by Debra Elise
He was determined to avoid the state of matrimony at all cost. If he ever found a woman who he wanted to spend more than a few nights with, he thought they’d just live in sin. That way, when things went south, as they typically did in Luke’s world where women were concerned, you could walk away with an “it’s been real” and move on to the next.
He’d adopted the “love ’em and leave ’em” game plan in college. Word spread quickly among the ball girls waiting for him after a game, so they knew the score going in. Save the orange blossoms for the accountant next door, and bring on the leather minis.
And he’d felt that way until recently. Until yesterday when he asked Lara to go for a ride and she turned him down—nicely. At least she was honest. It just bruised his ego to know she’d rather go out on a date with Mr. Golf Shirt than go for a walk on the wild side with him.
He’d gone out last night for the first time in months, but none of the women in the club had appealed. The old Luke would have picked the one wearing the shortest skirt and called it a night. Maybe he’d try again tonight and . . . ah, hell, who was he kidding. He couldn’t get Lara out of his head. Her sunny blond hair and green eyes were striking, sure, but it was her sultry laugh that kicked his pulse into high gear.
Pushing Lara’s image out of his head, he switched machines and began working out a different muscle group when a blur of movement caught his eye. The Bluetooth speaker went from sitting on a bench next to the lockers to flying through the air. He whipped his head around just in time to see it smash into the mirrored wall where it landed, now blasting out how life’s not easy.
The Outlaws’ owner, Thomas Scott, T.S. to his family and players, strode across the room and planted his six-three frame in front of the leg press as Luke sat in stunned silence. Damn.
T.S. was one of the few men in this world who could make Luke think twice about crossing him. If this were a cartoon, steam would be spilling out of T.S.’s ears. He was one pissed owner and Luke sat squarely in his crosshairs. There was no escape without physically moving the man who ruled his team with a passion not matched in the league.
Luke grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face and neck. “Hey, boss. You upset with the quality of the sound system?” Humor, Luke thought, was always good in these situations. Usually.
But not today.
“You can keep living your life like nothing else matters except yourself, but when you put the team in jeopardy you can guarantee I’m going to kick your ass.”
Luke’s hand froze. Shit. He’d found out about the bike. It had to be that because he sure as hell hadn’t done anything else that would have set him off.
“Let me guess. You know about my new ride?” Luke stood up from the bench, crossed his arms, planted his feet wide, and watched as T.S. threw a tantrum.
“Fuck, Garibaldi. I thought you were smarter. You really need to get ahold of whatever it is that makes you think the rules are not meant for you.” T.S. paced the length of the room, twice, before he came back to stand in front of Luke.
Luke dropped his arms, clenched his fists, and prepared to defend himself if necessary.
“You are the luckiest son of a bitch I know. I received a picture in my private e-mail showing someone with a similar build riding a shiny death trap. And the rider? Well, he had a tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve.”
“Maybe it was my twin?”
“You should be so lucky.” T.S. took a deep breath.
He locked eyes with Luke, daring him to look away.
Luke didn’t so much as flinch from the death stare.
T.S. shook his head and grunted. “I was able to convince the sender that there was no way he could prove it was you on the bike and if he printed the story we would sue. As of twenty minutes ago the legal department assured me there is no story.”
Luke’s eyes dried out, but he didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe, he didn’t move an inch. He prayed.
“You’re on notice, Luke. If I so much as catch a whiff of leather when I get within five feet of you, you’re benched. You need to take a long look at yourself and where you want to be after this season. I could trade you tomorrow if given enough reason. But, I won’t. Not this time. And that’s only out of respect for Maverick. If you were anyone else, played any less than you do, your career would be over.”
“Isn’t that a little extreme T.S.—”
“Extreme? You want extreme. How about we start Chaz in the game tomorrow and you miss your first game in three years? That extreme enough for you?”
“Shit,” Luke cursed under his breath. “Look, I don’t need this crap, T.S. I didn’t take drugs, show up drunk to a game, or sleep with your girlfriend. Why the drama?”
“You just don’t get it, do you, Garibaldi?”
“I guess not. Care to enlighten me?”
“You’re the goddamn glue that is holding this team together. Through everything that happened with Maverick losing his brother last year, to the move to Idaho, to the tone in the locker room. You are the emotional leader of this team, and if you want to screw all that up because you’d rather ride your toy than play by the league’s rules, tell me now.”
Luke didn’t know what to say. He respected T.S. too much to blow him off. If the guy had been anyone else, he’d be rubbing a sore jaw by now. He ran both hands through his hair and sighed. At the moment the only thing that came to mind was that he was long overdue for a haircut.
T.S. wasn’t through with him. “Listen, I don’t want to be the one scraping you up off the pages of some rag and scrambling to find a new catcher. Chaz doesn’t have the chops to handle the position long term. If it was up to me, he’d already be gone. But I made a promise since I’m such a nice guy. The former owner asked me when I bought the team to keep the guy on at least through this season and I agreed.”
“Shit.”
“Is that all you can say, Luke? I was hoping for a little more from you. At the very least an ‘I screwed up.’ Just answer me one thing. Are you committed to this team? Because if you’ve had a change of heart since the season began, I need to know.”
Luke couldn’t believe his loyalty was being questioned. Of all the players on this team, Luke and Maverick were more dedicated than anyone else to making this a winning franchise. To prove to the naysayers that moving a losing team to a smaller market wasn’t the fool’s dream everyone predicted it would become.
“T.S., I have never put anything else in my life before baseball or the Outlaws. Riding the bike is an outlet, nothing more. I can live without it. Being a catcher in the USBL is all I’ve ever wanted. You’re right. I made a poor choice. It was like a game for me. See if I could pull it off without someone finding out.”
“Someone did.”
“Yeah. Someone did. And I’ll take the second chance to do better. As much as I’ll miss riding, I’ll prove to you that I can toe the line for the good of the team.” Luke rubbed his neck. He never backed down from anything or anyone, but there was a first time for everything.
“This is your only chance, Luke. You don’t get three strikes.” T.S.’s face held no warmth or relief that Luke was giving in to his demands. He continued to stare him down and left before Luke could give him an honest apology.
He needed to man up. Fuck, he was in his thirties, not some rookie who believed the end of his career was decades away. He strode toward the bathroom for a quick shower, then left to meet Maverick.
He needed a night with his buddy to blow off some steam, and hitting O’Malley’s, the most popular sports bar in Pineville, which they were thinking of buying, hopefully would help get his mind off the one woman he couldn’t stop thinking about, the sexy maid of honor he should stay away from. But the more he saw her, the less he was willing to do that.
CHAPTER 4
Lara sat between Kelsey and Noel in a rock-hard folding seat in the brand-new Idaho Outlaws Stadium, and pretended she was enjoying herself instead of wanting to be anywhere than at a baseball game.
Inwardly she was jumping for joy at sitting so close to the field, and in her direct line of vision, if she angled her body slightly left, was Luke.
She had to admit, it was a pretty spectacular stadium. In North Idaho all you had to do was wait twenty minutes and the weather would change, so to accommodate the wet springs, team owner Thomas Scott had opted for a stadium with a retractable roof. Today it was open and offered a sweeping view of the surrounding ponderosa pine–filled hills and the shimmering surface of nearby Lake Coeur d’Alene.
If she wasn’t here, she’d be home feeling sorry for herself, eating a half gallon of caramel-swirl Moose Tracks ice cream. The ice cream almost won out. But when Kelsey asked you to do something, you did it. Now that she was all happy and sexually satisfied by the Outlaws’ star pitcher, Kelsey had made it her mission to hook up her girlfriends with some players too.
As a physical therapist, Lara had had her fill of arrogant jocks. No matter how hot and bothered Luke made her feel when they were within twenty feet of each other, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall for his good looks, wide shoulders, and fine ass.
What she needed in her life was someone more intellectual and down to earth. A steady guy who wanted one woman, not a stable full. Yup, someone boring sounded perfect to Lara. She just needed to convince Kelsey that’s what she wanted so she’d stop her constant campaigning of Luke’s virtues. As fine as they were, he was not long-term potential.
She thought she’d done a good job of pretending she was having fun, but her always-up-for-a-good-time image was currently on mute, and Kelsey knew something was up. But thankfully she stopped giving her the mother hen routine and bought them all a round of cold beers and nachos before the game got started.
Lord, she hated baseball. Okay, maybe hated was too strong a word. More like she was indifferent. It just seemed like a hurry-up-and-wait kinda game where patience often ruled. And patience was not something she had a lot of. Plus, she wasn’t a big fan of athletes with overinflated egos and bank accounts. And so far, all of the players she had met had both. Even the one she couldn’t stop thinking about.
“Lara, stand up. C’mon, show some team spirit.” Kelsey tugged on her arm.
Both Kelsey and Noel had stood up to cheer in the middle of her daydream and forced her attention onto the infield where Lara noticed a few of the players jogging past the foul line to their positions. Oh yes, most of this team was blessed with killer bods, and those form-fitting baseball pants definitely made her smile. She did her best to not look toward home plate.
But try as she might, her gaze wandered over to the real reason she didn’t want to be here today, and he was staring right back at her. Number thirty-four. Dressed in modern-day gladiator attire, Luke’s equipment didn’t hide but accentuated his hard muscles. Thick, sculpted thighs from hours spent in the gym and squatting behind home plate made her mouth water.
Where other players’ uniforms were loose through the shoulders and arms, his were tight, appearing painted on. Dammit, she couldn’t look away. Luke knew she was looking and flashed her a smile and a wink before he pulled down his mask. She didn’t consider herself superficial when it came to a man’s physique, because she always went for the brainy type. But his shoulders and biceps did something to her . . . something best kept to herself. She promised herself that would be the last time she looked toward home plate the entire game. Really, Lara? Don’t let him win.
She took another quick peek his way. He was now in position as the pitcher warmed up. Every time Luke caught the ball, he bounced up to throw it back and she watched, mesmerized, as his muscles bunched and flexed. Hmm . . . Looking wasn’t off-limits, right?
She happened to glance toward home plate when Luke was standing in the batter’s circle waiting his turn at bat. Yes, this view was indeed worth the sore butt she was sure to have tomorrow. By the time she tore her gaze from his backside, she found herself staring into a set of gray laughing eyes. He sent her a wink and dropped his extra bat and turned to strut toward the batter’s box.
There was no other term. The man strutted. And damn, he did it well.
Kelsey broke the spell. “Hey, Lara. I meant to give you the name and number of that realtor I mentioned. If you’re serious about putting your house on the market, that is.”
Lara kept her eyes on Luke and sighed. Yeah. She was serious. The home needed a remodel badly, but she knew the location would bring a good price. Hopefully enough to pad her savings account and maybe pay off the medical bills she still carried from her grandparents’ back-to-back illnesses before they passed.
“I am. I’ll call her tomorrow. Who knows, maybe putting the house up for sale now will be good karma.”
Noel nudged her and gave her a squeeze. “I don’t want you to leave, but I understand wanting to go after your dreams. It’s why I struck out on my own and look at me now. My design business is growing and I’m thinking of hiring another employee to help out with the larger accounts. It’ll happen for you, Lara. I can feel it.”
Lara wiped away a lone tear. Noel’s words were sorely needed, but also reminded her of what she would be leaving behind should her dream job materialize. Friends you considered your family were rare and she was sitting between two women that would do anything for her, and she for them.
Change was coming. She could feel it. Question was, would she be up for the challenge?
Luke’s bat had been on fire the last ten games. He was sitting at .423 for the season so far, but he’d yet to hit a homer in Outlaws Stadium. One of his goals for their inaugural season was to have at least one walk-off home run. Today he was going to amend that goal. He wanted to make sure he did it while Lara was watching him from the stands.
Damn, she looked like she wanted to eat him up. And it made it difficult to concentrate. But he would. Years of Little League, high school, and college ball had prepared him to keep his hormones in check when he knew a girl he wanted was watching him play.
He’d also mastered the ability to shut out the noise of the fans and the haters, but with Lara it was different. She was different. And he had this odd feeling creep up his spine and settle into his lower neck and park there that he wanted her to be proud of him. Crazy.
It shook him for a second but as he took his stance and waited for the first pitch, he recovered his lost concentration and focused on the Gators’ relief pitcher, Andrew Russell, sent in to shut down Luke’s hitting streak. The pitcher had racked up twenty saves so far, but Luke had two RBIs off him during their road trip to Tallahassee last month. This would be a cakewalk.
He raised his bat, relaxed his shoulders, and took the first pitch. Ball. Low and inside. The crowd cheered and Russell spit on the mound. Luke waited for the next pitch, fighting the urge to look away from the pitcher and over to Lara. Goose bumps erupted and he fantasized about what she might be thinking. Damn. The umpire called strike.
Luke cringed on the inside, but sent the pitcher a Cheshire grin. All part of the game. He took the pitch in stride and knew it would make Russell put the next one in Luke’s sweet spot.
“Whoosh.”
Swing. And a miss. What the fuck? He was off by inches. He swore he felt the wind of the ball. He stepped out of the box, held up his hand, and the ump called time. He stared at the dirt, his cleats, the outline of the plate. Anywhere but toward the dugout or the stands. Or her. Shit.
No way he was going to fall apart because he had a hard-on for a woman. Not just any woman, but judas priest, that stung. He was stronger, smarter than that. Had to be. Needed to be. And he would be.
Blocking out everything, he dug back into his spot and nodded at the cocky-assed pitcher. The only one he had to impress now was himself. Prove that he was in control of the moment.
The ball released from Russell’s fingers in slow motion. He had time for one deep breath before he crushed it. The crack of the bat signaled “home run” to the crowd as they rose to their feet in unison and cheered.
Luke flipped his b
at behind him, the home dugout emptied, and he ran the bases with an eye toward Lara as he rounded third. She and her friends were also on their feet. Seconds before he crossed home plate, gray eyes met green. Luke was swallowed by his teammates and half carried back to the dugout. Freezing sports drink was dumped over his head, and once back in the locker room he was shoved into the showers—uniform and all. He loved this game, loved the brotherhood.
He could cross “walk-off home run” from his list and move the sexy, green-eyed physical therapist up to the top of his goals. He’d give just about anything to know what was going through her head right about now. He planned on finding out tomorrow night at Mav and Kelsey’s engagement party.
CHAPTER 5
Lara started to dress for Kelsey’s engagement party and chewed a nail while standing in front of her closet. She couldn’t decide on the tea length chiffon or something a bit more . . . provocative. She’d spent the night tossing and turning thanks to a certain sexy catcher who’d starred in her dreams.
One minute she was watching him at the stadium, the next he was leaning over her driving her wild with his nimble hands. She woke sweaty and needy, and thought long and hard about Kelsey’s offer to set her up with Luke.
She was sure he was interested in her, but did she want to chance creating awkwardness with everyone if she and Luke hooked up but it didn’t work out?
She continued worrying about the issue as she picked up Kelsey early to help her set up for the party at Club Cortana. Maverick was at the stadium with the rest of the team and would get ready there before heading over.
Club Cortana had become the Outlaws’ unofficial hangout earlier in the year when the club moved to Pineville. Owned by a college friend, it was the right mix of dance club vibe on the lower floor and a restaurant decorated in a modern Tuscan twist on the top floor.
