by Addison Fox
But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d played Russian roulette with her memories.
And had the singularly unpleasant sensation of eating a mouthful of lead.
Chapter Nine
Nick considered himself a man of stamina and sharp focus. He’d learned the skills early and channeled them into professional sports. When football had given way to the rest of his life, he’d been amazed to find the same set of skills served him just as well in learning to run a business and manage his finances.
Fender called it “fucking adulthood” with a wry smile and deep laugh. Nick just assumed it was life.
But nothing—not two-a-day practices in the dead of summer or signing off on his first business loan—had anything on Emma. The woman made a whirling dervish look slow.
Since he’d arrived at the Unity that morning, they’d managed a conference call, did a quick check of the lines, did several readouts on the developing wort, and then a full briefing on their sales calls for the day. That took all of an hour, and they’d been on the move ever since.
He’d made an idle suggestion to stop for lunch around one and had gotten the fish-eye for his trouble, along with an admonishment that they’d be late for their next meeting.
So here they were.
The minor-league ballpark recently erected about six subway stops from Park Heights rose up before them. He’d been here several times; the easy trip and old-fashioned ballpark made watching Brooklyn’s newest Double-A team, the Brooklyn Kings, a fun way for him and his brothers to end a day. It was closer than heading to Coney for a Cyclones game, and it was fun to see some of the local talent earn their stripes.
“They already have the pale ale on tap. What’s the point of coming here?”
“Seth’s concerned that they want to cancel the contract after this year. We need to convince the stadium manager to keep us in her lineup.”
Nick didn’t miss the us, but pushed on. “I thought stadium pours were generally negotiated for several years at a time. The stadium’s only two years old. Why’s the contract up so soon?”
“Because my father refused to listen to good sense when Seth brought him an opportunity for a ten-year lockup. Which is why we’re here, proverbial hats in hand, trying to convince the powers that be to stay with us.”
Nick opened the doors to the corporate offices a split second before her, extending a hand to wave her through. The outfit she wore looked like something minted around 1952, but the calves peeking beneath the skirt were sexy as hell. He gave himself an extra moment of pure male appreciation before following her.
The office was small, the space simple. Historic images of Brooklyn baseball lined the walls, from the Bridegrooms of the late 1880s to the Dodgers of the mid ’50s.
He might have spent the majority of his life obsessed with football, but baseball came in a close second. Add in Landon’s computerlike skill in quoting nearly every stat there was, and he could probably account for years of his life spent talking about, playing, or watching baseball.
“Is that a tear in your eye?”
Her tongue was firmly planted in her cheek, but Nick didn’t miss the curiosity that tinged the question. “I’m an all-American guy. And I do love my baseball.”
“You seem excited to be here.”
“Aren’t you?”
She shrugged before glancing around. “I guess. It’s one more office in a world full of them.”
“It’s a baseball stadium.”
“Yes. A nice new one, at that.”
“And Unity beer is poured for the baseball games played here. It doesn’t get more all-American than that.”
“Okay.”
“Just okay?” Nick fought the urge to goggle and lost. “You cannot be serious.”
“Is this something else about sports, like ‘ass magic,’ I need to understand?”
“Yes. No.” Nick stopped when he saw the smile hovering around her lips. Before he could call her on it, a woman called into the lobby for them.
Nick followed Emma towards a set of double glass doors. He knew this was a big meeting, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to mess with her a bit. Tugging on the back of her prim, proper, business-suit jacket, Nick slowed her progress enough to lean forward and whisper in her ear.
“Join me in my office one more time and I can show you just how magical that desk is.”
Emma fought the urge to strip off her suit jacket and fan herself. Damn the man—even when she thought she had the upper hand, he managed to find a way to unseat her.
Unsettle her.
And bring all that crazy, arousing need straight back to the surface, even after she’d worked so hard to hold him off.
She’d kept a respectful distance. She’d dug out the ugliest, most prim business suit she could find from the back of her closet. And for her coup de grace, she’d forced him to go without food.
The distance he would have expected, since their prior evening had ended awkwardly. And the outfit still showcased her legs, which even she knew deserved some credit. But the lack of food?
The man was a freaking machine.
She was ready to chew through her sleeve, and he was chatting up Scarlett Rodgers like she was the best thing since sliced bread.
And Scarlett was lapping it up, every freaking crumb.
The woman was attractive, and she had an excellent reputation since joining the Kings for their inaugural season. She was sharp, and she knew how to run the ballpark, from the chalk lines on the diamond to keeping the very last seat in the very last row spotlessly clean. Seth had prepared Emma for a fight.
Yet here they were, laughing and talking about the season like they had all the time in the world. Which they sort of did, since she’d forced Nick to skip lunch.
Tactical error, no question about it.
“I’ve been to the End Zone. You run a fine place. I am curious why you’re out on a sales call for the Unity?” Emma didn’t miss Scarlett’s pointed gaze as it drifted between herself and Nick. “Is this a new tactic? Local celebs are good for closing the deal.”
Emma knew it for what it was—a negotiation tactic designed to wear down one’s opponent—so she pasted on a smile and leaned right on in. “Nick’s evaluating the Unity as a business investment. My father and I are seriously interested in opportunities for expansion, especially where I’m looking to take the business for the next generation.”
If Scarlett was surprised by the news she kept it to herself, but did lean in as well. “Can I take this to mean you will be in business another decade?”
“Did someone suggest otherwise?” Nick’s voice was deadly calm, the jovial, easygoing smile from before nowhere in evidence.
“It’s hardly a secret.” Scarlett shrugged and sat back. “Seth did a good job tap dancing around the reasons for initially wanting a two-season contract, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. Your father’s not as visible around the community as he once was.”
Every bit of common sense she possessed told her to keep her mouth shut. But it was the instincts she’d begun to listen to of late that had Emma leaning in even closer, her palms on the edge of the desk.
“My father’s lack of interest in the business these past few years has been unfortunate. His grief over my mother’s passing has clouded his judgment, and rather than bring in help when he needed it, he’s made some poor decisions. I’m prepared to fix that.”
Emma’s instincts were rewarded as Scarlett laid down her pen and folded her hands. “How?”
Thirty minutes later Emma practically skipped as she followed Nick and Scarlett down several stairwells to the ball field. Nick had jumped at the offer of a tour, and Emma wasn’t immune to the opportunity to see the field from another dimension.
The scent of freshly mowed grass wafted toward her as they walked along the edge of the dugout. Nick had kept up a steady stream of questions, but Emma let them buzz around her mind like lazy bees as she filtered through the day.
Meetings. Calls
. Deals.
Nick had joined her for all of them, adding comments and questions where he had them, but otherwise allowing her to manage the work. The man was an asset, and he’d already given her several leads around town for Seth’s team to pursue in the coming weeks.
He’d also given her space, allowing her to respond to Scarlett’s questions without hogging the discussion. Cole had struggled with that. Even something as simple as a dinner party with friends had turned into a battle of who could tell a story faster than the other. Like anyone cared that much about their dumb vacation stories or a new restaurant they’d visited.
A grounds crew tromped toward the field, and she stopped to let them pass. Scarlett excused herself to talk with one of the men, and Nick continued on toward the outfield. The shift in dynamics was enough to pull her from her thoughts, only to gin up an even bigger question.
Why was she comparing Cole to Nick?
Cole had been her husband. Nick was a man she was at odds with. No amount of attraction was going to change that. Nor were things going to magically work out.
A hard breath caught in her throat and Emma forced it back. If things working out were increasingly taking up room in her mind, she needed to nip that one.
Hard.
There was no happy ending with Nick Kelley. There was no happy ending, period, but it sure as hell wasn’t with the god of Park Heights.
And oh, what a magnificent specimen he was. Her body still quivered like an arrow slammed into a bull’s-eye as their heated moments from the night before rushed back to the forefront of her thoughts. What would it be like to sleep with a man like that? To fall into his arms, their naked skin pressed together? Those strong hands pulling sensation after sensation from her with little effort?
“Emma?”
Scarlett’s voice penetrated the feverish thoughts. Oh God, she’d been caught daydreaming about Nick. “Yes?”
“I appreciate the changes you outlined earlier. I’m not going to regret the partnership we’ve signed?”
“Of course not.”
“I’m glad you’re on board with the business. It was a shame to think it might not continue.”
Although Scarlett had a solid streak of hard-ass, Emma couldn’t quite write her off as cold. Yet this was the second time the woman had prodded her about trouble at the Unity. Testing her instincts once more, she pressed. “Did Seth say that?”
“Not at all. He was quite diplomatic.”
“So why the concern about my business?”
“Brooklyn’s smaller than it looks. And I’ve made it my mission to get to know the local businesses that make sense as partners for our ball club. Your company’s on a rather short list.”
“You signed a contract with us.”
“I did, but when I offered a marketing partnership to Seth at a deeply discounted rate, he politely declined, insisting he was only interested in negotiating the beverage rights.”
“What sort of marketing partnership?”
“Signage, program advertisements, and a suite for your use at half our home games.”
Emma held back the need to let her jaw drop—barely—and focused on the question beneath the question. “And Seth declined?”
Or her father did. Unwilling to dredge up the drama that was her personal and professional life, Emma focused instead on the opportunity. “Is the offer still on the table? I’d like to reevaluate the marketing package.”
“Perhaps.” Scarlett’s attention drifted to the outer edge of the diamond, where Nick was speaking to one of the groundskeepers. For the briefest moment Emma had a sense she’d say something else and stayed silent.
“Why don’t you and Nick plan on being my guests on Thursday night? I’ve got the Owner’s Suite for the evening and would like to have you. You can see for yourself if you think it’s a good opportunity. Feel free to invite others.”
She nearly declined—the idea of spending even more time with Nick a mixed bag—but appreciated the olive branch even more. “That sounds like fun.”
Scarlett glanced toward Nick once more before turning back to Emma. “Look. I know it’s none of my concern, but I know what it’s like to fight a battle with your family. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re on board. The Unity’s a gem for the borough, and it would be a shame to see it go away.”
“Come to Papa.” Nick stared at his eggplant parm sandwich like the starving man he was and leaned in for a huge bite. As he chewed, he eyed Emma across the table. She’d been quiet since they left the ballpark, her focus seemingly scattered as she’d checked her phone and ordered her own sandwich with a distracted air. After the rush of activity that had barreled them through the morning, straight on through lunch, it was a little unsettling.
“Scarlett’s a ballbuster.”
Emma glanced up from her meatball sub. “She’s tough. I liked her.”
“I did, too.” Nick took another bite of his sandwich as an idea sparked. “She’s got a tough job.”
“Managing a ballpark?”
“Working in a man’s world. Professional sports are notoriously a man’s domain.”
“You think a woman doesn’t belong there?”
“Hardly. But a woman does stick out. I’d imagine she has to work twice as hard for respect at the ball club. I saw it in the few women who worked in positions in professional football. There was always this sense they were trying to prove themselves.”
“Were they?”
He shrugged. “Isn’t everyone? Anyone with a lick of ambition is always trying to get ahead.”
“Or get a shot.”
“And if you don’t get one?” It wasn’t a particularly cheerful question, yet as he probed, he wasn’t sure if he was asking Emma or himself.
“Are you scenario planning for when you get the Unity?”
“It’s just a question.”
“Is it?”
Nick wasn’t sure why he’d started down this path, but suddenly it was important to him to get underneath their conversation with Scarlett. The woman’s comments on the last negotiation had made it clear Peter Vandenburg had maneuvered things behind the scenes. More details he hadn’t shared with Emma. “Forget the future for a minute. Isn’t the brewery similar to the ballpark? I can’t imagine the Unity is a bastion of female partnership and camaraderie.”
“My situation’s a bit different. Everyone knows me.”
“And still they’re not jumping to get on your side now that your dad’s anxious to sell.”
That was when he saw it. That same stubborn spark that had set her jaw last night finally kicked in. “What are you getting at?”
“I’m curious is all.” Nick took the bite of his sandwich, the move half hunger and half a deliberate way to bait her a bit more.
“About?”
“Why you’re not more pissed off at your father. And why you agreed to our arrangement in the first place. And most of all,” he sat back and wadded up his napkin, “why you’re content to toddle me around instead of telling me to fuck off.”
“I’m not—” Wide-eyed shock gave way to anger—bright, vivid anger that blazed through her, pushing her to her feet. “I’m not toddling you around. I’m trying to live up to my side of our deal.”
“You’re sure making it easy on me.”
Nick had no idea why he was baiting her the way he was, except for the fact that somewhere around the middle of the discussion with Scarlett—when Emma more than held her own—something pissed him off. He hadn’t set out to intentionally compare them, but once the thought rooted, he couldn’t shake it loose.
The two women had faced off, Scarlett, so bright and attractive—fierce even—clad head to toe in black, and then there was Emma, by contrast. She’d paired a dated suit with what he’d gleefully admit were a killer pair of heels, but the suit had nearly faded her out.
Until she’d settled into the negotiation. It was there he’d seen the same sparks she’d already shown him she was capable of. Yet when they’d
walked on the ball field the quiet mouse had returned.
She wore the lioness far better.
As if to prove his point, Emma practically quivered as she stood there, hovering over her chair. But confusion was layered in the flush. “You want me to make it hard on you?”
“I sure as shit don’t want you to roll over and play dead.”
“I’m not.”
“Looks like it from where I’m sitting.”
That delightful flush that provided some fucking contrast to that shit-all-ugly business suit flowed from her neck down her throat over the upper part of her chest. Nick’s gaze roamed over that pink expanse, fascinated by the secrets he knew lay a bit further south.
Were her breasts pink, too?
The heavy breaths that had fired her anger shifted under his perusal. He saw the moment anger flashed over, that gorgeous flush growing a shade rosier.
It was all he could do to sit there, watching as this weird, but decidedly powerful, attraction literally spun out between them. The strands might be invisible, but he could almost swear he saw them gleaming a vivid gold in the sunlight if he tipped his head just so.
He leaned forward, his fingers reaching for hers to pull her back into her seat when a heavy shout stayed his hand, suspended in midair.
“Nick! What a pleasant surprise.”
Chapter Ten
A loud, brittle voice crackled in her ear, as jarring as being pulled from a deep sleep. Emma fought to surface, the adrenaline rush of anger and arousal still rooting her in place. Hadn’t they been fighting?
So why did she suddenly feel hot and flushed and decidedly friendly toward Nick Kelley?
Nick stood, smoothly stepping toward the owner of the voice, and the move was enough to finally shift her from her position. As she moved to the side, she saw him bend nearly in half to press a kiss to a thin, papery cheek before moving on to his mother.
Oh God, it was his mother.
