Sliding Into Home

by Joanne Rock

  No sooner had the door closed behind the older man and the dogs than Delaney speared a hand through her thick, dark hair.

  “Is that what last night meant to you, Rick? A speed pass out of Atlanta to a team with a better shot at the playoffs?”

  Rick had a moment of empathy for the big game animals shot with a tranquilizer gun on those wildlife shows. He halted his forward momentum, stunned still by the accusation.

  “Excuse me?” He’d come to the house with every intention of making things right between him and Delaney. He’d never expected this kind of cold reception. “Were you present for the same night of passion as I was? I thought you approached me.”

  “Because I thought you were honorable and upstanding.” Her voice caught and he had a glimpse of the anxiety beneath the anger, but she was quick to hide any hint of vulnerability.

  Any hint of caring about him.

  That hurt.

  Without a doubt, Delaney Blair had developed the power to wound him after just one night together.

  “Maybe that’s because last night you trusted your gut instead of—” he gestured vaguely with one hand “—your father? The media? Whoever is giving you ideas that you know in your heart don’t apply to us or what happened.”

  He wanted to cross the room and touch her, pull her against him and remind her how electric their connection had been and how powerful it could be if they fed it. But what if she was the kind of woman who fled at the first sign of trouble? Maybe her upbringing in this privileged world on a family compound in Buckhead hadn’t prepared her for the kinds of challenges his career put him up against all the time.

  Although, in truth, the locker room escapade had more far-reaching consequences than the usual media flare-ups.

  “Well, excuse me for second-guessing myself when you barge in here demanding a trade to get away from me.”

  “Didn’t you watch the news conference?” He looked around the room and realized the gargantuan home office was like some British country house from the turn of the century. No electronics except for a couple of lamps. “I met with the media this morning and they’re going to be swarming you and your dad. Having me around isn’t going to help the team.”

  Geez, just looking around this room and seeing the legacy of the Blair family and the Atlanta Rebels reinforced his decision to leave. Rick had too much respect for the game and for the club to drag the organization through a personal scandal that would distract the players and management alike.

  “And that’s what it’s all about for you, isn’t it? Winning.” Delaney stepped toward one of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the massive gardens outside the house. Flowers bloomed despite the relentless heat of Georgia in midsummer.

  “No. It’s about protecting you and playing the game like it’s supposed to be played.”

  He couldn’t put his finger on what had changed between them since he left her office last night, but something had made her distant. Was she really that upset at the idea of him leaving? The thought that it would tear her up as much as it was going to tear him up wasn’t any great comfort.

  He joined her at the window. She leaned on one side of the casing while he rested a shoulder on the other. Daylight streamed between them, but the reality separating them seemed far more murky.

  “Forget about me for a minute. I don’t understand what you mean about how you play the game.” She shook her head. “How do you think it’s supposed to be played that’s any different than anyone else in the league?”

  “For my whole career I’ve wanted to be a part of a club that makes it to the playoffs as a team. No one-man bands. No big-ticket guys assembled just to win a series. But a group that picks each other up. A team that plays with as much heart as talent, you know? Like the game means something.”

  For a moment she nodded, as if she understood. But then she frowned.

  “So you want to leave Atlanta because this can’t be a team like that anymore. You think what happened last night will disrupt the team’s harmony?”

  “That’s a partial concern.” He couldn’t do that to the other players and he wouldn’t do that to the Blair family. “I think this group of guys could have a real shot at a championship season and I’m not going to mess it up for them. And team aside, I don’t want to put you in a position where you have to hide out from the media. I know how much you try to avoid the spotlight. And being with me will make that impossible.”

  It had sounded reasonable on the way over here in the car. Delaney had been put in an impossible position by the photographs, and no matter how much she said she would take care of the fallout, the media interest had to be much greater than she’d expected.

  Nodding, she squeezed her arms more tightly around herself.

  “I understand. But for what it’s worth, I’ve dreamed of being a part of a team that worked together, too. No one-man bands where one person made the decisions about what was best for the team without consulting the other.”

  He could have handled the rebuke if it hadn’t been for the thready emotion in her voice. Underlying that buttoned-up executive exterior remained the sweet, shy woman he’d made love to last night. And he’d hurt her without meaning to.

  Crap.

  Her old man had led Rick to believe Delaney would suffer because of the scandal, and he’d been quick to buy into it since he felt guilty for landing her half-naked on all the sports blogs. Rick had assured himself he was doing the best thing for all parties concerned by getting the hell out of Dodge.

  But what if that’s not what she wanted at all?

  Before he could pull his thoughts together, she planted the barest whisper of a kiss on his cheek.

  “Goodbye, Rick.”

  5

  HIS ARMS MUST HAVE SNAKED around her while she was saying goodbye, because when she attempted to walk away, his hands were on her waist, holding her in place.

  “You know, on the other hand, sometimes a good scandal really brings a team together.” He trotted out a completely unexpected response to her words of parting.

  And she might have laughed at the absurdity of the comment if her heart hadn’t been breaking. As it stood, she held herself very still so as not to sink into his strong arms all over again and tell him to never let her go.

  Although she might have shed her clothes last night, she didn’t plan to shed her dignity today, no matter how much of a life-changing event sleeping with the first baseman had turned out to be.

  “Well, in that case, I hope the Rebels can recover from this one and still go on to take the championship without you.” She didn’t say it to hurt him. She really wanted a win for the Rebels who had weathered plenty of personnel changes and “almost but not quite” seasons.

  Still, he didn’t release her waist.

  “I mean it,” he continued, his thumbs starting a slow glide on the waist of her short suit jacket. “Now that I think about it, sometimes those teams that pulled together the hardest did so because one of their players had a particularly tough year. They want to win for the catcher who lost his father in the middle of the season, or they want to win because they were the laughingstock of last place the season before.”

  “You’ve hardly experienced a death in the family.” Although the expiration of her love life after less than twenty-four hours felt like something she’d mourn for a very long time. “You just got caught with a very determined admirer.”

  “Is that what you are, Delaney?” He pulled her closer and her heart sped up even though she knew his nearness would only make it tougher to walk away in the end. “My admirer? Because I kind of thought we became a lot more last night.”

  Her heart gave one last surge of indignation at being tossed aside for his baseball career and her public image.

  “I did, too, until you slipped out of my office this morning without so much as a goodbye before deciding you wanted to leave town—and me—for good.”

  “Delaney, if I thought for a second that you wanted to weather t
he media storm with me—as a team—I would call your father in here right now and demand a new contract for next year.”

  The seriousness that she loved about him—loved?—yes, the seriousness she utterly loved about him was evident in his claim. He would really do that.

  “You wouldn’t just be staying because the Rebels have a shot at going all the way?” She had to know the truth. If it hurt, she could deal with it. But she hadn’t shed her shyness and her sarong last night to return to hedging her way through life today.

  Not when love was on the line.

  “I would stay because we have a shot at going all the way.” He squeezed her tighter. “Me and you.”

  Now her pulse spiked wildly, her happiness spilling over like shaken champagne in a victorious locker room.

  “Then why didn’t you tell me that as soon as you walked in here today?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, desperate for him. For a future she wouldn’t delay another second.

  “I thought you deserved better than to be pressured into a relationship just to make your father keep me on the team.” He kissed her forehead, the soft press of his lips echoing the understanding that flashed across her mind.

  “You hoped I would choose you because I wanted you and not because I was backed into a corner.” It was noble and selfless, and just exactly the kind of thing the man she loved would do. “While that’s really honorable of you, Rick Warren, if you ever scare me into thinking you’re leaving again, I’ll trade you to the Alaskan team myself.”

  He winced.

  “You realize there’s no major league club up there, don’t you?

  “You can be the first player contracted,” she assured him, wondering if it was possible for a woman to glow from the inside out. She just might be the first case ever.

  “Well, that’s not going to happen, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

  “Does my father know about this plan of yours?” She’d ship her dad off to Alaska, for that matter, if he had attempted to meddle in her love life ever again.

  “No.” Rick backed her into the cherry wainscoting beside the window, out of sight of the gardeners at work on the flowers. “Although he didn’t seem one bit surprised that we spent the night together. I think he knew we’ve been eyeing each other for a while. I do believe he sees more than he would admit.”

  She shook her head. “He let me think you might have slept with me to secure a ticket off the team.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe he wanted to see if you were willing to believe the worst of me. But I’m pretty sure that by the time all the smoke blew over today, he was hoping there’d be a proposal in the works.”

  She felt the heat crawl up her cheeks. “He is ridiculously old-fashioned.”

  “Are you kidding? I think that’s great. And since I’ve been watching your every move for the last year and a half, I feel like I know you very well already.” Rick reached into his shirt and withdrew a clunky gold band with a tiny diamond in the middle and lots of engraving. “Enough to think a proposal isn’t a bad idea.”

  “Rick!” She wondered if a more sophisticated woman would tell him not to be silly, and that of course she wasn’t expecting marriage after a single night together. But the look in his eyes told her this was no joke. “I couldn’t possibly—”

  “How about we call it a pre-engagement ring and let the media make of it what they will?” A rare grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “You and I can sort it all out at our leisure, but in the meantime, I would be honored if you’d wear my college national championship ring from the year we captured the division I title. I figure it’s a good place holder until I can find a ring more—”

  “You really mean it?” She was shaking like a leaf as he held an irreplaceable piece of jewelry close to her hand like an offering.

  “I’m crazy about you, Delaney. I love you and I would like you to think about a future with me.”

  Maybe her jaw dropped. Or maybe it was the tears that were rolling down her cheeks all of the sudden, but something must have tipped him off that she was completely overwhelmed because he cupped her cheek with infinite tenderness.

  “I know this might seem sudden to you, but it’s been a long time coming for me. And a wise woman I know taught me life is too short to wait for happiness to find us.”

  “Oh, Rick!” She clutched his hand, hardly daring to believe her dreams could come true simply by daring to act on them. “I’ve loved you since your very first line drive to right field that brought in—”

  “Dwight Wrigley for the win against Florida.” He grinned. “And I’ve loved you since the first meet and greet after spring training when you took me on a tour of the trophy room without ever once making eye contact.”

  Laughter burst through the emotions lodged at the base of her throat. “I’m no good at flirting.”

  His grin turned wolfish. “You sure got my attention when you were ready.”

  Warmth tingled through her.

  “I would be so honored to spend my future with you, Rick Warren.” She waggled her fingers at the diamond in his hand. “And I’m proud to wear your ring.”

  As he slid the piece onto her finger, he bent to brush a kiss along her lips.

  Without question, Delaney knew they were sealing a bargain to last a lifetime.

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  “SO HOW DO YOU LIKE the taste of humble pie, big guy?”

  Ozzie, the new lead disc jockey on Big Apple Sports Radio grinned as the fax came across the news wire listing the year’s Gold Glove winners.

  His morning-show partner had gotten demoted from the drive-time show to a late-night slot after ticking off a few too many of the game’s fans with inaccurate information and all-around lazy commentary. The program coordinator had given the top spot to Oz, citing his vast baseball knowledge and appeal to listeners.

  “He’s not the only one shoveling it down,” Scott, Oz’s new color man, appeared over his shoulder to check out the Gold Glove winners on the list. The kid was sharp and outspoken, but he never took the low road. “If you’d asked me last summer, I probably would have predicted these guys going down in flames.”

  “Baseball players are young,” Ozzie remarked, tearing off the printout in preparation for the 6:00 a.m. show. “And they live every second in the spotlight. You think they’re the only guys who make an occasional misstep? But no one predicts we’re going down in flames when we mess up.”

  Oz had never liked the way public figures ended up as punching bags so often, and he hoped his show would be different.

  “Brian Marshall went down in flames,” Scott observed, picking up the coffeepot for his morning java.

  “Watch your step, kid,” Oz threatened without any heat. He wasn’t sorry to see the loudmouth off the a.m. airwaves, but he kept that opinion to himself. “All I’m saying is that these guys deserve a break. They play more games than any other professional athlete and they work in a highly competitive field.”

  “Some work harder than others,” Scott observed, pointing to the mug shots of the players taking home fielding honors this season. Virtually every player Brian Marshall had pegged as a thug had proved instrumental for his team this season and every last damn one of them had copped the trophy for his respective position.

  “It was so damn cool to see Rick Warren lead a team to the World Series.” Chalk one up for the old dudes. It had taken Warren a decade, but he’d proven that you didn’t have to be a showboat to bring your team to the playoffs.

  “Plus, he married Blair’s daughter. You know they’ll tap him for a coaching slot in another season or two.” Scott shook his head, as if to suggest some guys had all the luck.

  Oz knew better. The guy had served his time in the trenches. Baseball was fortunate to have him around as a counterpoint to the young studs that focused solely on their batting average. The rookies could learn a thing or two about the game from a guy like Warren.

  “Y
ou know,” Scott continued, glopping cream cheese on his bagel and coating half the printout with what he splattered around. “Now that I think on it, all these guys took up with women this year.”

  Ozzie thought back to the news bits that had come in over the last few months. “That’s right. Montero is still courting the singer.”

  “I’m in love with Jamie McRae, man,” Scott declared. “Let’s invite Montero on the show and ask him to bring her along. She can sing that baseball song of hers.”

  “What are we, Entertainment Tonight?” Ozzie swiped off the cream cheese. “We’re getting back to serious baseball around here, remember?”

  Although Jamie McRae was the bomb.

  “Hey, I’ve got it.” Scott snapped his fingers. “We invite Javier Velasquez and Brody Davis on the same show and see if they go at it again.”

  “Not interested. Besides, it’s old news. Those two have been buds since, like, a week after their brawl.” Oz had read a feature piece on them a few weeks ago. Apparently their new girlfriends had become fast friends while comparing notes during the playoff games.

  “Fine.” Scott ripped a paper towel off the roll and swiped the rest of the cream cheese away. “So you’re saying we just talk about the news. No theatrics.”

  “Maybe just this once.” Oz clapped his new commentator on the shoulder then made his way toward his seat at the microphone. “You know as well as I do, there’ll be a whole new batch of hotheads and heartbreakers next spring to get everyone all fired up again.”

  “Right.” Scott tromped behind him, trailing news printouts and crumbs. “Until then, thank God for football season, right, boss?”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3772-2

  SLIDING INTO HOME

  Copyright © 2009 by Joanne Rock.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.