After a long night in which sleep had been elusive, Amy sat at her desk at Logan-Johnson, unable to concentrate on the files sitting in a neat pile in front of her. The dull ache in her head had been her constant companion since she’d forced herself to get out of bed this morning. Aspirin hadn’t helped and neither had a strong cup of coffee. Even Danny had sensed she wasn’t herself and had thankfully completed his morning routine without a fuss.

No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t think of anything else except Rick. On a day that should be filled with happiness, her stomach was tied in knots, and as much as she wanted to put it off, this time she couldn’t. If she and Rick were to have any chance at all for a future together, he had to know the circumstances behind her leaving Barstow. And she had to tell him today—before Kirby Ferrara made good on her threats.

At nine, she’d headed for Jade’s office only to find it empty. Although she knew what had to be done, she needed moral support from her best friend. But now it was past ten and Jade was nowhere to be seen and hadn’t returned her texts. It was probably the universe’s way of telling her to get on with it already. Waiting to talk to Jade would only prolong the inevitable. Either Rick would understand why she’d kept silent, or he wouldn’t. So basically she had a fifty-fifty chance. In the scheme of things, it could be worse.

Across the room, two of her co-workers were talking about their plans for the weekend. A ski weekend in Lake Tahoe and a wine-tasting trip to Sonoma. Both sounded like fun. What would her weekend hold? An outing with Rick and Danny, or sitting on the couch with a half-gallon of ice cream and a spoon, binge-watching something that wouldn’t make her think of love and romance?

Her cellphone chimed, forcing her to table her morose thoughts. She picked it up and her heart started to thud as she stared at Rick’s name on the screen. Her slow dance with procrastination was officially over. “Good morning,” she said, surprised at the steadiness of her voice.

“Hey. I thought I’d check in and see how your morning’s going.”

“It’s been busy.” She swiveled her chair toward her computer screen and lowered her voice. “I’m glad you called. I have to work at Stylus tonight, but I was hoping we could get together before I start my shift.”

“I’d like that. Do you want to meet at the café where we met before?”

“No. I’ll come over to your place. If it’s okay with you.”

“It’s more than okay. I’ll have you all to myself.”

The warmth in his voice made Amy’s heart ache. Would he want to see her again after she dropped the bomb? “How does six-thirty sound?”

“Sounds good. I’ll make something so you don’t have to go to work on an empty stomach.”

“That’s sweet, but you don’t have to go to any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. I have to eat so I’ll make enough for both of us. How do you feel about—” Rick paused and she heard muffled voices. “Sorry, I’ve got to cut this short. Trey needs to go over some foundation stuff with me. I’ll tell you about it when I see you tonight.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon,” she said, then set her phone on the desk and attempted to work. Opening a file, she prepped it and then another one for scanning, then almost jumped out of her skin when her phone chimed again. Relief filled her at the sight of Jade’s name on the screen. She snatched up the phone with a shaky hand. “Where are you? I’ve been texting you all morning,” she said, not bothering with pleasantries.

“I was at Blaze Field. I’m on my way to the office now,” Jade said, her voice tinny from the hands-free device she used from her car. “What’s going on?”

“Kirby Ferrara was at the fundraiser last night. She knows about my past and she’s going to make sure Rick does too.” Amy couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice. “I just got off the phone with him. I can’t take the chance she’ll find some way to get to him before I’m able to tell him, so I’m going over to his place tonight, before my shift at Stylus. I’m scared to death he won’t understand, but I have to do it. It has to come from me.”

“I agree, and...” Jade paused. “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“Rick and Trey are doing a press conference this morning. That’s why I was at Blaze Field. I stopped by to give them my notes and we met for about an hour.”

“Why are they having a press conference so soon?” Amy asked as alarm bells went off in her head. “The foundation isn’t officially established yet.”

“I know, but we decided we wanted to get the word out.”

The air froze in Amy lungs. “Oh my God. What if Kirby knows about the press conference?”

“I’m not sure how she would. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t see her in the media room before I left.”

It didn’t make her feel better. Not even close. “What if she sends someone else to do her dirty work?” Amy whispered as one of her co-workers sent a curious glance her way. “Someone like her probably has a ton of media connections.”

“You’re right. We can’t rule out that possibility. There were a few people in the room I’ve never seen before.”

“I need to get to Rick,” Amy said, biting back the urge to scream. “When does the press conference start?”

“In about ten minutes, but those things usually never start on time. I’m a couple of blocks away. Tell Carrie I asked you to bring over a file I need for a meeting with Rick and Trey after the press conference. I’ll pick you up out front, and if the traffic gods are with us, I’ll get you to Blaze Field in time to talk to Rick.”

Amy opened her drawer and grabbed her purse. “I’ll meet you at the curb,” she said, then without waiting for Jade to respond, she ended the call. Jumping up from her chair, she headed for her boss’s office, all the while praying she’d get to Rick before Kirby Ferrara or one of her henchmen hit him with the information she should have shared with him last night. If that happened, all the apologies in the world wouldn’t earn her Rick’s forgiveness. Of that, she was absolutely certain.

Rick had never been a fan of press conferences. After games, or any other time. For the most part, the sports media asked intelligent questions, but there were times when their questions were nothing more than asinine remarks offered up in an effort to get a rise out of a player, or elicit personal information on a player’s life off the field. He considered himself lucky that when he’d returned to the Blaze last season the press had focused on his athletic performance on the field rather than Jill’s death or his crash and burn afterward.

Today, the Blaze media room was set up like it normally was after a game. A rectangular table covered with a black, linen tablecloth with the Blaze’s logo had been placed on a raised platform enabling the players sitting at the table a better view of the media representatives sitting in the rows of chairs arranged in front of the platform. A single speaker podium was set off to the side where the team’s audio-visual tech was currently testing the microphone. Two mics had also been placed at the table where he and Trey would sit to discuss the foundation and take questions.

Standing near the two steps that led to the platform, Rick surveyed the media reps who sat waiting for the press conference to start. As his and Trey’s announcement wasn’t related to the upcoming season, the room wasn’t filled to capacity. He’d counted about twelve reporters and recognized all but two of them. One of them, a guy about Rick’s age with dark slicked back hair gave him a nod before looking down at his phone. At the back of the room, Trey and Tom Morgan, who’d shown up to introduce them, were near the door talking to Kelly Maxwell-Scanlon who worked in media relations.

Just then his phone vibrated. Pulling it from the back pocket of his jeans, he glanced at the screen and seeing Jill’s mother’s name, he answered the call. “Hey, Merilee,” he said as he moved to the corner of the room behind the raised platform. “Are you and Grady in Oklahoma City already?”

Merilee laughed. “Not yet. The contingent offer on the property I was telling you about the last time we talked was accepted, and our place is going on the market next week. Our realtor already has a buyer lined up. I’m calling because while I was cleaning out the spare room I came across a box had Jill dropped off a month or so before she...” Merilee paused. “...before the accident. I don’t have the heart to toss it out so I thought I’d send it to you.”

“Do you know what’s inside?”

“Looks like a couple of photo albums, and some cards and letters she’d saved. You know how sentimental she was. I didn’t go through it all, but I think you should have it. There might be something in there you’d like to keep. I’d be more than happy to mail it to you.”

Knowing Jill, it was probably recipes she’d collected or greeting cards and photos that had held a special meaning for her. But why had she left the box with her parents when they’d had plenty of room in their own house to store it? He was almost positive he wouldn’t save any of it, but if it would make Merilee feel better to send it to him rather than dispose of it, he’d take it off her hands. “Go ahead and send it to me. My parents can give you my address.”

“I’ll get it out to you just as soon as I can get to the post office,” she said, then let out a wistful sigh. “You know, I remember the day she dropped off the box. It was right after y’all had told us about the baby. She was so happy she was glowing. I was so relieved because a couple of months before that she’d told me that things weren’t going so well between the two of you and that you might split up. I can’t tell you how happy I was that you forgave her for all that foolishness with Chase Clifford.”

Rick’s stomach bottomed out and his heart began to pound. “What are you talking about? Jill and I never talked about splitting up. And who the hell is Chase Clifford?”

“Oh, good Lord,” Merilee whispered. “I thought you knew. Oh, Rick, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“But you did,” he said through gritted teeth as he turned to face the wall. “Who is Chase Clifford and how did he know Jill?”

After a short silence, Merilee answered his question. “Chase worked at the stables where Jill boarded Solomon.”

The stables? Rick frowned. Jill had spent a lot of time there after he’d been injured and was forced to cut his rookie season short. “Were they having an affair?”

“No. It never got that far.”

“How can you be sure? Did she tell you?”

After a long pause, Merilee spoke, “No. But I’m sure Jill would never cheat on you.”

Of course, Merilee was sure. She’d never think the worst of Jill, and neither would he. Or at least he never would have before now. But for Jill to tell her mother they were thinking of splitting up meant that it was either an affair or one hell of an infatuation.

Rick squeezed his eyes shut. “We’ll never know for sure, will we?” he said, then flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Trey standing behind him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re ready to start,” Trey said with a grin, then turned and stepped onto the platform and took a seat at one of the chairs at the table.

“I’m sorry, Merilee. I can’t talk now,” he said, then hung up before Merilee could respond.

Shoving his phone into his pocket, Rick stepped onto the platform and settled into the chair next to Trey, trying to wrap his mind around what he’d just learned about Jill. His wife, the woman he’d known and trusted since they were kids, had been so unhappy she’d turned to another man for comfort, and who knows what else. Since high school they’d shared everything, yet she’d been unable to talk to him about how she was feeling. Why?

The question reverberated in Rick’s head as Tom took his place at the podium. Tom adjusted the microphone, then rested his palms on either side of the podium, his gaze skating over the assembled media. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here this morning. While Trey and Rick’s venture is not directly connected to the Blaze organization, we support their efforts one hundred percent and were more than happy to host their press conference today,” he said, then gave them an encouraging nod before continuing, “As many of you are aware, Rick and Trey have dealt with some major challenges the past few years and have overcome them with grace and dignity. To see these two fine young men team up to establish a scholarship foundation for underserved youths makes me and the entire organization extremely proud. And to make sure the focus stays on the foundation and not the Blaze, I’ll be leaving the media room now that I’ve said my peace.” Tom grinned, then stepped away from the podium and exited out the side door that led to his office.

“Why did you decide to establish the foundation?” Leah Porter asked from her seat in the front row.

“I’ll take that one,” Trey said, slanting a quick glance at Rick. “Not many of you know this but during our rookie year, before Rick was injured, he and I roomed together when the team was on the road. You get to know someone pretty well when you have to share a room, and it didn’t take long for us to become friends, despite the fact that he’s a Southern boy and I’m a Yankee.” Trey paused as the media cadre laughed. “Though I still have to wonder about a guy from Texas that doesn’t know how to ride a horse.”

Rick made an effort to smile. Leave it to Trey to bring up his aversion to horses, but the humorous jab only served to twist the knife lodged in his gut. Chase Clifford had worked at the stables, which could only mean he knew how to handle horses, and undoubtedly enjoyed riding them. The same as Jill had. Maybe that shared interest had led to something more. Had Jill and Chase become lovers while he was busting his ass at the rehabilitation center trying to recover from his injuries? Was Jill truly happy when she’d told him about their baby?

The baby.

His gut clenched and bile inched up his throat. Son of a bitch. Was the baby even his? Or was it Chase’s? A surge of anger mixed with a large helping of betrayal washed over him. He clenched a fist and tried to focus on the task at hand. He had to get through the press conference. After that, he would call Merilee and find out what else she knew about Jill and Chase Clifford. Schooling his expression, he swung his attention toward Trey who was still talking.

“Rick and I got to talking one night about college and how lucky we’d been to get athletic scholarships. Now all of you know how involved the Blaze organization is in the community. In fact, the Community Fund cocktail party fundraiser was held last night at the Golden Gate Club, and between ticket sales and the silent auction, the Blaze doubled the amount raised from last year’s event.”

Trey flashed a smug grin in Rick’s direction. Not only had the fundraiser been a success. Rick now owed Trey dinner at his favorite restaurant. Trey’s guess on the winning bid for the four tickets in the luxury skybox had been the closest without going over.

“During that discussion we talked about teaming up at some point to support a worthy cause. But before we could talk about it further, life intervened, and when Rick left the team, I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t follow-up on the idea. But now that he’s back, we’ve decided to join forces and establish the Taylor-Gentry Foundation to help economically challenged students realize their dream of a college education.”

“Where will the funds come from for the scholarships?” Trevor Jackson, a sports reporter from a local television station asked.

“Good question, Trevor,” Rick said, surprised at the steadiness of his voice. He forced his suspicions about Jill out of his mind and continued, “The foundation will rely heavily on private contributions from individuals, corporations, and other philanthropic organizations.”

“Are the two of you figureheads, or will you be directly involved in the foundation?”

“We’ll be involved,” Trey said, directing his attention toward a balding forty-something reporter Rick recognized from a San Francisco daily newspaper.

“When will you find the time?” The man with the slicked back hair that Rick had noticed earlier asked with thinly veiled sarcasm. “What with baseball and your extracurricular activities with the ladies, how will you be able to swing it?”

The air in the room suddenly grew thick with tension. Rick glanced at Trey. A muscle ticked in his jaw and his grip on the mic was so tight his knuckles were white. “There will be a director of operations. Most charitable foundations have them,” Rick said, before Trey could speak. “However, Trey and I will be actively involved in publicizing the foundation, fundraising, and helping to develop the criteria for scholarships. This isn’t a vanity project by any means.”

“Have you hired a director of operations?” Leah interjected, relieving the tension somewhat.

Rick shook his head. “No. Our project manager, Jade O’Brien, will be working with a local staffing firm to help us find qualified candidates. We’re planning to interview the top applicants before we leave for spring training.”

“Trey, would your foundation accept a donation from the Blaze’s former owner Ava McCandless?” Again, it was the same reporter. Who was this guy? And why did he seem to have it out for Trey?

Silence descended on the room and all eyes were on Trey. Including Rick’s. No one in the past year had dared to ask about the woman that had falsely accused Trey of attempted rape. Trey’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.

Rick leaned forward to respond, but Trey beat him to it. “Her money is as green as anyone else’s,” Trey said, in a controlled voice. “Our priority is the students. If she wants to make a donation, we’ll take it.”

“So does that mean you two have buried the hatchet?”

“It means exactly what I said,” Trey said tersely. “We’ll accept a donation if she cares to make one.”

“What other services will your foundation provide?” an older woman sitting next to Leah asked.

“Support and coaching,” Trey replied, the stiffness easing from his voice. “We’d like to be able to give students the tools to help themselves.”

“Rick, would you care to comment on a story I’m working on? It’s called the Slugger and the Stripper.”

Rick frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to. Who are you and what media outlet do you represent?”

“Jay Pettit. City Inquisitor.” Jay’s grin widened. “The piece is an exposé on your girlfriend, Amy Vaughn.”

Rick’s pulse kicked into overdrive. How did this guy know Amy? “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You didn’t know that Ms. Vaughn worked at a strip club in Barstow? Or that she’s a suspect in the murder of her ex-boyfriend?”

“Is this your idea of a joke?” Rick demanded. The City Inquisitor was a Bay Area gossip rag and most of its stories were either false or grossly exaggerated.

“It’s no joke. I researched the story myself and can verify all my sources.”

Suddenly, the door at the back of the room opened and Amy stepped into the room, only to freeze as the reporters turned around in their chairs to look at her.

“Amy, we were just talking about you,” Jay Pettit said, and while Rick couldn’t see his face, he’d bet anything the reporter was sporting a smug smile. “Are you here to put on a show? Oh wait, there isn’t a pole in this room, is there?”

Several people gasped as Amy stood poised at the threshold, her face drained of color and her eyes wide and stricken.

“Shut your damn mouth or I’ll shut it for you.” Rick jumped up from his seat and tipped his chair in the process. It clattered to the floor as he stepped off the platform and strode toward Amy. That some dirt-bag could make such baseless accusations about her knotted his gut with raw fury. He had to get her out of the room and away from the reporters.

“Rick...” she began, her eyes moist with tears as he halted in front of her. “Please...please let me explain.”

“Explain what?” He stared at her for several seconds as she answered his question, not with words, but with the guilt that shimmered in her eyes. She wasn’t upset because what the reporter had said was a lie. Just the opposite. “It’s true?”

Her chin quivered as she nodded.

“Hey, Amy,” another male voice shouted. “Are you a stripper and a murderer?”

Rick clenched his fists but didn’t turn around. Anger swelled in his chest. He had to get away. From the reporters, but most of all, from Amy. Without a word, he stepped around her and left the woman who’d made a fool of him standing in the doorway alone.

Fighting back tears, Amy whirled around and took off after Rick. His long stride had carried him down the hall toward the clubhouse. Without a backward glance, he pulled open the door and disappeared inside. Several seconds later, skidding to a stop on linoleum floor, she wrenched open the door and rushed into the clubhouse. First, she checked the lounge. He wasn’t there. Then she hurried into the locker area and found it as empty as the lounge. The lights were off in the medical treatment and physical therapy rooms, so that left one other place he might have gone. The gym.

Striding across the room, she headed down the short hallway, opened the frosted glass door and stepped inside. As the door slowly closed behind her, she surveyed the large room. Rick was standing in front a rack that held several sets of barbells. He didn’t turn around, but when the door clicked shut, the slight movement of his shoulders indicated that he was aware of her presence. Gripping the strap of her purse like it was a lifeline, she weaved her way around the exercise machines until she stood directly behind him.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, reaching out to touch him, then letting her hand fall to her side. He wouldn’t welcome her touch. Not now, and maybe, never again. “I didn’t want you to find out like that.”

“Then why did I?” he demanded, turning around to face her, his expression darkened by a fierce scowl and his eyes blazing with fury. “Why did I find out important information about your past from some stranger and not you?”

Amy pressed her hand over her heart, like it would stop its frantic pounding. It didn’t. Somehow she had to make him understand that she never meant to hurt or embarrass him. “I tried to tell you the day we went to Sausalito, and then again last night, but I got scared. I’m sorry, Rick. So sorry. I know you’re angry and I don’t blame you. I should have told you everything as soon as we got serious, but I thought once you knew about my past you’d think less of me and whatever respect you had for me would disappear.”

Rick cocked his head and frowned. “You think I’m angry because of your past?” he demanded in a frigid voice she barely recognized. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not about that. It’s about trust. You didn’t trust me, and because of that I was totally blindsided at the press conference. If you’d been honest with me we could have gone to Adam for advice. He handles stuff like this. We could have been prepared.”

“I...I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“What?” His eyebrows rose. “You thought I’d stop caring about you if I knew the truth? You think so little of me? Of my character?”

Amy bit her lower lip. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then tell me how it was,” he said, his voice laced with angry sarcasm. “Please. I’m dying to know.”

“I wanted to leave that part of my life behind me. Can’t you understand that?”

“I’m not just anyone, Amy. I’m the man you said you were falling in love with.”

“I am falling in love with you.”

“Obviously not enough to trust me.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “If you’re looking for the whole ugly truth, here it is. I stripped for about six months. But I hated it so much I went back to waiting tables in the strip club. Finally, I’d had enough of the atmosphere and the drunks, so I quit and found a job at a real estate office. A job with health benefits. That’s where I met Bryce, my ex. He was a real estate agent. A good guy, or so I thought. It turned out he was using vacant houses to sell drugs. When I found out about it I broke up with him immediately. He threatened to hurt Danny if I went to the police and for several months I was scared to death he’d make good on his threat. He started harassing me and spreading lies about me. He told anyone that would listen that I’d cheated on him with a lot of other men.”

Rick’s unyielding expression didn’t change. “How did he die?”

“He was shot. He had some of my things and told me that he’d throw them away if I didn’t come pick them up. He said he’d put them in a box on his porch. When I got there the front door was ajar. I looked inside, saw him lying on the floor, and called 911. The police questioned me several times and finally cleared me, but by then the damage was done. Bryce’s friends and family members told anyone that would listen that I was the one who’d killed him. Almost the entire town believed I was a slut and a murderer. I got fired from my job and Danny started getting bullied in school. I came back to San Francisco to get him away from all of that and I started working two jobs to save money so I could move across the country and escape from all of the bad things that happened to me in California. But then I met you, and I didn’t want to leave anymore.”

He studied her, his eyes still unreadable. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She spread her hands, beseeching him to understand. “Do you think any of that is something I wanted to share with you? I was afraid of losing you,” she whispered as tears formed in her eyes. She blinked to hold them back, but they fell anyway

Rick dragged a hand through his hair. “You really don’t know me at all, do you? We rushed into this thing before really getting to know each other. Being in a relationship, a serious one, means trusting the other person enough to share important information and I don’t think I can be with someone who obviously doesn’t trust me.”

“So this is it? It’s over?”

Rick folded his arms over his chest and stared at her with eyes that were hard and inscrutable. “Answer me this; if someone else hadn’t found out about your past would you have ever told me about it?”

“I’d like to think so,” she said as she wiped at the wetness on her cheeks with her fingers. “But I...I don’t know.”

The cold glitter of his gaze turned her blood to ice. “I think you should leave. Now.”

Amy’s shoulders sagged as the fragile hope inside of her was snuffed out. She’d told him the truth, but it was too late and now her heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces. Turning, she managed to keep her composure until she left the gym. But once the door shut softly behind her, the pain closed in on her, the weight of it crushing her until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.