into the good graces of the fans. I have prepared some questions, and we will go over the answers in the morning.”


  I didn’t bother glancing at it as I studied her face, her eyes cast downward.

  “My cell number is on the top. I’ll be in touch.”

  Jake held the door open and closed it behind her with a “thank you” as she left. I unclenched my fists as he sat next to me. “She’s your one chance at turning this circus into something respectable.”

  I held my palms out in surrender. “I agree.”

  Jake’s brows drew, full of suspicion. “Don’t get any fucking cute ideas.”

  “I’m out of them, Jake. Scouts honor,” I said, folding the paper in half and sliding my fingers along it.

  “I doubt the Scouts would let you in. Don’t piss on her, Makavoy. Just let her do her job.”

  I had been a Scout, but he didn’t need to know that. “Like I said, Jake, I’ve got this covered. I’m done with all the bullshit. You can tell them, or I’ll tell them myself. Either way, I’m not for sale other than on the field. You might do well to remind them of that. My private life is just that: private.”

  “Your behavior off the field is a reflection on this team, Ren. You know that, and the fact that I must spend time away from what’s important to help manage your shit is ridiculous. Your contract’s up after the season. You might do well to remember that,” he said, snuffing out the rest of the argument.

  I’d gone too far, drawn too much negative attention to myself, to the team. My heart beat erratically in my chest as I thought of the repercussions of not signing for another season with Denver. I was throwing it all away.

  But in a way, I felt rewarded by the sight of the woman who just walked out the door. But because of her, ball was all I had. And my heart, well, that belonged to ball now, too, because she’d handed it back to me with enough seam scars to never forget it.

  Jake shut the door behind him as I absorbed Erica’s words. It was evident she had washed her hands of me when she left for New York; her actions had said as much. I knew without a doubt she didn’t want to have a thing to do with me in Arizona either. But before the season ended, I would make damn sure I got the satisfaction of an explanation.