Playing Catch: A Baseball Romance Page 7

  Brock? Not so much.

  Kirk had never known his former teammate to be so distracted. It had to be the baby keeping him up all night, and a wife who made him get up for night feedings or diaper changes.

  No wonder his father took off whenever there was a baby in the house. Of course, he ended up fathering babies in two families—and married to two different women in two different states.

  Kirk kept his mind on baseball while at the clubhouse, but as soon as he had a chance, he rushed back to his apartment to fetch the package FedEx had left.

  This entire love letter situation seemed like a practical joke. He’d called his mother to ask for an explanation, but she hadn’t picked up or returned his text messages.

  The fact that these letters had to do with Jeanine had his juices flowing. He flipped the large box into the air and caught it, then stepped into his apartment with a bounce in his step.

  Women were distractions if they were clingy and needy. But a woman like Jeanine, a knock-out beauty who could resist his charms, in addition to the mystery before him—that was a curiosity worth figuring out. Much more fun than cruising a bar and hooking up for the night.

  He unlocked his door and scooted inside as if he had a treasure in his hands. He opened the box only to find a large sealed Tyvek envelope inside marked “Private.”

  It was addressed simply to “Jeanine.” No last name. His mother had tacked on a note: Kirk, See that she gets what she deserves. No peeking. Love, Mom

  “And I’m supposed to hand this to her with a straight face so she gets what she deserves?” Kirk cupped a hand on the side of his mouth and spoke to the airwaves, knowing no one was listening. “If this is a game to get me married off, it isn’t working. And why in tarnation would you pick Jeanine Jewell?”

  Kirk shook the envelope. It did seem to contain several bundles of letters inside. He picked at the seal, but the adhesive was too sticky and wouldn’t tear off cleanly. Jeanine would know if he opened it.

  Resisting temptation, Kirk opened the coat closet and flung the envelope inside. He pulled his phone from his pocket and called his brother who picked up on the first ring.

  “I got the love letters. What am I supposed to do? Give it to her? Why didn’t Mom FedEx it to her place? I’m sure the private investigator knows where she lives.”

  “Beats me. I’m just trading favors here.”

  “Did she tell you who the letters are from? How would they have been left at her house? Were these letters ever mailed?”

  “I don’t have any details,” his brother said. “I’ll tell Mom you got the letters.”

  “And? What if I throw them away?”

  “You won’t.” Matt laughed drily. “Maybe Mom wants to give you an excuse to go on a date with her. After all, the other Mrs. Kennedy has two grandchildren already.”

  “There’s always you,” Kirk said. “You could try a surrogate or adopt.”

  Matt was as gay as Kirk was straight, and he was always asking Kirk to introduce him to certain ballplayers.

  “Keep an eye out on the talent for me, and I’ll try to figure out what Mom’s really up to,” Matt said, adding his own tit-for-tat.

  “No good. That’s for sure. I’m betting the guy who wrote the letters dumped Mom for Jeanine. Do you think he’s a ballplayer?”

  “Maybe one of the older ones, sure. Anything’s possible.”

  “Or maybe this guy is dead and Mom wants Jeanine to feel the loss, only she doesn’t care.”

  “You might be onto something,” Matt agreed. “Else, why bother sending her the letters. I’m sure Mom read them.”

  “Yes, and she sealed it in a Tyvek envelope and wrote ‘Private’ on it.”

  “What’s stopping you from opening it, then resealing them in another Tyvek envelope and writing ‘Private’ on it?”

  “Oh, you’re evil.”

  “I’m wicked.” His brother chuckled. “Have fun.”

  Kirk hung up and took the envelope out of the closet. Shaking it like it was a Christmas present, he went to the kitchen and sliced it with a knife.

  Was he being a douchebag? Of course he was.

  But all was fair in love and war, except this was neither love nor war. He was plain bored, and Jeanine was the most interesting creature he’d met this side of the Mississippi River.

  Chapter Ten

  Wednesday evening couldn’t come fast enough for Jeanine. It was exactly one week since she’d had a man in her bed—one week after that walk of shame where she’d met her nemesis, Kirk Kennedy, the golden shadow who insisted on spending his evenings at her bar, chatting with the other ballplayers, but never leaving with any of the women who tried their hand with him.

  It had gotten to the point that his teammates had started a betting pool on when Kirk would leave with a hot woman. Unbelievable. The man was a favorite with New York fashion models and worth millions, not to mention his family wealth. He couldn’t possibly be saving himself for her, could he?

  Jeanine shook the delicious thought from her mind, despite how it made her tingle. Nope, he had more ulterior motives. She’d set herself up as a challenge, and men like Kirk could never pass by a challenge. He’d have her on his terms.

  Sure, he wanted between her legs. No doubt about it. Coming from her background, she had a sixth sense when it came to men telegraphing their lusts. Every man, except for the gay ones, sized her up and wondered how she’d be in bed.

  It came with the territory of being labeled pretty or fitting into culture’s image of beauty. It also came with a terrible burden. Pretty girls got in trouble early on. Pretty girls never lacked for male attention—and face it, ninety-nine percent of male attention was bad.

  If Kirk “Cocky” Kennedy thought he’d win her over and turn her into a panting puppy dog with hearts in her eyes, he was in for a huge awakening. She could play him and not feel a thing. She wasn’t looking for love, money, fame, or any of the usual feminine desires. She had one big thing over him. He cared whether she’d get rid of him or not. She couldn’t care less if he walked away and never looked back. That was power.

  Yeah, right. So why was she still quivering and frustrated at the almost orgasm he’d teased her with? The douchebag was more into power tripping than she was, but he wasn’t going to win this one. Not if she could help it.

  Jeanine glanced at the clock over the bar and walked over to where Tina was pulling the beer taps. “Marcia’s doing paperwork in the office tonight, in case you need her. Wednesday nights are usually quiet being midweek. Think you can handle it?”

  “No problem at all. You go have some fun.” Tina winked. “I know you haven’t gotten laid ever since I showed up.”

  “Don’t let that bother you. I’m off to Vegas for the evening. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Go, go. Get out of here.” Tina waved her away. It was a slow night and the bar was half empty.

  Before leaving, Jeanine stopped in the tiny office she shared with her business partner.

  Marcia sat on the couch staring at the wall. Everything about her drooped. Her hair was flat and greasy over her forehead, and bags sagged under her eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” Marcia looked up and rubbed both sides of her face with her palms. “Isn’t it your night off?”

  “Are you okay?” Jeanine hurried to the couch and placed a hand on her friend’s slumping shoulders. “You look tired. How much sleep have you been getting?”

  “Not enough. I can’t sleep when the baby’s sleeping.”

  “Why? Aren’t you dog tired?”

  Marcia yawned and nodded slowly. “Exhausted, but whenever I’m home, I feel like I have to watch over him—make sure he’s okay. But when I’m here, it’s like he doesn’t exist. And then I feel guilty about getting away and leaving Junior for Pappy to take care of.”

  “You should go home then. I’ll stick around.” Jeanine rubbed her friend’s back.

  “I can’t do that to you. You haven’t had a day off
since Sunday and then you spent it with Bianca and Pappy.”

  “You’re falling apart. Look at you.” Jeanine didn’t want to point out how unkempt her friend was. She looked like she’d slept in her clothes, and her hair was stringy and tangled. “Why isn’t Brock helping? Just because Pappy’s home all the time doesn’t mean Brock should be getting a pass on all this baby work.”

  “He does help. As much as he can.” Tears leaked from Marcia’s eyes and she closed them. “But you know how it is with spring training. Everyone’s on evaluation, even the starting players from last season. Brock’s been screwing up. His concentration’s shot. I feel guilty for the baby keeping him awake.”

  “You shouldn’t. He’s the father: he should pull his share of the weight.”

  “He does. We both agreed that Pappy shouldn’t be the one getting up at night, so we take turns.” Marcia swiped at her tears “He’s home with the baby right now. He wanted me to get my work done.”

  “Let me stay. I’ll get it done.” Jeanine grabbed a box of tissues and gave one to Marcia. “You’re tired, exhausted, and you need a break.”

  “The work can wait until you get back.” Marcia blew her nose and heaved her shoulders. “Really, you should go. I’ll feel even more guilty if you don’t get your night off.”

  “Then promise me you’ll go home right now. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. All of this can wait.”

  “Are you the boss or am I?” The corner of Marcia’s lip raised in a halfway smile. “Now, get going. Besides, Kirk’s waiting for you, and he’s been talking up this trip all week.”

  “He has?” Now she really wanted to cancel. “What did he say we were up to?”

  “Not much. He insists you two are just friends, and that you have some kind of bet going on with him. Far be it from me to guess what you’re up to.” Marcia shook her head and yawned.

  “I’m off to get laid, and not with Kirk,” Jeanine said. “A night in Vegas is an exciting change of pace. Kirk’s tagging along, because he feels the same way.”

  “Well, be careful.” Marcia picked up her purse and extracted her car keys. “Kirk’s a real heartbreaker, so don’t set your sights for him. Brock says he’s a real sweet talker before he gets the goods, but once he’s gotten his rocks off, he’s gone like a flash in the pan.”

  “I already know.” Jeanine’s stomach soured. “The first night I met him, he was doing his walk of shame.”

  “While you were doing yours.” Marcia mustered up a chuckle. “Don’t you think that means something?”

  Jeanine swallowed hard and pursed her lips. “Only means neither of us can be trusted to love and cherish until the day we die.”

  After leaving the office, Jeanine called Marcia’s house.

  Pappy picked up the phone. After a bit of small talk, she asked to speak to Brock.

  “He’s not here right now,” Pappy said. “He stepped out.”

  “Oh? When will he be back?”

  “I don’t rightly know, but if it’s important, you can call his cell phone. You have his number, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I do. Thanks.” Jeanine said goodbye and hung up.

  Brock was up to no good, but Pappy was obviously in the dark, being Marcia’s father.

  “I bet that no good Kirk knows what’s up,” she muttered to herself as she marched to her car. They had a flight to catch, and while Phoenix to Vegas was only a short hop, she’d have Kirk’s complete attention at least until she snagged a hot man for the evening.

  * * *

  Kirk’s eyes lit as he spotted Jeanine approach the Sky Harbor International Airport gate. She was wearing a pantsuit that made her long legs even longer. Chic, gorgeous, and well-attired, Jeanine could give any of his New York fashion models a run on the runway.

  Even though she was late, she sauntered toward the gate as if the world awaited her and every man would step aside to let her pass.

  The letters had been a big disappointment. Childish, written badly, full of fluff and sentiment. What kind of man thought like that? He wouldn’t be surprised if his mother had dictated the letters to some ex-con who’d scribbled them with his messy and heavy handwriting.

  Dear Jeanine, I can’t stop thinking about you and how great you look when you smile. I cannot stand it when we’re apart, because all I can do is daydream about you, how you laugh, how your hair bounces when you walk, how your lips curl when you’re teasing me, and how happy I am when you’re with me. I pull out your picture all the time and wish I can be with you. You’re my lucky charm and really special. I’m so glad we love each other, because what we have is really special. Yours, [drawing of a heart]

  Kirk snorted, thinking of how devious his mother was to have sent him the purported love letters. He wouldn’t put it past her to have sent a private eye to track his business, but the likely story was that the private investigator saw him with Jeanine, took a few pictures, and his mother decided she was both glamorous and wealthy enough to be the mother of her grandkids.

  Jeanine walked by him as if she didn’t know him. She flashed her cell phone at the boarding agent and strolled down the Jetway to her assigned seat.

  Okay, so she was playing hard to get, except they were sitting next to each other. When she’d asked him to book the tickets, he’d made sure of that.

  Kirk casually flashed the boarding pass on his cell phone to the gate agent and followed her, with several travelers in between them, to the awaiting jet.

  Minutes later, he claimed his seat in first class. “I believe I have the aisle seat.”

  She merely smiled and moved herself from the plush aisle seat to the window. First class meant the two of them would be alone in their row.

  “So,” Kirk said after he sat down. “I have an hour to figure out how to be your wingman. We should work out signals.”

  “We only need one signal.” Jeanine flipped him the bird. “And that means ‘get lost.’”

  “Actually, I’m serious about helping you find the guy of your dreams.” Kirk wrapped his fingers around her middle finger and stroked it. “So, tell me what’s your type. Tall, dark, handsome? Gangster chic? Blue collar hunk? Celebrity or billionaire?”

  “After you tell me your type.” She curled her upper lip at him. “I figure, if you’re going to be my wingman, I ought to be your wingwoman. Help you get laid.”

  “I don’t need any help getting laid, and I prowl alone. No wingman needed.”

  “I bet you’ve been wingman to your buddies.” She changed tack and glanced at him sideways. “You know, Brock Carter, didn’t you two used to be buddies in the minor leagues?”

  He closed her middle finger back into her fist. “Rule number one for wingmen and wingwomen, don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  “Fair enough.” She flashed him an insincere smile. “How do you propose helping me pick up the guy I want?”

  “Simple, I zero in on the girl he’s talking to, and you move in for the kill.”

  “We’re taking people away from others?”

  “Exactly. The more desirable people always have others interested in them. No wallflowers for me. You’ll see, having me around will attract all the best, most confident men.”

  “Then I should have the same effect for you.” Jeanine quirked an eyebrow. “Thanks for paying for the tickets.”

  “No prob. How many are you bagging tonight?”

  “One’s enough for me.”

  “I somehow doubt that.” He tilted his head and rubbed his chin. “You women are capable of multiple orgasms. How is it that you’d only be satisfied with one a night?”

  Her eyes narrowed for a split second before she averted her gaze. “You assume too much, Mr. Kennedy.”

  “Ah, so you’ve had some duds.” He put his other hand over the one he was holding. “Is that why you never give them a second chance?”

  “No one deserves a second chance. You know that, Kirk. Not even you.”

  “Why? Did someone break your heart? You must ha
ve fallen for a guy once. Someone who felt you were special—his lucky charm. Tell me the truth, Jeanine. Who was your first love?”

  “Who was yours?” Her eyes turned to stone. “Or do you have no heart to break?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jeanine tried to slow her breathing, but her chest was constricted and she felt lightheaded. Why was Kirk so fucking nosy? This entire trip was going to be a disaster. He seemed to have already forgotten his skillful finger work, acting as if she and he were mere friends, but her body reacted to his presence as if she was flambé to his steak. The airplane hadn’t even taxied to the runway and she was already hot, shaky, and stirred up.

  Not to mention those words: lucky charm.

  Why would he ask her something so personal?

  Kirk let her last question hang and rubbed her hand. “Always so bristly, or prickly. Don’t you ever relax and let things be? You don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m trying to get to know you so I can help you find your night of pleasure.”

  As if he were so charitable.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t hang around when we get to Vegas. I don’t know what I was thinking suggesting this trip.”

  He continued to rub her hand, sending all kinds of disturbing sensations zipping through her body. Instead of reacting to her brushoff, he only stared at her with those sexy, panty-melting eyes.

  “Why are you staring at me?” Jeanine faltered, casting her gaze around for the flight attendants. Maybe it was time to take off. They didn’t do safety demonstrations anymore in person, but instead activated the onboard video monitors. Anything for a distraction from those eyes that seemed to draw her in and expose her, making her feel naked and vulnerable.

  “You’re a curiosity.” He finally let her hand go. “I’m betting you haven’t found a guy worth a second night.”

  “It’s a lot more complicated than that.” Jeanine checked her lap belt and picked through the seat back holder for the inflight magazine.

  “That makes me even more interested.” Kirk stretched his arms up and spread his leg into her space.