Center Stage: A Hot Baseball Romance (Diamond Brides Book 8) (16 page)

She knew he was a leg man; he’d made that perfectly clear. And she knew he was partial to leather. And she knew he was a generous lover, meeting her needs before his own. She knew the sound his breath made as it caught in his throat, just before he came.

But none of that was enough. None of it really mattered.

Zach was still on her mind, hovering over this conversation like a broad-shouldered ghost. Thank God Ryan had taken the bull by the horns, had told Zach what was going on between them. She didn’t think she ever would have had the nerve. She worried about her big brother, but she loved him, loved all her siblings, and so she asked, “What was it like, growing up without any brothers or sisters? What effect did that have on who you are today?”

He snorted, just a little laugh. “I feel like I’m filling out some job application.” But that didn’t keep him from going on. “In some ways, I totally lucked out. Mom thought I was perfect, at least until I learned to walk. Dad tried to make me understand I had to work for what I wanted, that I couldn’t just screw around for my entire life. They supported me even when I drove them crazy, probably because they didn’t have any option, any other kids who were doing the right thing, who were being good. I don’t know how you did it, one of six kids. It’d be like World War III half the time.”

“Not really. Not most of the time. Well, only with Beth and me. And not always then.” Just talking to him was relaxing her, easing the tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Sometimes I rely too much on all of them. I don’t make my own decisions.”

“That’s one good thing about being an only. You get that independence thing down fast.”

“I can be independent!” And she told him about the time she decided to make breakfast for the entire family, when she was only seven years old, and she wasn’t supposed to turn on the burners on the gas stove, so she kept the flame really high, trying to cook everything as fast as possible. Maybe that was why she couldn’t make a meal today—she’d been scarred for life by the charcoal French toast and the carbon-coated eggs she’d served up to an unappreciative crowd.

He matched her story with one of his own, about running away from home when his fourth-grade teacher sent him home with a disciplinary note. They talked about school—about how she’d always felt it was a playground, a place for her to make friends and learn new things and spread her wings. About how he’d thought every class was pretty much a waste of time, a boring hurdle to get over so he could play on the baseball team, on the football team, whatever.

At some point during the conversation, she stretched out on the couch. She reached for the old afghan blanket her mother had crocheted and snuggled deep against the cushions. She shifted her phone to a better angle, and then she asked him about the pets he’d had, about his favorite field trips from school, and she traded stories from her own past.

They talked until she had to bite back the yawns that threatened to dislocate her jaw. Her eyes were gritty, and she rubbed them hard before she gave up and kept them closed. Her voice grew hoarse, but that didn’t keep her from telling him longer stories, when she spun out more words.

She was half asleep when she murmured, “What do you want to
do
with your life? What will you do when you can’t play ball any more?”

Silence. At first, she thought he might have finally fallen asleep. But then he spoke, and his voice was steady and even, as calm as when he’d first answered this insane phone call. “I don’t like thinking about a time when I can’t play. But I imagine I’ll try to be like Dad, working with a farm team, trying to give back after everything I’ve taken.” He sighed. “I’m not a complicated man, Lindsey. I don’t have any hidden agenda. I know I love the game. And I love talking to you like this. That’s what I want, right now, and I don’t see any reason I won’t want it forever.”

She didn’t know that was the answer she’d been hoping for until she let out a shuddering breath. But she was smiling as she said, “Me, too. Not the baseball part. And not the stuff about your dad. And I don’t think I could help out any farm team in the league. But I’m having a damn good time, Ryan. I really am, even if you think I’m a crazy woman with this phone call.”

“If this is the closest you get to crazy, I think we’ll do just fine.”

And that was it. She’d survived the nightmare. She’d told him her greatest fears, asked him her most difficult questions, and she’d survived. They’d survived. They’d done more than that—she felt closer to him than she’d ever imagined she could. “Thank you,” she said, and the hoarse words were scarcely more than a whisper. “I can’t wait till you’re home.”

“Six more days, babe.”

The endearment curled her lips, drifting over her, even softer than the afghan. “You’ve got to be exhausted,” she said. “Get some sleep.”

“You too. Let’s talk tomorrow.” And those three words were a promise that she hadn’t scared him off, that her questions had pulled them closer, rather than driven him away. She drifted off to sleep feeling better than she had in weeks, months, years. Maybe in forever.

Lindsey had learned a long time ago that it didn’t make sense to wait for a Rockets charter in the main airport terminal. She’d met Zach often enough after a road series, ready to drive him to some family event, sometimes just wanting to see the brother who spent so much time on the road. She knew the guys’ flight wouldn’t show up on the airport’s sleek Arrivals screens. There wouldn’t be an entry down by the Baggage Claim carousels, telling where their suitcases would be brought.

So she used the skills of a lifetime and waited for Ryan by the bank of elevators, the ones that led directly to the parking garage.

Her pulse raced as she thought about seeing him again. She’d talked to the man every single night for past week and a half, each conversation more trusting and intimate than the one before.

Yes.
Intimate
. It wasn’t just the words. It wasn’t just the way he melted her body with his tone of voice. It wasn’t even the things he said he wanted to do with her, the first hour they were alone together after he got back to Raleigh.

It was the trust—the realization that Ryan Green was a man she could share things with. A man who would be there for her, no matter what was going on in his professional life, in his personal life, outside the confines of their relationship. Over and over again, through text and email and good old-fashioned conversation, he’d proven she could rely on him.

And that was why she was astonished when she discovered she wasn’t alone by the elevator bank. “Mr. Green!” she exclaimed, as she found Ryan’s father standing by the same silver doors. She tried desperately not to think about the silky black lingerie she wore beneath her street clothes. Instead, she tried to force her thoughts toward icebergs and frozen tundra, toward the Gobi Desert and the barren surface of the moon—anything that would keep her from thinking sexy thoughts in front of the father of the man she was dying to shag. She pretended enthusiasm as she said, “Ryan didn’t say anything about you meeting the team.”

He reached out and shook her hand. “Ryan didn’t know. I thought I’d surprise him.”

Lindsey cast a quick eye over the older man’s clothes. He wore a suit—charcoal pinstripes cut specifically to emphasize his broad shoulders, to take into account his bit of a paunch. His blue shirt was flawless, and he sported a perfect four-in-hand knot for his necktie. He was a far cry from the man she’d seen in the dusty beach house. “What brings you to town?”

“I had a meeting with the Rockets’ front office, about promotional profiles they’re doing for some of our boys. I figured, as long as I was coming up to the big city, I might as well dress the part.”

“The new job is going well?”

“Fantastic!” He sounded like he was fourteen years old and he’d just been invited to serve as ball-boy during the championship series. “It’s taken me a while to settle in. But this team knows how to sign great players, and it won’t be long before we’re getting the most out of every one of them. I really owe it to Ryan. He put himself on the line to get me this job, and I’ve never been happier.”

As much as Lindsey had been looking forward to an impassioned reunion with Ryan, she was glad to see Mr. Green looking so well. The poor man had certainly come a long way in the few weeks since she’d first met him.

Before she could say anything else, the elevator lobby was filled with men. There were a dozen of them at least, each more boisterous than the last—grateful to be free of the plane that had whisked them south, happy to be home with a day off before another grueling series began. The ballplayers filled all the available space, sucking the oxygen out of the air with their jokes and their antics.

Lindsey recognized every one of the faces. A couple were familiar from the years she’d worked on the Rockets’ promotional team. Others were friends of Zach, players he’d invited to the farmhouse for family dinners, orphans he’d taken in for Thanksgiving or Christmas or whatever other holidays stranded players far from their own homes.

She saw Zach by the far elevator, and she waved to him as he gave her a quizzical glance. She shook her head to chase away the worry on his face, trying to convey across the crowded space that she was fine, that she didn’t need him to break off his conversation on her behalf.

Because she’d found the man she was looking for. She’d found Ryan.

He dropped his duffel bag as she flew toward him. His arms were iron around her, cradling her, supporting her. His lips on hers were courteous at first, a respectful salute, but she answered his proper stance with a flick of her tongue, with an invitation she was dying for him to accept. She willed his hands to sear through her knit shirt; his sensitive fingertips
had
to sense the soft lace she could barely wait to show off to him.

But that sort of display would have to wait. She needed to step back, to nod toward Mr. Green, welcoming him forward. Ryan followed her reluctant lead, a bit bemused, and he turned to shake his father’s hand. “What are
you
doing here?” he asked.

But Lindsey didn’t hear the answer. Instead, she felt Zach’s fingers closing on her arm. Her brother tugged her over to a corner of the lobby, and he leaned close to whisper, “What the hell are you doing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, big brother. It’s not like I’m going to throw him down on the floor right here.”

“What are you doing with Ryan Green at all?” Zach took one look at her outfit, and she could have sworn he knew what she had on underneath.

Anger burst inside her, bright and glaring against the hazy pleasure Ryan’s kiss had kindled. “What the hell, Zach?” She kept her voice low, but she filled it with all the emotions she’d mastered onstage, the anger and shame and self-protectiveness she needed to make her point. “You know Ryan and I are seeing each other. Are you
trying
to embarrass me in front of the entire team?”

“I
know
—” He cut himself off and glared across at Ryan, who was still talking to Mr. Green. “What I
know
is that my baby sister was in bad shape a few weeks ago. And I know one of my teammates started to take advantage of that, so I told him to keep his goddamn hands off her.”

“I’m not a child, Zach!” She didn’t muffle her words that time. The only saving grace was that two elevators arrived simultaneously. Silver doors glided open, and most of the team hustled inside. From the few looks she caught, every one of those big, brave baseball players was scurrying away to escape the firestorm that was about to break.

Ryan didn’t leave, though. He closed the distance between them, bringing his father along to round out their little foursome. “Zach—” he began.

“Something you forgot to tell me, buddy?” Zach’s words were tight, and he barely spared his teammate a glance. Instead, he kept his gaze pinned on Lindsey.

I’m not afraid of Zach.
That’s what Ryan had said.
He and I already talked about this. About you.

She’d never asked him what they’d said. She’d never confirmed that Zach actually
approved
of her relationship with Ryan. She’d assumed everything was okay—which was exactly what Ryan had meant for her to do. He’d lied to her. Lied by omission, even if he hadn’t come right out and said, “Zach’s given us his blessing.”

She wiped her palms against the thighs of her jeans. “Zach,” she said. “I can explain everything.” She settled her hand on his arm, squeezing her fingers in a silent plea for him to understand.

He twitched free of her grasp. “No explanation necessary, Linds. This isn’t very complicated. Ryan and I made a deal. He kept away from you, and his father stayed with the Satellites. One of us didn’t live up to his commitment. What’ll it be, Green? Want to think about that choice again?”

She knew Zach was doing this to protect her. He was trying to keep her safe. And a few weeks earlier, she would have sat back and listened to him.

But this wasn’t three weeks ago. This wasn’t the day she’d just found out she was too old to play the Itsy Bitsy Fucking Mouse. And so she straightened her spine and she met her brother’s eyes, keeping her voice perfectly even as she said, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Zach. But I don’t need you protecting me that way. I know you only want what’s best for me. And what’s best for me is Ryan.”

She still believed that. Once they had a few minutes alone, Ryan would explain what had gone wrong, why he hadn’t confronted Zach. The two of them could talk about their relationship because they’d already talked about so many other things.

She waited for three beats, measuring out the scene like they were performing on some stage. She saw a muscle knot in Zach’s jaw. She watched him bite back some sort of reply, whatever angry words first came to the tip of his tongue. And then she turned toward the man she had chosen, the man who was perfect for her.

Ryan wouldn’t meet her eyes.

He stared at the tile floor as if the alternating black and white squares told him every secret of the universe. His shoulders were hunched, and his feet shuffled as he shifted his weight, left to right and back again. His fingers clenched into loose fists, opened again, gaped empty by his sides.