Too bad the trip from the bar to the dining room was a short one. They arrived before Spencer could enlighten her. However, as he held her chair for her to sit, he whispered.
"I'll tell you later. If you're still interested."
Silly question. Blue was only human. Of course, she was interested. And from the light in his eyes, Spencer knew it.
Damn the man.
"This is one of my favorite hotels. Bar none." Ross adjusted his sizable girth, getting as close to the table as his stomach would allow. "The rooms are comfortable. The service top-notch. And the food." He laughed—mostly at himself—patting his belly. "Our boys have their father's appetite. Luckily, they inherited their mother's metabolism."
"I left Ross Jr. and Tristan by the pool," Sherry said, explaining why the younger Burtons weren't with them. "They preferred another hour of swimming and room service to, and I quote, boring, grown-up talk. Though if they'd known Spencer would be here, they undoubtedly would've changed their tune."
"They're fine young men." Spencer smiled at the proud parents.
"That they are," Ross said with a nod.
After they'd ordered, Sherry turned to Blue.
"Please continue what you were saying in the bar. How this isn't your first Spring Training?"
"My dad taught me everything I know about baseball." Blue watched as the waitress delivered her glass of white wine, thanking her. "Lauren and Dale, my brother and sister, like the game, I adore it. For Christmas one year, my gift was a trip to Arizona to watch the Cyclones. A whole week. Just me and my father."
"How lovely," Sherry beamed. "We always hear stories about fathers and sons bonding over baseball. Yours is the first I've heard about a father and daughter."
"You'd be surprised how often it happens. For Dad, baseball is a passion. When my brother didn't share his feelings, I know he was disappointed. Luckily, I made up for Dale's disinterest."
"Lucky for both you and your father."
Though Blue rarely thought about how fortunate she was, that didn't mean she took her parents—their love and support—for granted.
Baseball was a perfect example.
Blue's father wanted somebody to share his love of the venerable game. He had no preference. Son or daughter. And her mother had been happy to watch her husband bond so tightly with his little girl.
Happy. That word summed up the O'Hara clan. Not perfect—thank God. How boring would that be? Blue loved each member of her family. Warts and all.
Her parents had raised three fairly well-adjusted individuals who contributed to society. They taught Blue and her siblings well. Love thy neighbor—but never let them walk all over you. Stand up for what's right. Help those less fortunate. If help isn't possible, do no harm.
Neither saints nor sinners, Blue's family fell somewhere wonderfully in between.
"Blue is an unusual name," Ross took a sip of his wine, smiling. "What's the origin?"
Blue understood when Ross invited her to dinner, the purpose was to get to know her. Smart. Exactly what she'd have done. A wise leader kept his eyes straight ahead, while never losing sight of his soldiers. To succeed—no, to flourish—he made a point to discover their strengths and weaknesses. He never knew when the knowledge would come in handy.
At the moment, Blue wasn't high on the Cyclones' food chain. But one day, she might be. Ross seemed jovial. Relaxed. Underneath, she understood that much more was happening.
An informal future job interview—for want of a better description.
Blue's path was clear. One day, she'd head the PR department. However, the final decision wasn't hers to make. Ross didn't have to like her—though that wouldn't hurt. He did have to trust her.
A little thing like how Blue's parents came up with her name might have seemed like a benign question. The point wasn't her answer. This was a step. Small, but heading in the right direction.
"Originally, Dad wanted to call me Beatrice—after his mother."
"You don't look like a Bea," Sherry observed. With her fork, she speared an olive from the salad, waving it for emphasis. "Blue suits you much better."
"I agree. Luckily, Mom pulled the, I just survived twelve hours of labor card."
"A card I'm well acquainted with." Taking Sherry's hand, Ross squeezed, his eyes filled with warm affection.
Blue smiled. She grew up around openly affectionate parents. Cynicism was easy in this day and age of celebrity insta-couples. In love one second, out the next. However, she could testify that the real deal existed. Connie and Clark O'Hara were her shining example.
Unless Blue's radar was out of whack, she could add Ross and Sherry to that small, but encouraging, list.
"Understandably, Mom was still a little groggy when, back in her hospital room, she held me. Dad sat on the edge of the bed. Beaming proudly. According to Mom, when she looked up, she was struck by the mid-afternoon sky. Crystal clear. Dazzlingly blue."
"Ah," Sherry nodded. "Inspiration struck out of the blue."
Ross groaned. "Bet you've never heard that one before."
"Once or twice," Blue laughed with good humor. "The important part? Dad didn't have the heart to argue. Beatrice was out. Blue was in."
"I think the name is lovely. But as I said, unusual. Children can be cruel. Sometimes unintentionally. Were you teased?"
Without conscious thought, Blue's eyes fell on Spencer.
Spencer's gaze holding hers. She was certain his lips twitched. "Cruelty was never my intention."
"You and Spencer have known each other a long time, haven't you?" Sherry leaned in with interest. "Didn't you date for a while?"
"Sherry…" Ross warned his wife.
"I'm sorry. Was that rude? You seem so at ease with each other." Sherry seemed genuinely contrite. With a sigh, she said, "Hello. My name is Sherry, and I'm a gossip addict."
"Hello, Sherry." Laughing, Blue shook Sherry's outstretched hand. "I can't speak for Spencer. But I don't think this is technically considered gossip."
Spencer sent Sherry an automatic, unintentionally sigh-inducing smile. Right on cue, she heard a gasp of air escape the woman's mouth.
"Blue's right. Our past relationship is common knowledge. Yes, we dated."
"And…?" It seemed Sherry couldn't help herself. "Any chance we see a reconciliation?"
"Sherry!" Ross' voice lost its indulgent tone. "That is none of your business." He looked first at Blue, then Spencer. "To put a cap on this conversation, let me be clear. The Cyclones have no objection to our employees dating. However. If it were to become a distraction, that rule could change. Very quickly."
Blue didn't know what to say. The turn of events had her flummoxed.
Running the exchange through her head, she couldn't for the life of her figure out when she'd indicated the slightest desire to resume her relationship with Spencer.
Yet for some reason, Ross felt compelled to give them the green light. With a very important proviso.
They had Ross' blessing. Unless things become messy. Then every woman for herself. Make no mistake. Blue was expendable. Spencer wasn't.
Warning given and received.
When it came to Spencer, Blue didn't know what she wanted. She was fairly certain he felt the same about her. The waters had cleared—slightly. But not enough.
When it came to Blue's career, she had no doubts. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it.
Blue was no longer a starry-eyed young woman with a vague and endless future stretching out as far as the eye could see. Which meant, if anything—anything—happened between her and Spencer, she had to be certain the risk was worth taking.
This time more than Blue's heart was at stake.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"WALKING ME TO my room wasn't necessary."
Spencer shrugged. "For my peace of mind, indulge me."
As Blue retrieved the keycard from her purse, she couldn't help but dwell on how she felt f
inding Spencer at her side.
The way he automatically shortened his stride to meet hers. How his arm almost brushed hers. How she wished it would.
Normal and right versus unnerving and unsettling.
The battle warred inside Blue. Deep down, she knew which side she wanted to win. But she had to ask herself. Was she rooting for good or evil?
"Want to share the joke?"
Realizing she hadn't kept her laughter to herself, Blue shook her head.
"Crazy thoughts. Nothing worth repeating."
As they reached her door, Spencer shot Blue a skeptical look.
"Something tells me you're not telling me everything. But I'll let it slide."
"Gee. Thanks." Sarcasm dripped from each word. "FYI? I didn't give you a choice."
"I could badger you."
"I could slam the door in your face."
"Or," Spencer said, his hand shooting out to prevent Blue from doing exactly that. "You could invite me in."
"No. I couldn't."
Blue's gaze was steady. Her tone, emphatic. Spencer didn't need to know that temptation sat on her shoulder, whispering in her ear.
Where's the harm?
"Just for a little while?"
Spencer didn't whisper. But he was plenty tempting.
Blue couldn't help remember when she'd used similar words to coax him into having sex with her for the first time. From the slow smile that formed on his lips, Spencer's thoughts were headed the same way as hers.
"What do you want, Spencer?"
"Something to drink?"
"Don't play the fool," Blue said, her patience wearing thin. "You know what I meant. Us. What do you want to happen?"
"I don't know. But—"
"No buts, Spencer. No ifs. No ands. I need a straight out, to the point, bullshit-free answer."
"Fair enough." Heaving a sigh, Spencer ran a hand through his hair. "How about you, Blue? What do you want?"
"I don't know. Not that long ago I thought I did."
Funny, Blue thought. Suddenly, not so long ago felt like years.
"On that, we can agree."
Blue found a little solace in the fact that Spencer looked as confused as she felt. The normally clear green of his irises was shadowed with emotions she recognized all too well.
Conflict. With a chaser of doubt.
"Falling into bed with each other would be easy."
Spencer nodded, desire flaring in his eyes.
"I want more. However," Blue hurried, not ready for Spencer's answer. If he had one. "I don't know if I want more with you."
"Is there a chance for me?" Spencer's gaze sharpened as if the possibility appealed to him. "A chance for us?"
"That's the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question."
Without another word—she had nothing else to say—Blue entered her hotel room and slowly closed the door. But before she could click it shut, Spencer stopped her.
"I changed my mind," he said.
"You can't come in, Spencer." Blue planted her feet, determined to keep him out. The spiked heels of her shoes didn't give her a lot of support, but they wouldn't stop her from trying.
"That's not what I meant." Spencer held the edge of the door in a white-knuckled grip. "I don't know if breaking up with you was the right decision. But I sure as hell know the way I went about it turned into a fucking disaster."
Blue couldn't argue. Her legs feeling a little wobbly, she crossed her arms, waiting for Spencer to continue.
"I don't want to make an even bigger mistake by not telling you how I feel."
"Okay."
"I don't know if I deserve another chance. But if you can find it in your heart to give me one, I'll jump at it. Both feet. No hesitation."
Blue took a shaky breath. Too soon, part of her cried. The cautious part that still remembered the pain. The other part. Reckless with a shorter memory wanted to grab Spencer and damn the consequences.
As if sensing her struggle, Spencer backed off.
"Whatever you need. However long it takes. I'm in, Blue. All the way. Call me. Text me. Send up smoke signals. I'll be there."
Closing the door, Blue sank onto the bed, her heart racing. She had a lot to consider. But at the moment, two words kept circling through her mind on a constant, giddy loop.
Holy crap.
THE CYCLONES' CHARITY golf tournament was an annual event. One day out of their usual Spring Training routine, the players looked forward to it. Fans lined the course for a chance to see some of their favorite athletes out of the usual venue.
A good cause and plenty of fun. The event was a no-brainer regarding turnout and success.
Blue could've run the PR side blindfolded with one hand tied behind her back. Her presence wasn't necessary. A safety measure just in case.
Whatever just in case was, it never happened. Not in the history of the event. And not today. As a result, Blue was able to enjoy the beautiful, cloudless Arizona afternoon.
Officially, on the job. But with nothing to do but bask in the sun, Blue's mind naturally wandered to more personal thoughts.
On the edge of the golf course, surrounded by excited spectators, flanked by her boss' wife and two sons, all Blue could think about was Spencer. And the words he left her with the night before.
I'm in, Blue. All the way.
Whatever you need. However long it takes.
Call me. Text me. Send up smoke signals. I'll be there.
Unexpected. Shocking. Thrilling. Spencer's declaration had quite literally taken Blue's breath away. She had to remind herself to breathe. Sitting on the bed, her hands clutching the covers, her mind spinning, she took in much-needed oxygen while wondering if her heart raced out of excitement, fear, or a crazy combination of the two.
Blue's sleep—what there was of it—was filled with Spencer.
Her first waking thought? Spencer. As she showered? Picked out the perfect outfit—yellow Capri pants, sleeveless white shirt, and flat, strappy sandals perfect for walking on a golf course? Checked her messages?
Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.
If the man's motive had been to invade her mind to the exclusion of all else, mission accomplished.
"I'm not a big golf fan," Sherry Burton said. Dressed for the warm day, she wore crisp white Bermuda shorts and a floral top. She removed her big, floppy hat, using it as a fan before returning it to her head. "But I do enjoy watching well-built young men in motion. Very nice."
Blue couldn't argue. The object of Sherry's attention was the Cyclones' buzzed-about rookie outfielder Drake Langford, as he stepped up to take his turn, driver in hand.
Young, tall, blond, muscular, Langford looked as if he'd just stepped off a box of Wheaties.
The perfect all-American boy. It didn't hurt that he could hit a nasty slider over the center field fence. Or track a fly ball like a state-of-the-art GPS unit.
"There's already talk of him winning rookie of the year. What do you think?"
"That March is the time for hyperbole," Blue observed. "Let's talk again in September."
Sherry laughed. "I always know when I'm talking to a true baseball person. Like my husband, you won't be drawn into making predictions."
"That isn't true. I predict today will be a smashing success."
"That's like saying the sun will come up in the east."
"I only bet on sure things." Smiling, Blue adjusted her sunglasses. "However, I'll concede that Drake Langford has the potential to be a superstar. Five-tool players are hard to come by. The Cyclones are lucky to have him."
"Five tools?" Sherry sighed. "Ross would bust a gasket if I admitted how little I know about this game and all the terms."
"Hitting for power and average, fielding ability, throwing ability, and speed."
"Spencer!" Delighted, Sherry put a hand on his arm. "How lucky am I? I ask a question, and a handsome young man materializes to answer."
Unconcerned
by the stir his presence caused around them, Spencer patted Sherry's hand.
"When I noticed the beautiful woman in the gallery, I couldn't resist coming over."
"Such a charmer."
Blue was a firm believer in the idea that no woman over a certain age should giggle. Period. She made no exceptions.
Yet, for some unfathomable reason, Sherry Burton managed to pull the sound off with perfect aplomb.
Spencer turned toward Blue. Dressed for a day on the links, his long legs were encased in a pair of casual khakis. Black golf shoes. The short-sleeved polo shirt of the same color showed off his tanned, muscular arms to perfection.
The dark sunglasses made it impossible for Blue to see his eyes. But she had no problem picturing them
Emerald green. Bright as a newly mown meadow. Focused intently on Blue.
"Hello."
One word and her heart beat faster.
"Spencer."
Blue wasn't in danger of giggling. Between the arid, desert air, and an inconveniently sudden case of nerves, she was lucky to push Spencer's name past her dry tongue and parched lips.
Thank goodness Sherry's sons had no such problem. Not quite teenagers, Ross Jr. and Tristan pounced on Spencer with enviable ease, breaking the tension.
"Are you going to hit forty homers this year, Spencer?" Tristan asked, his dark hair gleaming with streaks.
"More like fifty," Ross Jr. proclaimed with the superiority of an older—and therefore, much wiser—brother.
The golfers had moved to the next hole, so his mother saw no need to tamp down on the boys' ramped-up exuberance.
"We'll see," Spencer chuckled, placing a friendly hand on Ross Jr.'s shoulder, repeating the gesture with Tristan.
Basking in Spencer's attention, the Burton brothers seemed to grow several inches, their necks bent as they gazed at their idol with wide-eyed adoration.
"Individual stats are great. But baseball is a team sport. If I hit one or one hundred homers," Spencer winked. The boys snickered. "All that matters is helping the Cyclones win. Am I right?"
Tristan and Ross Jr. nodded, on board with anything Spencer had to say. Thank goodness he used his powers for good, Blue thought with a smile. In the wrong hands, the kind of blind devotion he inspired could wreak unimaginable havoc.
For a Little While (One Strike Away Book 1) Page 10
