Chapter Twenty
A gentle rain started an hour after Maisy hit the road. By the time she entered the city, it had turned into a steady shower that showed no signs of abating. Unable to enter the Commodore’s parking garage, she had been forced to park two blocks away. It took a moment for the doorman to recognize her standing in the lobby with her hair plastered to her face and water dripping off her drenched yellow dress onto the marble floor. When he did, his face split open with a grin. He gave her Sam’s apartment number and waved her right up.
She knocked on Sam’s door and realized she was shivering when saw her own hand shaking. She knocked again.
No one answered.
If it weren’t for the sound of the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Californication coming from within, she might have thought no one was home. She raised her fist to pound harder when the door swung open.
“Maisy?”
Sam clutched the door as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, Sam.” She swallowed her relief. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to look like when she found him. Certainly not this relaxed man who bore no resemblance to the haggard and angry man who had stood toe to toe with Zoom earlier today. He wore faded jeans and no shoes. She had the overwhelming urge to tackle him and never let him go.
“I came as soon as I heard.”
“Maisy, you shouldn’t be anywhere near Indianapolis.”
“Who cares.” She launched herself at him. Staggering backward, he lifted her off her feet and pulled her close.
When they came up for air, the front of his T-shirt was as wet as her dress. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine,” she laughed.
“Bull, you’re soaked through.” He grabbed a towel from a linen closet and wrapped it around her.
She lowered her neck and enjoyed the towel massage he was giving. “I can’t believe Zoom fired you.”
Sam rubbed the towel over her head and kissed her. “Technically it’s a suspension.” He said it as if they were discussing the rudiments of grammar, not his whole career.
“The radio just said Zoom demanded your resignation.”
He calmly blotted the ends of her hair until she couldn’t stay still anymore. She shook her hair like a shaggy dog. “It wasn’t your fault that the players are idiotic enough to think my clothes are good luck.”
She marched into his living room, her shoes squelching along the marble tile. She kicked them off and kept going.
While she paced the perimeter of his living room, he picked up her bag. “A bag? This is promising. Maisy, please put on some dry clothes.”
Maisy was on her second lap of the room, the yellow dress clinging to her legs. “Be serious, Sam. You could probably sue over this. You had nothing to do with the players wearing my stuff.”
“Maybe I should have kept the shoes. I could have used some good luck.” He gazed down at his bare feet. “Never mind. We don’t wear the same size.”
She stopped in front of him and put her hands on her hips. “How can you joke about this? Your career is on the line.”
He tossed the bag on the couch and pulled her toward him. “My career is always on the line.” Cupping her face, he explained, “That’s baseball, Maisy. Every time the team takes the field, my career is on the line. The players’, too. A fielding error, a slump, a player who shouldn’t have been brought up from the minors, a bad month, a losing season. It’s all the same for us. We’re out in a heartbeat. Although I will say, I may be the first manager to be fired over a ball gown.”
“And me. You were fired for protecting me. I can’t live with that.”
He lost his smile. “Hey. That was nonnegotiable. Kevin and the Turbos used you for way too long. And so did I.”
“And exactly whose fault was that?” She lowered her head to his chest. “Mine. All mine. No one’s fault but my own.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I let it happen.”
“You’re being way too hard on yourself.”
“No, I’m not. I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m a victim of this.”
“I never saw you as a victim at all. You’re more like a superhero to me.”
That was one of the sweetest things she’d ever heard. But she knew he was just trying to make her feel better. Sam was always running around managing players and coaches and pleasing Zoom. Now he was trying to keep her from being hurt. But who protected him? She wished she could be the hero he thought she was.
An idea suddenly popped into her head, but it was interrupted by Sam.
“Maisy, I’m serious. These wet clothes have to go.” He plucked at her damp clothing, lifted the dress over her head. In the space of a second, all her plans were forgotten.
Sam sent her a wicked smile. “Do you prefer the steamy shower or the large bathtub?”
Maisy’s body was already warming up. “Would that bathtub happen to be big enough for two?”
“Does it matter?”
***
Never had a suspended manager felt so happy. Sam snaked his toe to the tap and turned the hot water on. The grin would never leave his face.
“Very impressive for a man with a broken toe,” Maisy purred.
“Impressive. I like that word, especially after—”
“I meant that maneuver with your toe.” She giggled.
He wiggled his other foot. “All healed.”
“And your performance underwater.” Her comment earned her a slow and lazy kiss.
Seeing her shivering in his doorway earlier had woken some primal instinct inside Sam. The last of his worries of baseball and his job had dissolved. Instead, the mission to warm her up had become the most important thing in the world. Of course, one thing had led to another…and another. Now, small plumes of steam caught the flickering candlelight and he used his toe again to shut off the water.
He didn’t want to leave this tub. Ever.
It turned out the large tub fit them both just fine. He’d managed to find an old, stubby candle he’d bought after an ice storm last winter when the building generator hadn’t worked. It rested on the ledge, right next to two wineglasses and a half-empty bottle of Chianti he’d been meaning to give to Tristan.
He ran his hand along the nape of Maisy’s neck. She sighed. “That was a nice home run, Hunter.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t strike out.”
“No way, slugger! That one was out of the ballpark.”
He celebrated, splashing her in the process. “Bam!”
“You seem in an amazingly good mood considering…”
“Considering what? I just got myself a home run.”
She reached for her glass. Her breasts glistened in the light and he admired the line of her shoulders, her narrow waist and hips, and the cute little dimples above her bottom. She was splendid.
He leaned forward to nuzzle her shoulder, but she dodged away.
“We need to talk and you’re trying to distract me.”
He caught her and pulled her close. “Says the biggest distraction in my life. I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything since I first saw you on that barstool drinking tequila and wiggling your—”
She squealed when his hands cupped her under the water. “Sam! Stop. We need to talk about today. What are you going to do?”
“I thought I just made it clear what I was going to do.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “How about a double header?”
“I think we just maxed out our baseball metaphor quota.” She bit her lip, but the smile was there anyway. Curling into him, she said, “You are purposely avoiding the subject of your horrible day.”
That sobered him by a small degree. He still couldn’t erase the memory of Maisy standing next to Charlie Zumaeta in the gymnasium this morning. It was a wonder she didn’t have any bruises from the emotional wrestling match the Turbos had put her through all summer.
It was amazing that a woman could look so beautiful after all that. Her skin glowed and her dark eyes flickered in the candlelight. He smoothed a bead of water away from her eyebrow. “I seem to recall that it was a pretty tough day for you, too.”
She took a long sip and leveled him with a gaze. “I’m not going to fall apart from all of this.”
He emptied the rest of the bottle into her glass. “I never once thought you would, Miss Gray. But Zoom’s offer was devious, even for him. When I heard him ask the kids if they wanted a playground, I almost climbed over a little girl in a pink dress to get to him.”
She giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“A tight budget? That was a quick response.”
“It’s true, but I felt like such a bastard. I hated to disappoint the kids.” God knew he had sent grown men back to the minors and laid off people who needed their jobs to support their families.
Being a boss sucked. But disappointing kids was beyond his experience.
“Don’t worry about the kids, Sam. Dr. Harding caught me after school and said an anonymous donor was paying for the playground and…” Her voice trailed off.
Sam stole her glass and took a long sip. “I have another bottle in the kitchen. I just—”
She put her hand on his and studied him. “Did anyone ever tell you that you suck at lying?”
“Never. In fact, I think you mentioned I was a pretty good liar once.” He didn’t want her to be indebted to him. It would make him feel like Charlie Zumaeta.
She slapped him on the chest. Half the glass spilled into the bath water. “Oh, my God, Sam! I can’t believe you did that!”
Her dark eyes blazed in the candlelight. Her cheeks were flushed. Her breasts jutted out farther. The best tactic would be to make her forget the conversation. He leaned toward her to lick the water off the tops of her breasts.
Dogs barking split the air. Maisy jumped.
“My sister. She and my mom have called half a dozen times already. I told them not to worry.” It was true. He’d felt lighter and lighter with every step he’d taken away from the stadium. He hadn’t realized how much stress he had been under until it was gone.
“Your poor family. They must be so worried,” Maisy said.
“They know I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”
She frowned. “You’ve been taking care of a lot of people along the way. Me included.”
“You weren’t saying that in July.” He put the glass down and rubbed her earlobe.
She tucked her shoulder under his arm and rested her hand on his chest. “Who takes care of you, Sam?”
“Don’t worry about me, Maisy. I always manage to land on my feet. I’ll do it again. And besides, if this falls through, there are a lot of jobs in baseball.”
Even as he said the words, Sam knew that wasn’t true. Being the GM of a major-league baseball team was the opportunity of a lifetime for someone his age.
Worse than being fired was the way it had happened. If it were a simple issue of budget problems or too many games in the L column, he’d be able to write it off to youth and inexperience. This termination came with a long ladder to climb. For all his joking, he couldn’t erase the fact that he’d basically humiliated the organization and made a spectacle of the team.
As sobering as all that was, the beautiful woman in his arms made up for everything. He angled his head to get a better look at her face. She was staring at the candle, her lips pressed firmly together as if she had made a decision. Hopefully it involved him and a bed and the promise of more time together.
Together. It was a fine word. But there were better words than that.
He’d always clung to a basic strategy whether on the field or off. Keep your head down. Don’t let them see your face. Don’t let them guess the pitch. For some reason, Sam had assumed relationships were the same. This one wasn’t.
It was suddenly okay to show the signal. And it felt right because of that.
“I love you, Maisy.” The words slipped from his lips easier than he’d imagined they would. He almost didn’t care if she didn’t feel the same way.
He saw her startled face and added, “Hey, don’t feel like you have to answer. I’m not very good at this. And right now, I’m unemployed, so I’m not some great catch.”
Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. Then she smiled. Something deep down inside him began to burn brightly.
She curled her hand around his. “I love you, too, Sam.”