A Very Daring Christmas (The Tavonesi Series Book 8) (3 page)

But as Jake took in the familiar stadium, his throat tightened. He hadn’t been back to Dominia since his brother’s death. And everything about the place reminded Jake of the brother he’d loved, of the winter they’d played for the Dominian Winter League together. Peter had such big dreams, but it had been Jake who’d been tapped for a spot on the Major League roster. Peter was the good one, the man who’d have the family and make his parents happy, doting grandparents. Peter had been the opposite of Jake. Losing Peter in a boating accident had cut at the heart of the family.

“Memories?” Aderro asked.

Aderro was one of the savviest catchers in the majors. He noticed every nuance of movement both on and off the field. If the Giants were shrewd, they’d buy him back from Boston to back up starting catcher Cody Bond. Between Cody’s and Aderro’s savvy game calls and the hot arms of the Giants’ pitchers, opposing batters would have to scramble to get hits.

Jake dropped his gear bag to the dirt beside the dugout. “Yeah. I thought I was over all that.”

“You never get over all that—grief just shifts into memories. The memories will hurt less over time.”

A ball zinged Jake in the butt.

“You here to show us how to hit,
yanqui
?” Sammy Alonso was a star of the Estrellas. And a brand-new player on the Giants’ Triple-A roster. Give the guy a couple years in the majors, and he’d probably out-hit Jake.

Aderro nodded. “We can head over to the camp this afternoon. For now, why not show this banana boy what a Major Leaguer looks like?”

As Jake took his stance, the memory of watching Peter at the plate rose in his mind. He shut his eyes and hauled in a breath. And then he opened his eyes and grinned at the man throwing batting practice.

“Bring it,” Jake said. And as his bat connected and he watched the ball sail out of the stadium, under his breath he said, “That one’s for you, Peter. That one’s for you.”

Cameron hailed a taxi at her hotel. Sabrina had been right. If she was going to make any headway in Dominia, she needed all the friends she could get. After a day of meetings in frigid hotel conference rooms, all she’d heard from the bureaucrats were reasons they
couldn’t
get the funding for the batey water project. And though they had tried to talk her out of going, she had insisted that she visit the bateyes. She had a suspicion that the photos UNICAN had provided weren’t telling the whole story. Yet if she was going to put her shoulder behind the water project, she wanted the facts. All of them.

She looked at the address for the baseball stadium and directed the driver in Spanish. Emilio Aderro had said he’d meet her there.

They passed a tall statue of a pitcher, catcher and batter. Minutes later they passed a rubble-strewn lot where young boys brought to life their version of the same scene—except a rusty trash can lid served as their home plate.

Sabrina had told her that in Dominia the ballplayers were idolized as heroes, but nothing could have prepared her for the throng of people crowded outside the small stadium. Music blared from speakers, and men and women danced and sang while others purchased snacks from food trucks. It was a party in full swing and not a player in sight. But a shout went up as she exited the taxi, and the crowd surged toward the entrance. Perhaps a player had arrived; she couldn’t see over the mob of fans.

Protective habit had her pulling on her sunglasses, tucking her hair up into the cap she’d bought at the hotel and heading to the entrance the crowd had deserted. A guard listened as she explained her mission and then lifted the cord of the stanchion and let her pass to the gate. A phalanx of guards stood joking among themselves and barely looked up as she entered the hallway that led out to the ball field.

She stopped at the edge of the field. Why she was nervous, she wasn’t sure. A deep sense that the outcome of the next few minutes would determine the future of many lives weighed on her. If she didn’t secure Emilio Aderro’s help, she might fail. The little information she’d seen online had told her that in areas where there was no clean drinking water, babies died of dysentery. Adults too. A country that boasted five-star hotels and booming tourist centers couldn’t find funds for a basic like clean water? It was unthinkable. Aderro could put his clout behind the project and help in ways the bureaucrats couldn’t. A well-respected man like him could get the Dominians to pony up, and now, when it counted.

Still, she felt off balance.

A dream from the night before still haunted her. She hadn’t dreamed about kids or water or baseball—she’d dreamed about a man. A man with a mysterious smile. He’d appeared in a flash and then dissolved. But the dream had left her with a sense of foreboding, the same sense that crept up her spine as she inched onto the field.

The thwack of a bat had her focusing on the man standing at home plate. He laughed and said something to the catcher as he watched the ball sail up over the wall and disappear out of the stadium. But it wasn’t his hit that had her heart skipping a beat. Nor was it the way his muscles rippled as he connected with the next pitch.

It was his smile.

The smile of the man who had appeared in her dream.

Maybe she’d seen him online when she was looking up Aderro. She’d wanted to be sure to be able to identify the catcher since she was going to ask him for help. But she was pretty sure she hadn’t seen the man from her dream—the man standing not forty feet from her—during her quick online scanning or anywhere else. As if orchestrated to make her even more uncomfortable, the men in the field stopped moving to stare at her. She’d known her latest film had been a hit in Latin America, but surely with all her gear on they couldn’t recognize her.

Aderro stepped up beside her.

“If you can have that effect on the opposing team, they might hire you to be a mascot,” he said as he extended his hand. “Emilio Aderro. But everyone calls me Aderro.”

“Except the people who call you clueless,” the catcher said from behind the plate. “Want to move that lovely lady out of range so our boy wonder here can get his rocks off?”

Cameron shook Aderro’s hand and was vaguely aware of introducing herself and thanking him for meeting with her. She kept sliding her gaze to the man poised at home plate.

“That’s Jake Ryder,” Aderro said. “It’s good you’re here today and can meet him. While I’d love to help you with your project, he’s the one with real clout. He’ll be going to the White House with the Giants to meet with the president. Face-to-face time, if you know what I mean. The president always meets with a team after a World Series win. Can’t get any more direct access to someone with deep pockets—and other connections—than that. I’m afraid you won’t get much help from the Dominian government; they’re tapped out. I can’t even get them to fund a ball field for the kids. Your people should’ve told you all this before flying you all the way down here.”

“Yes,” Cameron admitted. “They certainly should have.”

There were way too many things the UNICAN people should’ve told her before she’d stepped on the plane. But she was here. And she was determined to succeed. Maybe that was the significance of Jake Ryder appearing in her dream. Maybe he really could help.

Jake continued to smack ball after ball over the wall. She stopped counting after eight. Clearly Jake was a star—she could tell from the reactions of the men in the field. She could also tell by the way her own body responded. She had a weak spot for excellence. And evidently, from the heat rising up her neck, she also had a weakness for muscles upon muscles moving in powerful precision.

Jake stopped batting and wiped sweat from his face and neck with a towel that said
Estrella
. Star
.
Cameron laughed inwardly. The heavens had a sense of humor. Too bad hers was wearing thin. UNICAN hadn’t prepared her for the challenge she faced, but maybe these guys could help. They were All-Stars. They had connections. She had to try.

Jake pulled his shirt over his head to reveal washboard abs and biceps that made her hormones stand up like a pure-bred pointer and flood her with an unwanted urge to touch him.

She snapped her gaze to Aderro. She was a professional, down here to do a job. She sure didn’t need a foolish affair with a man to mess up her already unraveling plans.

Jake stashed his bat in his gear bag and then stared at the beauty talking with Aderro. He wasn’t alone in staring. It wasn’t often that a heart-stopping siren stood within pitching distance of home plate. Evidently she was a friend of Aderro’s. Some guys had all the luck.

Aderro motioned him over with a subtle signal. “This lovely lady might need some help from you.”

“Always obliged to help a lady in need,” Jake said, hearing himself draw out his natural Southern drawl. Maybe Aderro hadn’t been as lucky with the woman as he’d surmised. Jake would sure love a try at winning her. He’d wager that she’d give him a good run for his three-date rule.

“Jake Ryder,” he said as he removed his batting glove and extended his hand.

“Cameron Kelley.” She gripped his hand in one of those too-firm handshakes meant to mask uncertainty and anxiety. But under the surprise of her anxious handshake stabbed an undeniable shot of heat that speared straight to his groin. Not possible. No woman had an effect like that. But when he let her hand go, he felt the heat sear him again as her fingertips released from his grip.

Her name was familiar. He scanned his mind, trying to place her face, but he couldn’t see her eyes. Lots of women looked alike with big sunglasses and red lipstick. But something about the way Cameron moved was riveting. It reminded him of—
hell
, it reminded him of Scarlett Lee Bains, the homecoming queen who’d jilted him in high school. He’d lost his heart and his virginity to Scarlett Lee only to find out that she’d made a bet with the rich-boy captain of the football team that she could bag him. He’d been the laughingstock of the in-crowd, a crowd he didn’t run with, a group ruthless in its sadistic ways. Well, he hadn’t been bagged since. His trusty three-date rule kept him from ever doing anything so foolish as letting down his guard.

Cameron tossed her hair, and it glinted in the sunlight. Yup, there it was, that movement, that memory. Just like Scarlett Lee. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the thrill of the chase.

“Since you’re here, I’d like to show you my baseball camp,” Aderro said to Cameron.

Jake laughed. “Aderro has no scruples when it comes to getting pockets to open for his kids. Better zip your purse.”

Her casual clothes didn’t fool Jake. Everything about the woman screamed expensive. Cameron could probably sell her fancy-looking handbag and fund one of Aderro’s camps for a month.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’m here to secure funding for the Water for Life project in the bateyes,
not
for baseball,” she said with a beamy smile to Jake. He knew that smile. He was immune to such tactics. He could meet her and up the ante. And she clearly didn’t understand the importance of the game.

“Around these parts, kids see baseball as hope,” Jake told her, wishing his smooth tone hid his irritation better. “A hope for a future where they can provide for themselves and their families.”

Cameron drew her eyebrows together and frowned. “I thought making it in professional sports was like a one in a thousand chance.”

“More like one in a million,” Jake said as he watched her, fascinated. He could almost feel the effort of her mind churning, working to turn the conversation to her advantage.

“But my camps have an education component,” Aderro said, “so kids don’t give up on studying. They get to play and be coached, but they have to keep their grades up.”

Aderro was doing a damn fine job of pitching his program.

“Clean water is a basic need, essential to
health
. The batey project will teach hygiene, fund the building of latrines, teach communities how to protect their water supplies and provide important and needed basics.”

She sounded like she was reciting a brochure. Jake leveled his gaze at her. “Water’s important, I grant you that. But dreams lead. Baseball is all about keeping dreams alive.”