The Hot Corner (4 page)

I don’t know what made me do it, but I ducked behind a pillar and watched as he and Bailey strolled by. I couldn’t see his face, but I could see hers, and I had seen that look before. I knew that look. It was the one I wore in every picture of the two of us together.

She loved him.

“I can’t thank you enough for being here for me. I needed you,” he told her.

He needed her? Shouldn’t it be me he needed?

“Like I’d miss the most important games of your life? I had to be here.”

I hated her. I hated the way she smiled at him and the way she looked at him as if he was her entire world. He was mine, damn it.

“Yeah, but with everything going on . . .” His shoulders slumped, and he pulled her into a hug. It felt like a knife wound straight to my heart.

“I love you, Brad. Where else would I be?” Hearing her confirm it made me want to vomit all over the hideous brown carpet.

“I love you, too.”

Forget the knife wound. This was a gunshot. I felt like I was bleeding onto the floor as I gripped the pillar and gasped for breath. She ran her hand up his back and into his hair, and he seemed to melt into her, his knees bending just a little, his back hunching. She leaned back and looked into his eyes. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Her lips parted. When she pressed her mouth to his, I turned around and ran.

Tears spilled over my cheeks as I hurried out the door and onto the airport shuttle. When I could talk again, I’d call my mom and ask her to get me a ticket home. I wasn’t staying here to see him and his other girlfriend—well, his only girlfriend—celebrate his victory.

He won, too, of course. I found out after my plane landed back in Tampa. Bailey obviously had brought him more luck than I ever could.

Then he called me like nothing had happened. He left me messages filled with sweet words about missing me and wondering where I was and why I wasn’t answering his calls. But I couldn’t. Even though I was angry, even though my heart had been stomped on by his sharpest pair of cleats, I still wanted him to win

After he did, he called me almost immediately. Blond Bailey was probably preparing a special celebration for the two of them, but he had time to squeeze me in. That was the call I finally took.

“Red? Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for the past three days. I was getting worried about you.”

“I’ve been busy.” I kept my voice flat and emotionless. I wasn’t going to let him hear me cry. I’d save that for after.

“Too busy for your boyfriend? What’s wrong, Dani?”

“Nothing. I have a life, too, you know. It doesn’t just revolve around your needs.”

There was a long pause at the end of the line. “I don’t remember asking you to. I just thought—”

“We both thought a lot of things,” I said. I didn’t need to hear his bullshit. “What else have you been up to these past few days? I mean, besides playing baseball?” He had one chance to tell me about her.

“That’s about it, really. Eating, sleeping, and playing.” He was playing, all right. “I’ve really needed you, and I can’t tell you how much it hurt that you weren’t there for me. Why haven’t you called me back?”

That did it. “I’m sure you had all you needed without me, Brad.”

“What is this? What’s going on?”

I closed my eyes and prayed for the strength I needed to get through this. I would not cry. I would not let him convince me to give him a second chance.

“I think it’s fairly obvious this has run its course.”

“This? As in us?” His voice got higher. “Are you breaking up with me?”

I bit my lip. “I’ve heard the sportscasters. They all say you’ve done what you were expected to and it’s time for you to go pro. The Dodgers took you number one overall. You have no reason to return to school.”

“No reason, huh?” The edge was in his voice now. He was getting mad. Good. That would make this easier.

“None.”

“And that’s it? We’re done because you say so? Are you doing this because you think you’re standing in the way of my career? The pros can wait a year, and you can go with me. It’s what we always planned.”

That was before I knew he was a lying cheater. “Plans change. You need to do what’s right for you and not worry about me.” My eyes were stinging but I blinked back the tears.

“How can you ask me to do that? I love you.”

For once, the words did not melt me. Not after I’d heard him say them to someone else. “I’m sure you’ll forget all about me once you get to LA.”

“What the hell, Dani? How can you say that? You know that’s not true.”

“All I know is that you need to sign with the Dodgers and start your life. I’m going to do the same. Goodbye, Brad.”

I disconnected before he could say another word and shut it off before I could lose my resolve. Hearing the hurt and confusion in his voice had nearly done me in. If only I could have gotten the image of him and her out of my head, I just might have stayed with him.

I reached up and unclasped the necklace I couldn’t bear to remove until it was officially done and tossed it aside as I let the tears fall.

Chapter 4

I could hear the sound of the bat connecting with the ball before I even stepped out onto the field, that satisfying crack that indicated good contact. I hated to admit it, but I stopped for a second and took a breath to steady myself before I laid eyes on him in person for the first time in years. I’d had a couple of months to prepare myself, but now that the day was here, the nerves were back in full force.

The Dodgers hadn’t been willing to let me attend spring training. I guess they thought I was going to spy on them and sell their secrets to the highest bidder, or maybe give my former newspaper a scoop. I didn’t know, but I didn’t protest. I’d welcomed the time to prepare myself mentally and, yes, physically as well. I’d gotten a new haircut and a facial and I’d worked out every day for two months so I actually had some definition and muscle tone going on. It was vain and stupid, but I didn’t care. I knew he looked better than he had in college, and I wanted to do the same.

I steeled myself and followed the security guard through the bullpen. I wanted to be awed by the size and history of Dodger Stadium, but my eyes were drawn to the man standing at the plate. I watched as he cocked the bat up above his shoulder and moved his hips in a way all too familiar to me. Muscles bunched together as he took his stance, and the look of fierce concentration on his face had me lost in memories. It was just wrong that his sex face was the same as his game face. It was also wrong that I remembered so easily what he’d looked like when we made love.

The pitcher fired the ball across the plate. Brad’s hips swiveled, his arms came down, and the ball went flying over the fence. He
would
hit a home run the instant I walked onto the field. Jerk. Then again, this was only batting practice. They purposely threw easy pitches in batting practice.

Brad laughed and taunted his coach, who gave him the finger before firing the ball low and inside. Brad danced out of the way as the coach shouted, “Strike!”

“That was a ball and you know it. Are you trying to brush me back, old man?”

“Hands, if I wanted to I could bean you before you even thought of moving.”

Brad laughed and took his stance again. The pitching coach went into his wind-up and let the ball fly. Brad hit it with ease, smoking what would be a single between short and third. I couldn’t help but admire the way his jersey hugged his body and the way those pants showed off what had become a prime ass. He’d always had a great one, but time had improved it. Everything about him was better. It wasn’t fair.

“Well, hello, pretty lady.” I planted a smile on my face and waved to the pitching coach who’d caught sight of me. Brad’s head whipped around and I was grateful I had my sunglasses on. I felt like I’d be scorched just meeting that hot gaze.

The older man tugged off his glove and tossed it on the mound before jogging over to me. “You must be Dani Young. I’m Tom Hardison.”

My smile felt less forced at the obvious kindness in his craggy face as he grinned at me. I shook his offered hand. “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you, Tom.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” His other hand came up to envelop mine. “He didn’t tell me how beautiful you were. No wonder he asked me to make him look good.”

“I did no such thing.” Because he was right there and it would be impolite not to look, I turned to Brad. “I look good without your help.”

It was true, unfortunately. Up close and personal he nearly took my breath away with that sharp, defined jaw, the stubble that made him look more rugged, those light green eyes that were intent on my face, and that tousled black hair that still looked good despite having been covered by his hat up until a minute ago.

“Hello, Dani.” He didn’t offer a hand, and I wasn’t sure I would have taken it if he had. Being near him was hard enough without adding touching to the mix.

“Brad.”

Tom glanced between us before laughing. “This is going to be a lot of fun. So I hear you’re going to write about Hands here?”

“Hands?” I asked, my eyes drawn to the very appendages he was referring to. Oh yeah, I remembered those. Strong, capable hands.

“That’s what I call our boy Reynolds. There’s nobody with better hands than him. Best third baseman I’ve ever worked with, and I’ve worked with some greats.”

That figured. At least he occasionally used his hands to do his job instead of feel up random blondes.

“I’m sure she’ll be talking to you eventually, Tom.” Brad gave him a look and got a smirk in return before Tom turned to me and tipped his hat.

“It was nice meeting you, Dani. Feel free to ask me for insider info about this one anytime you like.”

“I will.” He seemed sweet, and I looked forward to talking to him. In fact, I wanted to beg him to stay and start telling those stories now, but he was already trotting toward the mound to get his glove.

I turned back to find Brad staring at me, and I had to resist the urge to check my face to make sure I hadn’t gotten any dirt on it. “What?”

“You look good.” His soft accent was the same, even if the rest of him wasn’t. And it still made my traitorous heart skip a beat.

“Thanks. You do, too.”

He looked smug, and I remembered I didn’t like him anymore.

“Thanks. Shall we?” He gestured to the dugout and I followed him down, doing my best not to admire the way his white pants showed off his muscular legs. I failed, but at least I tried. It was annoying that he looked so good. He reached the bench, grabbed two water bottles out of the cooler, and offered me one. I took it and drank deep. It was a beautiful seventy degrees, but I felt overheated. He sat down, and I sat a few feet away.

“So,” he said. There was that irritating smile again. “You’re the expert here. What do we do?”

Expert, my ass. He was fully in control of this situation and it was one of the many reasons I hated him. I pushed down my sunglasses and gave him my best withering stare. “Why don’t you tell me why I’m here?” There. I asked. The ball was in his court now, and I didn’t care that I was mixing sports analogies.

“You’re here to write my story, of course. Isn’t that what you do?” He looked so damn smug and proud of himself. I wanted to punch him like I should have in Omaha when he was busy declaring his love to Bailey, who obviously hadn’t lasted any longer than I had since he now dated a parade of actresses and models. At least I had that small bit of satisfaction.

“No, what I do is write stories about athletes overcoming adversity on their way to greatness. What adversity have you faced?”

His smile slipped. “Oh, I don’t know, growing up without a mother, maybe? Being molded from the time I could walk by my father? Losing the only . . . you know what? It doesn’t matter. You’re here and we’re stuck with each other, so we may as well suck it up and work together.”

I felt a pang. He’d never told me his mother leaving had bothered him at all. He’d rarely brought her up, and if I had, he’d shrugged it off.

“I’m sorry. You always told me she didn’t matter.”

“She shouldn’t.” That hot green gaze burned into me. “Nobody that walks away without a second glance is deserving of my time or energy.”

Direct hit. I winced but didn’t look away. “Then I ask you again, why am I here?”

“And I tell you again, to tell my story.”

I huffed. “Stop being deliberately obtuse, Brad. You could have picked anybody to tell your story, so why me? What reason could you have to drag me across the country and back into your life?”

He leaned back and crossed his long legs at the ankles. “Well, now, that’s a very good question. No wonder you’re so good at your job.”

I recognized deflection when I saw it. “That’s not an answer.”

He took a swig from his bottle, stopping to lick a droplet off his lips. Ass. I knew what he was doing and it wasn’t going to work. “I’m just saying you’re good at your job, and I want someone who has talent.”