For a Little While (One Strike Away Book 1)

by Mary J. Williams

  Ruby ran on like an over-caffeinated wind-up toy. Fascinated, Spencer considered stopping her. But he found himself wondering how many words she could rattle off without taking a breath.

  "Ruby!" a sharp voice called out, silencing Ruby mid-word. "By now, I shouldn't have to remind you. We don't accost people as they enter the building. Or at any other time."

  Looking properly chastised, Ruby nodded. "But, Mrs. Birch. This is Spencer Kraig."

  Smartly dressed in a forest-green skirt, cream-colored silk blouse, and sensible yet stylish flats, the older woman sighed, shaking her French twist-coifed head.

  "I'm well aware, Ruby. Finish typing those letters."."

  With a sigh, Ruby did as she was told.

  "Hello, Sheila."

  "It's good to see you, Spencer." Sheila smiled, giving Spencer's hand a friendly squeeze. "I'm sorry about Ruby. She's new. And young. And enthusiastic."

  "Time will take care of the new and young part," Spencer laughed.

  "And temper the enthusiasm."

  Sheila Birch had worked for the Cyclones longer than Spencer had been alive. Office manager, she ran a tight ship. But at heart, she was a diehard baseball fan and the reason she didn't fire Ruby for a little thing like gushing over a superstar athlete. She remembered what it felt like to see her heroes up close for the first time.

  Besides, the girl was a good worker. Not an easy quality to find.

  "Since when has your enthusiasm been tempered? You cheer as loudly as anybody when the Cyclones win."

  "And die a little when they lose. However, those emotions belong at the ballpark. Not the office." Sheila raised her voice, making certain her words reached the front desk and an eavesdropping Ruby.

  Over Sheila's head, Spencer sent Ruby a wink. Color flooded the young woman's face as she reached to answer the phone. Flustered, she almost dropped the receiver.

  "Was that necessary?" Sheila asked, witness to the effect Spencer had on her receptionist. "Your winks have the power to stop traffic."

  Spencer raised an eyebrow at what he considered a major exaggeration. Sheila held her ground.

  "You don't see it, but the rest of us do. Look at poor Ruby. She'll be fumbling and stumbling for the rest of the morning all because of you. You've been given a powerful weapon, Yoda. Learn to use it wisely."

  The teasing twinkle in Sheila's eyes made Spencer grin. Deliberately, he winked. She merely crossed her arms, her expression unchanged.

  "Some of us are naturally immune. Now, enough flirting, young man. Ruby had one thing right. You don't have an appointment with anybody in the building. Not that it matters. Who are you here to see?"

  "Norris Grant."

  In a snap, Sheila morphed from friend to office manager. Moving to the desk, she picked up the phone. She didn't expect him to give her a reason. Spencer's stature meant she put his request right through. No questions asked.

  "Arlene? Spencer Kraig would like to see Mr. Grant." Sheila listened, nodding. "I'll send him right up."

  "Thank you, Sheila."

  As Spencer approached the elevators, a ding sounded. Doors slid open. He waited for the car to empty before entering. He hit the button for the seventh floor and waited.

  Norris Grant was a ruse. Spencer's real reason for being there had nothing to do with the vice president in charge of player development. Not that he let Norris know. He stopped by his friend's office. Gave him the old, I was just in the neighborhood, line.

  After a few minutes shooting the breeze, Spencer took another elevator ride, this time to the ninth floor and the office of a certain redhead. One Blue O'Hara.

  Something Blue said the night before had planted itself in Spencer's brain. A niggling annoyance that he had to clear up before it drove him crazy.

  I know you didn't want me to get the job with the Cyclones.

  Blue hadn't accused him. She didn't make it a question. Angry. A little hurt. She believed what she said. If he hadn't been so surprised, Spencer would have denied it then and there. But before he could, she was in her car, driving away in what he could only describe as a fit of self-righteous indignation.

  The hell with that.

  Spencer had done some things he wasn't very proud of—once or twice. But trying to block Blue's career opportunity wasn't one of them. Where she'd gotten the mistaken idea, he couldn't say. But he planned on finding out.

  As he approached the reception area, a man in a Cyclones' t-shirt—with hair dyed a matching dark blue with white stripes—greeted him. Unlike Ruby, the man wasn't terribly impressed by the sight of Spencer Kraig.

  "May I help you?"

  It seemed odd that someone who put that much effort into looking like a walking Cyclones' advertisement didn't recognize one of the team's most visible players. But Spencer didn't really care. At the moment, he had more important things on his mind.

  "I'd like to speak to Blue O'Hara."

  The man gave Spencer a smile that didn't reach beyond the slight twitch of his lips. He glanced at his computer.

  "Do you have an appointment?"

  "No. I tell you what, Ernie," Spencer said, reading the name tag pinned just above the swirling C in the Cyclone logo on the man's t-shirt. "If you'd tell Ms. O'Hara that Spencer Kraig is here, I'm sure she'll see me."

  Actually, Spencer had no idea how Blue would react. She might let him into her office. Knowing Blue—if she were genuinely pissed off—her first instinct would be to have him thrown from the building. Though causing such a spectacle was hardly an option no matter how tempting she might find it.

  Ernie swallowed nervously. He hadn't recognized the face, but Spencer's name rang all kinds of bells.

  "Of course, Mr. Kraig. I'm sorry. Just give me a second." Wiping the newly formed beads of sweat from his upper lip, Ernie lifted the phone.

  "Hello? Ms. O'Hara? Mr. Spencer Kraig is here in the reception area."

  Ernie listened, his mouth dropping open. Swallowing again, he looked at Spencer, his eyes pleading. "Ms. O'Hara would like to speak with you."

  Taking pity on the man, Spencer raised the receiver to his ear. "Blue."

  "What do you want, Spencer?"

  "What I don't want is to stand out here like a leper. Jesus, Blue. I'm ten feet from your office door. Stop acting like a child and let me in."

  "Calling me a child in front of my assistant—at my place of business—isn't the way to get what you want."

  "You know the old saying about the squeaky wheel, Bluebell."

  "Honestly? You sound more like a child than I do." Spencer heard Blue's exasperated sigh. He'd take that over anger any day. "Can we do this in ten minutes or less?"

  Spencer almost made a joke. One of a sexual nature. He caught himself, remembering where he was.

  "I can't make any guarantees."

  "You never could," Blue muttered. "Fine," she said after a brief pause. "Come in."

  Spencer handed Ernie the phone.

  "Yes, Ms. O'Hara. Your lunch appointment is at twelve-thirty."

  Setting down the phone, Ernie rushed around his desk, opening the door for Spencer.

  The office wasn't anything special. Small. A little cramped. Four walls without a window. But Blue had added a few personal touches—family pictures in antique frames and a bright blue paperweight made of solid glass—that made the room feel a little more welcoming.

  Spencer wished he could say the same for the expression on Blue's face.

  "You don't look in the mood for pleasantries."

  "No kidding." Blue didn't rise to greet him, staying in her seat, keeping the wooden desk between them. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

  "At the risk of exceeding my allotted ten-minute window, may I say that you look good, Blue. I should have said so last night. But," Spencer shrugged. "The moment passed."

  "Is that why you're here? To rectify your error?"

  Unconcerned when Blue didn't ask him to sit, Spenc
er moved to the chair opposite her. "You were beautiful at twenty-two. Four years later. You're gorgeous. Keep a lid on that redhead's temper. It isn't flattery if I'm stating a fact."

  Even in the harsh fluorescent light, Blue's skin glowed like burnished porcelain, a testament to her Irish ancestors. Her figure had always run toward slender, but she'd acquired a few more curves—in all the right places.

  And of course, that face.

  When Blue was younger, her every emotion would travel across her features, telling a story. Happiness. Anger. Sorrow. And love. Spencer remembered the way her gray eyes glowed the first time she said the words to him.

  Right now, those same eyes narrowed. A sure sign of Blue's growing impatience.

  "Great. Fine. Wonderful. You want to exchange compliments?" Blue threw up her hands. "I'm freaking gorgeous, and you get more handsome with every passing year."

  Lips twitching, Spencer nodded as if accepting his due. His show of arrogance had the desired effect. The gray of Blue's eyes turned a stormy silver.

  "You're trying to piss me off," Blue accused.

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Nostalgia?"

  Spencer had always enjoyed pushing Blue's buttons. She was quick to anger. And just as quickly, she'd laugh it off. He didn't know which he enjoyed more. The dark flash of her eyes, or the bright curve of her lips.

  In the next instant, he had his answer. Blue's smile—even a reluctant one. He couldn't imagine anything better in the world.

  Blue sat back in her chair, shaking her head. "Let's start again, shall we? Why are you here, Spencer? Is there something you need from the PR department?"

  "My visit is personal."

  "I see." No longer relaxed, Blue placed her hands on the desk. "We moved past personal a long time ago, Spencer."

  "You're right. Four years is a long time. I'd like for us to be friends."

  "I wanted that, too. But…" Blue sighed.

  There. She gave Spencer the perfect opening. But what?

  "What made you think I didn't want you to have this job?"

  Blue hesitated. Then, as if making up her mind, she met Spencer's gaze.

  "I was told—from a reliable source—that you made your objections clear to the team."

  "That isn't true."

  "Something delayed their decision. From what I understand, I was the frontrunner. Then I wasn't. Something—or somebody—raised some red flags."

  "Whatever happened, I had nothing to do with it. Do you believe me?"

  The sadness in Blue's eyes sent a dart toward his heart. At the last second, the projectile swerved, missing by inches, telling Spencer that his word still meant something.

  "I don't understand. I had a great interview. When I flew back to New York, I was certain I had the job. If you didn't say something, who did?"

  Spencer had no idea. "I received a call from the team president."

  "Not an everyday occurrence," Blue said with a frown.

  "You're right." Spencer and Eric Bryce weren't exactly casual chat buddies. An unexpected call meant something out of the ordinary was in the wind. "He asked me about you. It isn't common knowledge that we dated. Nor is it a secret. It's more—"

  "Ancient history?"

  "Let's not age us any more than necessary," Spencer chuckled. "It seems that somebody—Eric didn't name names—whispered in his ear that since your job will require you to travel with the team quite a bit, I might object."

  Blue's mouth twisted. "Your sensibilities are important. Mine aren't."

  "I have an obscenely large guaranteed contract. You don't."

  "Money." Blue's tone was philosophical.

  "It gives me a certain amount of clout. Delivering on the field gives me even more. You deserved to get this job, Blue. And I made certain Eric Bryce knew how I felt."

  "Thank you, Spencer."

  Slowly, Spencer grinned. "I bet you never thought you'd be saying that today."

  "Or any other day." Blue returned his smile. And—as always—it made his stomach do a slow roll.

  "I'd like to know who tried to sabotage me."

  "Does it really matter?" Spencer asked.

  "Only if they plan on undermining me in the future." Standing, Blue took her jacket from the back of her chair. "Rather than worry about it, I'll do the best job possible. If anybody has a problem with that, they can go to hell."

  "Sounds like a plan." Spencer helped Blue on with her jacket, catching the pleased surprise that flashed across her face.

  "Brace yourself for another thank you."

  His hands lingered ever so briefly on Blue's shoulders before dropping them to his sides.

  "A second thank you in one day? What did I do to deserve that?"

  "You made an effort to clear the air between us."

  "Either that or drive myself crazy wondering what I'd done."

  Blue raised her hand as if she would touch him. To Spencer's disappointment, she changed her mind at the last second.

  "Let's try to be friends."

  "We're already friends, Blue. We always were." Spencer opened the door moving to the side to let her go first. "All we have to do is remember."

  "I did a lot of that last night."

  Before she could stop him, Spencer took Blue's hand. "I won't ask you to forget the bad times. Just, maybe, think of the good ones as often as possible."

  Firmly, Blue took back her hand. But when she looked at him, her eyes were a clear, bright gray.

  "Maybe I will."

  CHAPTER SIX

  "When is your next date with Wonderful Warren?" Jordyn asked as they took their seats in the movie theater.

  "Funny. Ha, freaking, ha." Blue crossed her legs, her booted foot lightly tapping the empty chair in front of her. "The only good thing about that date was my mother's reaction. She was so embarrassed by Warren's behavior I might be safe from the fix-ups. At least in the foreseeable future."

  "You found a trace of victory in a bad date. Yay! Do me a favor and send the memo my mother's way."

  "Enough talk about men—bad or otherwise. Pick a different subject."

  "I'm on it. After I say one more man-related thing."

  Blue rolled her eyes dramatically. "Fine."

  "I'm glad you and Spencer cleared the air. Though I'm not happy that you didn't tell me what happened."

  From the moment Blue and Spencer started dating, an awkward no-man's land developed between her and Jordyn. Things she'd have told her best friend were off limits to Spencer's sister.

  "In a strictly friendly way," Blue clarified. She didn't want Jordyn to get the wrong idea.

  Jordyn raised an eyebrow—a gesture so like Spencer's that Blue wondered why she hadn't noticed it before.

  "Right. Just friends." Under her breath, Jordyn added, "For now."

  "Jordyn…"

  "All I'm saying is some of the best love stories are the ones with second chances."

  "Jordyn." Blue's tone went from a warning to something more philosophical. "Spencer was my first love. For two years, I thought we were practically perfect. Then, we weren't."

  "Because Spencer broke your heart. But—"

  A healed heart carried scars. Sometimes, no matter how much time had passed, those scars tended to ache. Blue closed her eyes, listening. She felt a twinge. However, the beat was strong and steady.

  "Spencer broke my heart. Period. No ifs, ands, or buts. As I told him, I want us to be friends. Time will tell if that is possible."

  "How is your job going?" Jordyn asked.

  Blue smiled. Change of subject complete.

  "Good. Borderline great. Vance Sutter is a bit of a curmudgeon. He seems stuck in his ways."

  Talk about putting it mildly. Vance wanted things done his way. Which meant the way he'd done them for over twenty years. Blue had all kinds of ideas to bring the public relations department into the twenty-first century. Those ideas were a big part of
why she'd been hired.

  "I want to give myself a chance to settle in. Do I approach Vance with a straight-to-the-point attitude? Or will it take something subtler."

  "He resents that you're a woman."

  Jordyn was her own boss. But that didn't mean she was immune to sexism. There would always be men—and other women, unfortunately—who resented a woman's success. Luckily, Blue and Jordyn had grown up with fathers who encouraged them to shine as brightly as their talent and brains allowed.

  "Vance doesn't like anybody who has new ideas. My gender doesn't help, but something tells me he wouldn't have welcomed a young, forward-thinking man either."

  "Knowing he's slated for the ax can't help."

  Blue frowned. "I was told retirement is Vance's choice. Now that I've met him, I'm not so sure."

  "You have nothing to do with the decision, Blue. In two years, you'll be head of PR for the Cyclones."

  "If I show them I can do it." Mentally, Blue crossed her fingers. "That is the plan."

  If management kept their word. Nothing was in writing. And a lot could happen in two years.

  "When have you ever failed to get something you really put your mind to?"

  "Never."

  "There you go." Jordyn lowered her voice as the lights dimmed. "By the time we hit thirty, we'll rule the Seattle business scene. You on the sports side, me on the entrepreneurial side.

  Blue had lost track of the times they shared their dreams of making it to the top. On their own. No helping hands. The exact details would vary. When she was fourteen, Blue didn't know she'd choose public relations. Jordyn hadn't decided on selling high-end beauty products in five stores and counting.

  However, they were confident—that no matter their paths—they couldn't fail.

  "We rock," Blue said.

  Jordyn bumped her fist to Blue's.

  "Damn straight, we do."

  "WE HAVE THREE players scheduled to appear on the Today Show next week."

  Vance Sutter continued to study his computer screen as he spoke to Blue. They had fallen into an increasingly annoying routine during their morning meetings. He did all the talking. Her one contribution? Listen. In silence.