Erica

Baseball, the bane of my existence for so many reasons. The current one being I was about to be uprooted from my comfortable corner of the universe in New York to face the desert and my ex.

Rowe’s mouth was still hanging open from my admission.

“You dated Ren Makavoy?!”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me?!” She was sitting on my bed in our shared loft next to my open suitcase as I began to pluck clothes from my closet.

“Yes,” I answered softly. Shoulders slumped, I stared at the shirts in my hand.

This cannot be happening!

“We’ve been roommates for a year! How could you not tell me?!” The amount of hurt in her voice had my eyes drifting to her.

Rowe was a godsend after my first year alone in New York. I adored her, everything about her, from her sandy blond, sleek-cut bob to her ruby red pumps. Inside and out the woman had class, confidence, and she was exactly what I needed to pull me out of my slump. She was also inappropriate and crass at times, which only made me love her more. She was the sister I never had growing up in a house full of brothers. I’d wandered around New York my first thirteen months a zombie, and she helped to bring me back from the dead.

As if she could read my mind, she nodded. “Ren is why you wore yoga pants the first few months after I met you.”

“I’d already been through the worst of it and I just wanted to forget about it. Move on and start a life here.”

As far as living in New York went, I finally felt I had everything I needed. Leave it to Ren to screw me out of a comfortable place without him, even if it was temporary and unintentional on his part. Still, his shitty behavior is what landed us both in this situation. It was no real surprise the MLB reached out to the best PR firm in the country. It wasn’t just a coincidence; it was also my shitty luck.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” She sat patiently on the bed, her petite frame taking up only a quarter of it. She was manicured for her date but was making him wait for her in the lobby downstairs while seeing me off.

I tucked a few shirts in my suitcase and grabbed her hand before I sat down next to her.

“I’ve told you all about him. I just left out who he was.”

“That’s a pretty fucking big detail, Erica. Woman, he’s the most beautiful man on the planet! Like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said, placing her hand on her chest. “I don’t know how you handled that.”

“His looks were never an issue for us. He used to hate being labeled a pretty boy,” I said ironically. “I guess he’s finally using it to his advantage.”

“It all make’s sense now,” she said, piecing it together. “Why you hate watching baseball.”

“He’s one of the reasons, now. My mom is the other.”

Rowe nodded. She knew enough to put the pieces together. “So exactly what happened between you two?”

“I didn’t wait around to see,” I said with a thickening throat. “I couldn’t, Rowe.”

“In a way, I get it,” she said thoughtfully. “But, Ren Makavoy! Tell me he was as good as he looks.”

“Better than anything you can imagine,” I said softly.

“Do you regret it?” she asked carefully.

“For as long as it took for him to make his first headline.” I closed my eyes as a bitter laugh escaped. “How could I regret it now?” The threatening lump dissolved as damning images of him surrounded by a sea of silicone tits flashed through my mind. “He turned into exactly what I was afraid of.”

She looked at me with doe eyes and glossed lips. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

“Yes and no. He’s ruined my opinion of him, right along with everyone else’s. I know not all that’s printed is the real story, but if half of its true, he’s not the guy I knew. He got caught up in the celebrity of it all, I guess. There’s nothing there to hold on to. I’m moving on,” I said with a grin. “Thanks to you.”

Rowe pursed her lips.

“What?”

“It’s just that you haven’t dated much this last year. Like, at all.”

“I have,” I defended weakly.

“Yeah, right,” she deadpanned.

“I’ve been busy at the firm. You know that.”

Rowe nodded. “Fine. Blame the firm.” Before I had a chance to argue, she stood. “Erica, you can do this. I want you to call me every damn day.”

“I know I can,” I sighed. “I just don’t want to.”

She squeezed my shoulders as if she was prepping me for war. “Listen to me, woman. You can do this. You are the toughest bitch I know. Just be the annoying professional you are and get it done.”

I groaned as I zipped my suitcase. “I have to trail him like a club wife all over the country. It’s ironic, isn’t it? This is exactly what I didn’t want.”

She stood and smoothed out her dress. “If there’s one thing I know about you. Erica Wild, it’s that you know how to play ball.”

A sharp laugh escaped despite my mood. “That’s the cheesiest pun I’ve ever heard in my life,” I said with a smile.

“Give him hell, babe,” she said before she pulled me into a hug. “And call me if you need backup.”

* * *

Jerked awake as the wheels of the plane touched down, I mourned the last of my New York reality. Ten months of my life were about to revolve around baseball and Ren, and I didn’t know which I dreaded more. It was like a jail sentence, or I was paying penance for leaving him, or both. City lights twinkled out of the dirty window and distracted me as the captain spoke about the time and temperature. I’d never been to Scottsdale and had no desire to. I hated the heat. It was a good thing the weather would be bearable for spring training.

I pulled my abused suitcase from the overhead compartment and hailed a cab to the hotel. To my surprise, the hotel was a small consolation. Zellner had his secretary arrange my stay, and if I had no other comfort, at least I could take solace in the posh surroundings of my temporary home.

My shoulders sagged in relief for the first time that day, until I heard a familiar laugh come from the bar just across the lobby. Ren was a room away. Momentarily stunned, I took a deep breath.

An older man greeted me at the front desk. “Welcome to Paradise Valley.”

I bit my lip in an attempt to hold in my sarcastic reply. “Thanks,” I said dryly.

“Wild, Erica, checking in.”

The desk clerk eyed me. “Wild?”

“Yep,” I popped out, avoiding eye contact as another laugh crashed into my chest and threatened to rattle me.

Don’t look. You know if you look around that corner you will see him. You need a night of prep. Just. Don’t. Look!

“They are making a little noise tonight,” the clerk said with a chuckle. “They’ve calmed down a bit. Training starts in two days.” The man, in his upper fifties, leaned over to me conspiratorially with wide eyes. “Baseball. Major Leagues.”

I had no choice but to smile. “Ah, I see.”

“They shouldn’t be a problem for you,” he assured me.

My smile still plastered, I spoke through my teeth. “From your lips to God’s ears.”

“I’ve got you in room 212, and the bellman will take up your bag.”

“No need,” I said as I took the keycard. “I’m all set.”

“Enjoy your stay, Ms. Wild.”

“Thank you.”

The next laugh shattered my resolve. Using a rubber plant as camouflage, I peeked around the corner. I recognized Hembrey, the pitcher, first. He’d made a fast track from the Minors and pitched his way onto one of the best teams in the Majors. And standing opposite him with a beer in hand was Ren.

I fought for breath as I took in his tall, muscular frame in dark jeans that clung to his thick thighs and perfect ass. The T-shirt he modeled was unfit for the classy bar. Except it wasn’t the clothes that made him stand out. It was the way he held himself.

He had a Denver cap on backward that hid his thick black hair. And I knew if he glanced my way, I’d be paralyzed where I stood, like the first time I saw him three years ago. No other man I’d ever met had the soul-stealing eyes of Ren Makavoy. And no man ever would. My pulse kicked up as I studied his profile made up of dark, thick lashes, high cheekbones, full lips, and a masculine jaw. He was a living dream.

And at one point in time, he had been mine and I his, and now we were total strangers. The man I knew wasn’t a playboy. Sure, he was cocky to a point and assured of his talent. But off the field, he was a different kind of man. He dreamed of having a family, baseball, and little else. And though his dreams weren’t very original, they were the dreams of a man who grew up with nothing. So, for Ren, that made them big. He was a closet nerd behind his perfect structure and sexy swagger. Ren had the perfect mathematical brain for ball, and that was one of the aces he carried up his sleeve. And I doubted any of the women he’d bedded in the last few years knew how excited he got when a new Transformer movie trailer came out. Or that he color-coded his closet. Or that he was a germaphobe and sanitized everything.

And every one of those quirks had me falling harder for him than I’d ever imagined possible. Even when I told him we wouldn’t happen within the first ten minutes of meeting him. Even when I let him kiss me that night after he pulled his first card trick to get the date. Two years apart seemed like nothing as I gazed at him only feet away.

Aching to see his vivid, neon blue eyes, I watched him as a flood of precious moments filtered through my aching brain.

“What happened to you?” I murmured across the space between us.

As if he knew someone was watching him, he began to turn his head my way. Within seconds, I was safely on the elevator, chest heaving and throat on fire.

With the doors safely closed, I sank against the weight of the feelings that threatened to stir. I was nowhere near ready to face him. Ren was one of those men that physically stunned with his looks, paralyzing you before he devoured you. And when he struck, he did it with precision. Nerdy quirks aside, the man knew how to use it to his advantage.

I’d talked a fair game to Rowe, but I knew without any doubt my mental game had to be strong to face him head-on. My attraction to him went far deeper than his skin, always had, but the man’s beauty was a tough thing to press past. It was no exaggeration that he was one of the best-looking men alive. And I had first-hand knowledge of what it felt like to have his full attention. I shivered at the memory of his mouth, fingers, and tongue.

Walking on Jell-O legs toward my room door, I cursed the weakness in me and pressed the key card in before I burst into my room and tried to catch my breath. An hour later, and after a very expensive mini bar raid, I felt the tension start to ease.

In less than twelve hours, I would have to face those eyes, but it didn’t mean I had to rehash our past. I may have a weakness for the man, but I damned sure didn’t have to show it, and any feelings I had left were for the former version of Ren.

I was in charge of fixing his reputation. It was a job. He was a job, no more. And I would handle it like I did everything else. Despite my earlier remark to Rowe, who was a safe world away, she was right. It was time to play ball.