Double Play Read online

  A new, scary sense of responsibility made him a little light-headed. He was a father. He was responsible for that scrap of life. His hand gravitated toward the screen to stroke the swirls of dark curls on the boy’s head. He knew being responsible called for more than just putting a roof over his head and teaching him how to throw a ball; Diego had to make sure that he had reasons to smile.

  “I’m opening a bank account for him—for you both—tomorrow before the game.” His son would have anything he needed. Diego’s priorities had reshuffled so fast he could hardly process all the things he needed to take care of. “You’re letting me help you out, Jasmine. I’m going to be down there to help you raise him every day that I have off. And I’m sending open-ended plane tickets so you can be here any time you want. I understand if you’re not ready yet. But I’m willing to wait until you see that I’m not going anywhere and I’m not giving up on you or him.”

  “Okay.” Her word was so soft he almost talked right over it.

  “What?” He paused in the middle of zooming in on the baby’s face. “Okay what?”

  “Okay, go ahead and send your chartered flight down here tonight if it really won’t break the bank. I can get tomorrow off from the center. Alex and I will come see you for a few days, and I’ll see for myself how serious you are.”

  He nearly dropped his laptop as he sprang off the bed, instantly alert as if he’d chugged two Red Bulls. “Seriously?”

  “Call me a sucker for the father of my child.” Her voice was a little breathless and he hoped like hell that meant she was excited to see him, too. “But yes. I can’t wait for you to meet him. And we’ll just…see what happens.”

  Happiness exploded in his chest like the fireworks after a grand slam for the home team. His hand was shaking like a rookie’s in his first plate appearance as he reached for his laptop to set the wheels in motion.

  “You won’t regret this.” He would be awake all night making arrangements, but he would ensure everything was perfect for her.

  He just hoped he could put the bat on the ball tomorrow since he wouldn’t get much sleep. But with his son and the woman he loved on their way to see him, he couldn’t find it in his heart to care.

  “I COULD GET USED to this.” Amber chased her slice of wood-fired pizza with a sip of mellow Chianti from her perch against the pillows in the hotel bed. “The wine really goes with the red sauce.”

  Room service had delivered her phone along with the food, providing the perfect dinner in bed to cap off a really incredible night with Heath.

  “Yeah, but what’s with the goat cheese?” Heath eyed his third slice suspiciously, though the wariness didn’t seem to diminish his appetite. “I’m a purist when it comes to pizza.”

  “Must be a west coast thing.” She tipped her head against the smooth, polished headboard and admired the view out the partially opened blinds. Their hotel was taller than most of the nearby buildings, so there was little danger of anyone looking back at them.

  Heath seemed very careful about protecting his privacy from camera lenses, which fit with what she’d learned about him after their very first night together. He would never be the kind of guy who sought the spotlight and that felt reassuring to a woman who occasionally grappled with insecurity.

  “I can’t believe I got you room service for dinner on your first night in Beverly Hills.” He moved the box off the bed and swiped away the crumbs. “You deserved to see more of the city.”

  “Not just room service.” She pointed to the advertisement on the pizza box. “It’s the best pie in town. Besides, if you started to wine and dine me, I’d have major culture shock and might go running back home. Midnight snacks during the late show are right up my alley.”

  She’d been out of her element at the spa today—no doubt that had been one of the reasons she’d followed her nose to the local library on the first excuse she’d found. She hadn’t just been helping out Heath with her research about creating a healthy team psychology. She’d been running to a place of comfort in a world shifted far off-kilter.

  “That’s my world, too, most nights.” He refilled his glass with the dark red wine, but she declined more. If the room started spinning tonight, she wanted it to be because she was seeing stars from the way Heath made her feel, and not because she’d gotten carried away on Chianti.

  “So you said your ex-wife wasn’t interested in traveling with you?” She wanted to know more about the marriage that hadn’t worked out for him. Not because she was nosy but she couldn’t imagine a woman giving up on him so fast. And maybe she secretly wondered if he still had feelings for her. “I’m surprised she didn’t at least try that the next baseball season instead of walking away after just one year.”

  “She said my job shouldn’t be more important than hers, and I could see her point.” He shrugged, his shoulder brushing hers as he slumped back against the headboard with her, gazing out at the city lights and the low rooftops of the buildings nearby.

  A few streets over, she spotted a hotel or maybe a nightclub with a pool on the roof surrounded by palm trees and late-night partiers.

  “But marriage is about compromise.” Or it should be. In her parents’ marriage, her mother had done all the compromising, and it still hadn’t been enough to keep her father faithful.

  “That was her point exactly. She said she’d travel with me for half the year if I’d travel with her for half the year. But since baseball demands more like three quarters of a year, I wasn’t holding up my end.”

  “She must have known that when she met you.”

  “Well, if either of us had been planners or thinkers like you, we would have had that mapped out ahead of time.” He clinked his glass next to hers and took a drink, as if toasting her worst trait—overthinking. “But since she was more like me with that ‘I know what love is when I see it’ kind of attitude, we flew into the unknown without really figuring out how it would all work. And it didn’t.”

  So they gave up?

  As much as the outcome of that story seemed frustrating from a romantic’s standpoint, Amber appreciated the ending, given that his divorce had allowed her to meet him in the first place. Heath Donovan was so different from any other guy she’d ever dated. What had started out as a big risk for her was rewarding her many times over. Pizza and Chianti in bed was only the beginning.

  “What about you? Didn’t you plan for a future with Brent?” He set her empty glass aside along with his and then dragged her down to lie beside him, their heads sharing a pillow.

  He even edged back a little to make sure she had enough room in a gesture that squeezed her heart.

  “I did plan on a future, right down to where we would live and where we could vacation that would be halfway between my mother’s house and his parents’ place so that our families could spend quality time with us every year.” She felt embarrassed thinking about it now—like a high-school girl coloring in her initials next to her boyfriend’s on a notebook. “But you can’t plan to fall in love with someone. And just because you’d like it to happen doesn’t mean it will.”

  Heath was silent for a long moment. Then he leaned closer to brush a kiss along the top of her head.

  “My father always tried to tell me I didn’t plan enough—in life or in baseball. His big motto is See The Whole Field. But I never understood how you could plan for things when you never knew if the next pitch would be a curveball. You can only work with what you’re given, and most of the time, you don’t have any damned control over what that will be.”

  Amber knew he was right, but she hated to think she had so little input on her future.

  “Will your dad come to the game tomorrow?” Idly kissing Heath’s shoulder, she wondered how she’d ever go back home to the isolated nights in her apartment after the days and nights she’d known with him.

  Would she ever get to meet Diego’s girlfriend? Or enjoy being by Heath’s side when his team was on a winning streak and his job was secure?

&nbs
p; “Front and center. As a former L.A. star, he’s able to command the best seats.”

  “Is that weird?” It was a vague question, but she was curious about the family dynamic.

  Even though Heath said he’d forgiven his father for not being a part of his life—for not accepting him until he proved his worth on the baseball field—Amber sensed a strained relationship at best.

  “Maybe. Yes.” He stroked through her hair, twining it around his fingers, back and forth. “It’s tough to be your best in front of someone who only seems to see your shortcomings.”

  “Will I meet him?” She didn’t know if that was pushy. After all, most guys didn’t introduce their girlfriends to their parents unless it was serious.

  But she was stuck to Heath’s side while she was in L.A., so they might run into his dad whether or not Heath meant for it to happen.

  “Probably. If you want to.” He stopped weaving her hair and she peered up at him to see him frowning. “Amber?”

  “Yes?” She tensed, reading some sort of reservation—a guardedness—in his expression.

  “If we lose tomorrow, I’m not sticking around town to meet with the higher-ups and take the ax in person.” The grim set to his mouth told her that he considered this a real possibility. “I don’t want to ruin your vacation, but it will be a PR nightmare for the team and for me, too.”

  “Won’t it be even worse for you in Boston?” She worked for a newspaper. She knew exactly how much interest a change in management for Boston’s baseball team would generate. The guys in the sports department would work around the clock, literally, to exhaust the news value of that story online and in print.

  Too soon, she’d be right back in the thick of that endless pressure herself, a thought she’d stuffed to the furthest recesses of her brain these past few days. It wasn’t healthy to feel so much anxiety about a job—hers, or his, either.

  “I don’t think I’d return to Boston. At least not right away.” His eyes were fixed on some distant, invisible point out the hotel window and she felt a gap a mile wide open up between them. “I couldn’t even go to the beach house on Nantucket. Too many reporters know to look for me there.”

  “So…” She waited for him to spell out what that meant for her. When his brooding look never changed, she thought she’d better pin down some clarification. “You’d like me to return to Boston on my own, then.”

  She hoped that wasn’t what he meant. And yet…he didn’t answer very quickly.

  His gaze flickered back to her, his hand still woven through her hair like a forgotten project.

  “Only if we lose.” Gently, he untangled his fingers. “I hope you know I never expected I’d receive this kind of ultimatum when I asked you to come here with me.”

  She felt a little shell-shocked at the realization that her time with him would be over—for good—if his team lost tomorrow. Intellectually, she knew he had to feel even more adrift than her since he’d put his whole life into baseball and he could lose it in the course of a game. Still, it was clear that Heath didn’t have the sense of attachment to her that she’d developed for him over the past few days.

  Months ago, Brent’s defection and parting jab had made her question everything she thought she knew about love and dating. Sure it had hurt. But now, she understood that Brent had mainly wounded her pride—she hadn’t really loved him.

  Amber might not have realized that at the time. But now she knew for sure. What she’d felt for Brent was a pale facsimile of the emotions she’d experienced with Heath.

  Emotions she would not name—even in the privacy of her own head—to save herself from admitting to a feeling that would only devastate her.

  “Amber?” Heath’s voice prodded her for a response, reminding her that he was waiting for her to relinquish any claim to him this week so he could leave town if the need arose.

  No muss. No fuss.

  “Of course, I understand.” It was the truth, since she was an expert at thinking through things and she could fully appreciate that Heath would have few professional options after tomorrow’s game if he lost his job. “It makes sense to avoid the Aces’ backyard for a while.”

  Her heart burned even more than her eyes as she said what he wanted to hear. Hadn’t she promised herself to date for fun and not get caught up in romanticizing things? But damn it, Heath wasn’t like the other guys she’d dated. She herself wasn’t the same person she’d been the week before. Knowing him had opened up a new side of her that she hadn’t known she possessed.

  Someone bolder and more adventurous. Someone who had a world of knowledge to share.

  Her heart ached at the thought of all she’d lose tomorrow if the Aces lost.

  And if they won?

  She’d only be putting off the inevitable. Los Angeles had been her fairy-tale world where all things were possible. No matter when she returned to Boston, she would be alone once that plane touched the tarmac.

  Heath couldn’t have been any more clear.

  “Right.” He appeared relieved that she understood. “But I’d make sure you got back to Boston, first-class and whenever you want. I can make all the arrangements for you, even if I need to leave right from the ballpark.”

  The pizza that had tasted so good a few minutes ago churned uneasily in her gut. He would really do that? Jet right out of that ball field like a stranger to her and leave her on her own to pack and get to the airport?

  The chill of that potential non-goodbye opened her eyes to what little held them together. Or, rather, what compelled him to stay with her.

  Absolutely nothing beyond the physical.

  A gaping hole opened up in her chest, and it was all she could do not to clutch the spot with both hands.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she reassured him, her mouth on autopilot since her heart was currently six feet under and her brain had shut off in protest. “I can make my own plans to return home if that happens.”

  And damn it, either way now—win or lose—she would make her own travel plans home. Like him, she didn’t want to stick around and wait for the ax to fall. She would help him get through the game tomorrow because—whether he knew it or not—he needed her. She had something to offer and if he was too thick-headed to recognize that, she wasn’t about to chase after him to make him see the obvious.

  Yes, her heart hurt like hell, but she deserved better.

  “No, Amber, it’s my fault you’re here.” He punctuated it with a kiss that failed to reassure her. “I’ll take care of everything and make sure you return home safely. I’m not going to let my career ruin your week, as well.”

  Too late. It already had.

  14

  HEATH WAS OFF HIS GAME today and couldn’t quite figure out why. Nerves, he could understand. But his brain was in some kind of mental fog that he couldn’t shake.

  He’d slid out of bed before dawn to seek coffee in a quiet corner of the hotel. Now he sat at a small table between the gift shop and a croissant cart, sucking down an espresso while trying to sift through the flotsam junking up his head.

  Yes, he could be facing the end of his career. That would rattle anyone. But he also kept thinking about Amber back in the hotel room and how he’d pushed her away prematurely. He’d known the whole idea of not wanting to wreck her vacation had been B.S. Preparing her for the inevitable had felt wrong even though he had damn good reasons. At the start of the night, he’d been so grateful to be with her that he didn’t think about his impending career doom. Then he’d robbed himself of that happiness, convinced he’d screw up with her the same way he’d messed up with the Aces.

  “Heath?” A familiar gravelly voice cut into his thoughts.

  He looked up to find a grizzled old baseball hero peering down at him, still wearing an L.A. Stars jersey twenty-five years after he’d retired from the game.

  “Dad.” Heath used one foot to nudge forward the chair opposite him before he rose to clap his dad on the shoulder in a sorta-hug Heath reserved for him a
lone. “Have a seat.”

  The man frowned as he took off his cap and set it on the table before sliding into the chair.

  “You don’t look surprised to see me.” Mark Donovan still worked out five days a week and maintained his athlete’s build.

  Fans of all ages frequently recognized him, and Heath’s father seemed to like that quite a bit. Mark Donovan hadn’t just been a player. He’d been a sports superstar, crushing fastballs into the third tier of baseball stadiums around the country before a knee injury had finished his playing days.

  Even now, he seemed to expect a ticker tape parade wherever he went and, frankly, Heath wasn’t up for it today.

  “No, I’m not surprised to see you around.” Heath had half expected his father to show up at the hotel yesterday since the Major League Baseball schedule was made public well in advance of the season and Mark knew where the Aces preferred to stay when they came to town. Besides, Mark shared Heath’s habit of waking early to scout out caffeine. “I figured you’d have some words of wisdom before the curtain falls on my managing career.”

  Heath had just hoped he could have received them in a voice mail or a text message.

  Across the table, his father signaled to the woman behind the croissant kiosk and asked for a latte. Heath didn’t bother telling him this wasn’t a sit-down restaurant since the lady hurried over with a tall cup and a wink for him.

  “You don’t really think they’re serious about cutting you loose after less than one season?” At least his father did him the credit of sounding genuinely shocked.

  “I’ve been put on notice that if we lose this road series, I’m out.”

  “Son of a—”

  “Exactly. But right from the start it was apparent that anyone taking over for the legendary Jeff Rally in Boston would be screwed.” Heath had weighed the consequences, knowing the Hall of Fame–bound coach who’d put twenty years into the team would be a tough act to follow. But maybe failure wasn’t something he’d ever really seriously considered.