League of Her Own

by Faith O'Shea

  “I’m beginning to.”

  He wanted to be the one to escort her out. If Carlos could remain friends with Izabella, why couldn’t he remain friends with Fifi?

  “Maybe we could do this again someday?”

  She turned her head and he could see a sad smile appear on her face.

  “That would be courting danger, don’t you think?”

  “Dancing doesn’t have to lead to…sex.”

  He said that as they arrived back at the house.

  Fifi put her hand on the door release. “Then I guess I’ll go right up to bed.”

  He cupped her neck with his hand, preventing her from escaping. “All right. It would be courting danger. Dancing does have to lead to sex…with you.”

  The kiss that he’d been anticipating all the way home ignited a fire that he wasn’t sure even orgasm would put out. When he lifted his mouth from hers, those gray eyes singed him further.

  He fumbled with the door, went around to extricate her from her seat and in a frenzy of feeling, he spread hot, liquid kisses all over her face, his hand finding her curves, his body screaming for release. His mouth never left hers until they stumbled into the mudroom, where Hoover did her best to break them apart.

  He groaned out, “Not now, girl.”

  Fifi pushed at his chest. “Let me take care of her.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  He needed to be touching her in some way, even if it was just holding her hand. As they stood on the deck, Hoover running around, chasing the wind, he slipped his arm around her waist and trailed kisses along her neck.

  As soon as the dog was run ragged, Rique carried Fifi to his room, stripped them both of their clothes, and spent the night making love to her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Rique was nestled against Fifi, perfectly content with the night’s passion. She was uninhibited in bed, and she’d driven him to the brink of insanity and back several times before the morning came. He wasn’t inclined to move, but the jarring ring of his cell, forced him to turn away and answer.

  He sat up with a jolt, took a breath and swiped.

  “Hello, Mr. Calipari.”

  “You don’t have to be so formal. It’s Mac, Enrique. Mr. Calipari is my father.”

  “Okay…Mac.”

  “Sorry to call so early but I’m hoping you can come out to my house this morning. I’m setting up meetings with some of the key players. I’d rather not use Farina’s office until it’s been cleared of his personal belongings, but I want to get started as quickly as I can. I also don’t want it to look like I’m swooping in before the dust settled but time is of the essence, as they say. Can you be here by eleven?”

  The voice was deep, the tone brusque. He was all business. Was it a good or bad sign? And what did it mean that he was a key player?

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mac gave him the address, and before hanging up, said, “See you then.”

  Fifi had rolled over, the sheet covering her body, her eyes half-lidded. If the call hadn’t shaken him, that look might have beckoned him back to her side.

  Groggily, she murmured, “You’ve been summoned?”

  He nodded. “He doesn’t seem to be wasting any time. I didn’t think he’d get to it quite this swiftly.”

  He thumbed a text and then put the phone down

  She didn’t ask but she had a question in her eyes.

  “Seb. I want to see if he’s got a meeting today.”

  They’d been texting back and forth since yesterday morning, recapping the news reports, worrying together over the future. He knew Seb would be more concerned about it now than he was. He’d hate to lose the two friends he’d made. They’d formed a tight triumvirate and he knew the chemistry would be out on the field with them.

  At the ping, Rique picked the phone back up and read the one word typed. Yes.

  The second ping with the words shit, fuck typed might have been humorous if he didn’t know what lay behind the sentiment.

  Fifi shifted to a sitting position, pulled the pillows up and rested against them. “What did he say? You look nervous.”

  “He got a call, which doesn’t bode well for me. Is Mac going to get rid of the both of us?”

  “Don’t worry just yet. Hear what he has to say. He might be bringing you guys in because you’re the more recent acquisitions. Neither of you has worked under Farina, so he’s got a blank slate to start with.”

  That was a possibility. Or maybe he was calling in the players whom he thought might be expendable. All cockiness had evaporated with that one swipe, and he wished he could go back, redo last year, save games, play his position the way it was supposed to be played. About to tell her his regrets, he glanced over, and stopped. If that had happened, he wouldn’t have been traded, and he wouldn’t be here, with her. A strange calm came over him and he sat down on the bed, took her hand, and said, “Come with me.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “Are you crazy? You can’t drag me along to that meeting.”

  He knew that but it didn’t erase the need to have her there with him.

  “Yes. Sorry. I’m not thinking clearly.”

  Without meaning to, he increased the pressure on her hand. Her wince relaxed his grip.

  “The meeting’s at his house. Do you know how far Lexington is?”

  “Half an hour, forty-five minutes. Being Sunday, you won’t hit much traffic.”

  He got up off the bed and went directly into the bathroom to relieve himself. When he returned, Fifi was just getting up. He had come to know every inch of her body, but it still amazed him that she was so lush and soft. It also aroused him. His morning erection had gone down with the call, followed by the pee, but it had come back with a vengeance. He needed to lay with her, fill her, empty himself of the nervous agitation that had ignited since he’d spoken to Mac.

  She was sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching for her pants, but before she could get them back on, he was there, fingering her naked shoulders, tickling the skin with featherlike strokes. She dropped her head back and moaned.

  “We can’t, Rique.”

  “Why not?”

  He sounded like a pouty kid who wasn’t going to get his way.

  “Hoover needs to go out and you’ve got to get ready.”

  “It’s not even eight o’clock. I have hours until I have to leave.”

  She maneuvered around him and this time was able to snag her pants and get them on before he stopped her. After pulling the shirt over her head, and hiding her assets, she said, “Why don’t you text Mattie. See if he’s one of those key players.”

  He watched as she scooted out of the room, heard Hoover greet her, and Fifi’s soft voice as she muttered words of love back.

  He dropped to the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He’d almost whispered similar words to her last night that would have proved problematic in the light of day. They were words better suited for a mate, than a friend. He had to admit she’d become more than that, but he didn’t know what to do with it.

  Maybe if she were more like her mother, cold and detached it would have been easier to separate lust from…caring. But she wasn’t. She’d been willing to make room in her life for his passion. Last night, while they were walking Hoover, something he rarely did, the cold had invigorated, the conversation had stimulated. She was a great listener and he was able to talk to her about everything. She offered valuable insights, not only about the game, but into who he was and what he could do if he put his mind to it.

  He scrubbed his face. His feelings about her were becoming complicated, something he didn’t need right now. He’d come up with a plan and he meant to see it through but… He looked up at the empty doorway. He didn’t like knowing what they had together would change once those plans were in play.

  He picked up his phone and texted Mattie like she’d suggested. It made him feel a sliver better when he heard his meeting was for eleven thirty. No way would they be trading the new third baseman. M
aybe Fifi was right and Mac wanted to talk to the newest members of the team before he reached out to the others. He wouldn’t know until he got there, so he’d put the worry aside.

  He showered and changed into a suit, wanting to impress his new boss. When he got down to the kitchen, Fifi was freshly dressed in her standard jeans and sweater, and there was a steaming cup of coffee ready and waiting.

  She smiled and all the lingering nervous tension evaporated.

  “Don’t you look nice. Do you think it’s necessary?’

  “It can’t hurt.”

  He blew on the hot liquid and carefully took a sip. And winced. “For someone who measures things for a living, I’d think you’d have this down.”

  “You’d think. I guess I just don’t care enough. I’m not all that fond of the taste anyway. I drink it for the caffeine.”

  He leaned back against the counter and asked. “Now what do I do for the next two hours?”

  “Pace?”

  “Not my style. How about we go for breakfast?”

  “Are you sure? There was a big article in the Globe this morning about the team, the new manager and some of the players, you being one of them. It might get you noticed.”

  He saw the paper lying on the table, sectioned off, and the sports page was front and center. Had she developed a fondness for the game? The team? Or was it plain old curiosity?

  “Thought you went for news that impacted your life.”

  “Today, this meets the criteria.”

  He had one arm across his chest, the other clutching the mug.

  “What did the article say?”

  She shrugged. “There are question marks, who’ll stay, who’ll go. Most of it had to do with Mac’s credentials but some had to do with team chemistry, the fresh faces, youth and a new energy. The prognosis is good for a winning season.”

  “I like the sound of that. I also like the sound of breakfast. I’m hungry.”

  His appetite had never been better. He was especially ravenous after a night tangled in the sheets with her. “Izabella says the townies leave you alone. It’s one of the reasons I want to relocate here.”

  “Then sure. Where do you want to go?”

  “There’s a place in Shawsheen that I’ve been to with Reid before. The food’s greasy but good.”

  “Let me get my coat.”

  He was able to pass the unwanted free time in animated conversation and as soon as he dropped her off, he headed south.

  The nervousness came back as soon as he pulled up to the gated house. He pushed the button to announce his arrival and waited for the iron-rod gates to open. When they had swung wide enough for him to drive through, he proceeded down a narrow, winding lane until he came to the secluded sprawling cape. There was another car there, and he pulled up beside it, shut off the engine, and sat, trying to calm his nerves. He straightened his tie before climbing out and approaching the double front door. The bong of the bell echoed both inside and out and it took less than a minute for a woman to open it. She was young, with shoulder-length brown hair and glasses. Almost as tall as he was, she was dressed in professional attire. He didn’t have to wonder long if this was Mac’s daughter.

  “Hi, Enrique. I’m Casey Calipari. Dad’s just finishing up with his earlier appointment. Please come in. You can have a seat in the family room while you wait.”

  He rubbed his palms along the legs of his pants and followed her to a comfortable room just beyond the foyer.

  She gave him a watered-down smile and said, “You seem nervous. Don’t be. He doesn’t spout fire. You’ll leave in the same condition as when you arrived.”

  That might be the case, but would he still be the shortstop for the Greenies when he did?

  He stuffed his hands in his pants and stood waiting for further instructions. She must have noticed his restlessness. “Why don’t you have a seat.”

  She’d pointed to one of the comfortable-looking couches and he surveyed the area before choosing one. She sat opposite. Was she the welcoming committee or the cheering section? She was definitely easy on the eyes but there was a lack of warmth there. They sat in silence for a moment, and to break it he said, “I’ve heard very good things about him. His stats in Pittsfield were impressive.”

  With obvious pride, she remarked, “He turned that team around in one year. He’s hoping he can take this team all the way.”

  He was curious now about this woman, the one who Seb had dated in high school. He liked getting to know people and she was no exception.

  “Do you work for him?”

  He hoped for Seb’s sake she didn’t.

  “In a way. I manage the sports facility he owns.”

  “That’s not the one—”

  She nodded. “We rent it out to the Greenies and Red Sox when they need it, so yes, it is the one you used this week.”

  “Were you there?”

  “In my office. I don’t usually make it a habit to watch the practices. I’d never get any work done.”

  He wondered if she’d made an exception with Seb there. Was she still enamored? When she tucked her hair behind her ear, he glimpsed the glint of a ring on her finger. He had his answer.

  He nodded at it and asked, “Have you set a date yet?”

  She glanced down, fingered it, and said somewhat carefully, “Not yet. Greg just proposed on my birthday.”

  He didn’t know when that was, so he didn’t know how recently it had taken place. Maybe with the engagement, Mac wouldn’t be as ornery toward Seb. He studied her expression and wasn’t sure there was as much pleasure in the rock of ring as one would think.

  Before he could ask any more personal questions, Mac came down the hall, Verducci walking alongside. The new manager was a large man, or maybe he just had a large presence. At six foot four, he carried his girth well. He was tanned and relaxed, and he took up all the space in the room.

  Rique rose as he approached and extended his hand. Mac took it with a firm grip. “It’s good to meet you, sir.”

  “Rique this is one of our catchers, Rafe Verducci. Rafe our shortstop, Enrique dos Santos.”

  With that pronouncement, Rique felt the tension in his shoulders loosen. Being introduced that way was a good omen, implied that he was staying. It seemed Rafe was, too, but teams didn’t usually carry three catchers throughout the season. One would have to go. Would it be Motts or Dorfman? If he was pressed to guess, he’d bet it would be Dorfman. Motts had been catching Reid since he’d gotten there, and the front office would probably want to keep their ace happy.

  Mac had walked Verdi to the door, turned back, and said, “You’re up next. Follow me.”

  Before doing as told, he glanced at Casey. “It was nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you again someday.”

  Mac slapped him on the back. “You’ll be seeing lots of Casey from here on in. She’s coming with us to Sanford. She’s my right hand.”

  Casey had dipped her head, becoming consumed with the carpet. It didn’t seem she was happy about that. Would she have to leave her fiancé behind? She glanced up, met his eyes, sadness shining there if he read her right, before she walked off in another direction. It appeared her work here was done.

  Now that some of the agitation was gone, Rique took the time to absorb his surroundings. The house was well-decorated, grand yet homey.

  “You have a beautiful home, sir.”

  “I told you it was Mac, and my wife is an interior decorator. I’ll pass along your compliment.”

  He guided him into an office, the desk an old one that must have been refurbished. It gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the three-panel window. The seats opposite were black leather, and when he sat, he felt it mold to his body. There were framed pictures of his wife and daughter scattered around the room. An oil painting of the two of them hung on the wall.

  “You have a beautiful family.”

  You’ve said the word beautiful twice now. Have you no other descriptive words in your vocabulary?

/>   He felt like an imbecile.

  Looking at the man who was standing close by, Rique couldn’t quite describe the smile as warm. More menacing… maybe intimidating.

  “My family’s the most important part of my life.”

  He’d heard that from Seb, but he wasn’t giving away anything his new friend had told him.

  “I agree. I’m very close to mine.”

  “Jackson’s brother-in-law, right?”

  “Yes. He’s married to my sister Izabella.”

  “I’ve met her. Lovely woman.”

  He was surprised when Mac sat beside him instead of using the desk as a barrier between them. He didn’t need it. He’d crossed his arms over his broad chest. It had the same effect. In a steady, low-pitched voice he asked, “So, how you settling in?”

  Clearing his throat, Rique said in response, “Very well. I’m staying with Reid and Izabella. Although they’re still on vacation, they gave me full use of their home.” He added in more somber tones, “They’re coming back early due to Farina’s death.”

  Mac’s expression turned somber. “For the wake and funeral. Most of the veteran players have had to cut their family time short due to the circumstance. It’s a great loss to the organization and to the world of baseball.”

  Was that the company line or did Mac really believe that? Farina wasn’t known for his mild-mannered temperament. Didn’t matter to him, so he went along.

  “It is.”

  Mac leaned back and studied him before admitting, “Reid is one of the people DeLorenzo spoke to before making the trade for you. He’s on your side in this, although Farina was on the fence. I’m not sure where I stand, but when I spoke to Leo about your practice sessions, he told me you’ve been busting your ass.”

  Thanks, Leo, wherever you are.

  In a steady, low-pitched voice, he said, “I want this…Mac. I’ll do whatever I have to to make it work.”

  Mac cleared his throat, thumbed his ear, before making eye contact.

  “We need someone strong at shortstop if we’re going to go all the way. Most of the men I’ve played with at that position were leaders. They have to be. They’re the backbone of the team. Do you have that in you?”