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“Good for you. What’s the East Coast like?”

“Different. It was my year in Kansas City that made me miss California.”

“Kansas City?” His eyebrows shot up. “What were you doing there?”

“I spent one season there as a sideline reporter.”

“Really? I didn’t know that. How was it?”

“Let’s call it baptism by fire.” She let out a nervous laugh, drawing the attention of Marne and Paul, who regarded her with a curious stare. It wasn’t a secret that she’d spent one long difficult season in Kansas City. But there were some aspects of last year that she’d rather forget.

“Uh-oh.” Ben angled his head toward the field. “Busted.”

Britt raised her eyes to find Caleb standing near home plate, waiting his turn at bat. She was relieved at the distance between them because his displeasure was almost palpable. The way he clenched his angular jaw and glared as if he could see right through her made his feelings quite clear.

“I planned on asking all the questions and we ended up talking about me. Well played, Ben. I’m here for a sound check, anyway. It was nice chatting with you.” She stood and wiped her sweaty hand on her skirt.

“Wait.” Ben touched her forearm. “Have dinner with us tonight.”

Britt’s heartbeat stuttered. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Dinner. You, me, Caleb. Tonight.”

“I—I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Caleb looks less than thrilled right now.”

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll straighten him out. I know you have more questions. How does six o’clock sound?”

Britt felt a smile spread across her face. “Sounds great.”

“Give me your number, and I’ll text you the details. Caleb will have to pick the restaurant, I’m clueless around here.”

Britt scrawled her cell and room number on an extra sheet of paper and handed it to Ben. “It was great talking with you. Thanks for the invite.”

“Likewise. See you soon.”

Britt stood up and walked away, tossing Caleb her sweetest smile as she passed behind the backdrop. He scowled and stepped into the batter’s box, wedging his cleats in the dirt next to home plate.

Wait until he heard about their dinner plans. Ben would have to pry him out of his hotel room and drag him to the restaurant kicking and screaming. She resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Oh, how she loved a challenge.

Chapter Four

“I can’t believe this.” Caleb raked a hand through his still-damp hair and glared at Ben across the table. “You invited her to
dinner?
”

“Relax.” Ben looked up from his phone. An impish grin spread across his face. “It’s just dinner.”

Caleb huffed out a breath and drummed his fingers on the white tablecloth. “Right. In case you missed the memo, she’s a reporter.” He should’ve hit the weight room or run extra wind sprints between the foul poles in the outfield—anything to avoid being in close proximity to Britt Bowen.

“Sportscaster, actually.” Ben set his phone down. “I’m sure she’ll be on her best behavior. We’re three Americans, all at the same hotel, savoring the local cuisine. That’s it.”

“Why didn’t you take her out by yourself?” Caleb growled.

Irritation flashed in Ben’s eyes. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m on your side?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A beautiful, intelligent woman wants to get to know you better, and you act like you’d rather have a root canal.”

“I’m not interested.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“If she’s such a catch, why don’t you go after her? You looked like you were having a nice little chat during batting practice.” He’d tried to focus when he stepped onto the field, but he could still see her, perched there next to his brother. Then her laughter—bubbling up like the stream that ran behind his childhood home. It sent a concoction of envy and desire coursing through him. Feelings he wasn’t prepared to deal with. Not at all.

“If you didn’t have your head buried in the sand, you might remember that I’ve been seeing Lisa Rea for almost a year now.”

Caleb looked away. He knew that. Mom had mentioned it on more than one occasion when he’d called, and he’d seen a couple of posts on Facebook. He forced himself to meet his brother’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m a jerk. I know you’re seeing Lisa. Good for you, she’s a sweet girl.”

“You’re right. You are being a jerk.”

Caleb tried to sock him in the shoulder with his fist but Ben leaned out of reach.

“So get your act together,” Ben said. “Here she comes.”

Caleb looked up to find Britt Bowen skirting her way around the crowded tables, her sleeveless white blouse and dark-washed jeans sending his heart into overdrive.

Ben whistled under his breath. “You could be in a little trouble here.”

Caleb was speechless. It wasn’t until Ben kicked him under the table that he remembered his manners and stood up to greet her.

“Hey, you two.” She smiled, oblivious to the appreciative glances she’d garnered from the men seated in the restaurant.

“Britt.” Caleb managed to choke out her name as he pulled out the chair across from his.

“Thank you, Caleb.”

“Hey, Britt. You’re looking lovely this evening,” Ben said.

“Thanks. I feel quite the opposite. This jet lag is killing me.”

Caleb sat down, racking his brain for something intelligent to say. If this was what jet lag looked like, the fully-rested version of Britt might be more than he could handle. Those blue eyes. Not to mention her dazzling smile … He couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence if he wanted to.

“Sorry I’m late.” She scooted her chair a little closer. “Marne called yet another production meeting.”

Before Caleb could answer, the server drifted toward their table, dressed in a white shirt with a black tie and maroon vest. A sharp crease was pressed into the legs of his black trousers. He balanced a tray on his forearm and bowed graciously as he presented them each with a bowl of miso soup.

“Wow. Thank you.” Britt peered into the bowl he set in front of her.

“A drink for you?” The server asked.

Caleb cleared his throat. “Water, please.”

“Not a fan of the Sake yet, bro?” Ben quipped.

Not a chance.
He wanted to have all his faculties about him to get through this meal. “You go ahead.”

While Ben and Britt discussed their beverage options, a handful of players from the Sacramento Senators claimed a table nearby. One in particular, Tyler Jeffries, looked their way, zeroing in on Britt. Tyler’s gaze shifted, shooting Caleb an icy glare. Caleb stared right back, raising his chin
. Back off.

“Yoo-hoo?” Britt waved. “Are you still with us?”

Tyler looked away and Caleb glanced at Britt.

“Britt and I are ordering a glass of wine, since I can’t convince you to go the Sake route. Want some?” Ben asked.

“No, thanks. There’s a Chardonnay on the menu you might want to try. I think it pairs well with the Kyoto-style cuisine they serve here.”

Britt’s eyes widened. “Caleb Scott, I had no idea. Are you a foodie?”

“Where’s your notebook? Shouldn’t you write that down?”

Britt tilted her head to one side. “I probably deserved that. But I’m here to learn more about the Japanese culture from an American’s perspective. You have my word—no intense, personal questions tonight.”

“See? I told you.” Ben shot him a meaningful look.

“No hidden microphones, either.” A smile played at the corner of her pale pink lips.

He offered a half-smile in return. “Good to know.”

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, what’s the protocol on this soup?”

“You drink it. Like this.” Caleb lifted the bowl to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers as he sipped the sweet soup.

A faint blush tinged her cheeks. Caleb’s pulse stuttered.

The server returned with two glasses of wine and a bottle of water. Then he explained in heavily-accented English that tonight’s meal was prepared especially for them, and he would serve it soon.

As he walked away, Britt’s fingers trailed around the rim of her wine glass. “So tell me the best thing you’ve discovered about living in Japan.”

Caleb squirmed in his seat. Couldn’t they talk about her for a change? “Let’s see. Anything I need is within a few blocks of the train stations. It’s amazing. Like Manhattan on steroids.”

“What’s the hardest thing about living here?”

It’s lonely.
“The cultural differences are much bigger than I expected.”

Before he could explain, their server returned with the most impressive selection of sushi Caleb had ever seen.

“Holy smokes,” Ben said. “Is this all for us?”

The server placed three plates in front of them with a flourish. “For you. Enjoy.”

Britt’s expression was unreadable as she surveyed the scene.

“If you don’t like sushi, I can ask them for something else,” Caleb said.

“No. It’s not that. I’m just—blown away. It’s almost too pretty to eat, isn’t it?”

Caleb had to agree. The silver-skinned fish gleamed like crescent moons, pressed against half circles of sticky white rice. On the other side of each plate, forest green kelp concealed what he guessed was another sliver of coral-colored fish and more sticky rice pressed into neat squares.

“They definitely get points for presentation.” Ben moved his plate closer. “This should be interesting.”

“To chopstick or not to chopstick, that is the question,” Caleb said.

Ben groaned. “That was terrible. But I’m game.” He reached for the chopsticks.

“Chopsticks, of course.” Britt examined her plate, like a coach plotting her next play. He watched in utter admiration as she captured a piece of sushi with her chopsticks and popped it into her mouth.

“I think she’s done this before.” Ben fumbled with his chopsticks.

“I’m not even going to try.” Caleb slid a bouquet of plastic forks wrapped in a napkin from his pocket and passed one to his brother.

Ben threw his head back and howled with laughter. “You rock. Thanks, man.”

Britt scowled. “You’re such a cheater.”

Caleb shrugged. “I’m starving. There’s no way chopsticks are going to stand between me and dinner.”

“Do you have a favorite Japanese meal?” Britt asked.

“This probably comes as no surprise, since I grew up on a ranch, but the Kobe beef is phenomenal,” Caleb said.

“Don’t let Dad hear that,” Ben said. “He thinks grass-fed American beef is the only way to go.”

“So ranch life must be pretty intense. When did you have time for baseball?” Britt captured another bite of sushi with her chopsticks.

“Easy there, California,” Caleb said. “It wasn’t that bad. We still made time for fun.”

Britt laughed and Caleb couldn’t help but admire the way her eyes sparkled.

“I’m a total city slicker,” Britt said. “I wouldn’t know what to do on a ranch.”

“That one year in Kansas didn’t turn you into a country girl?” Ben asked.

“Kansas?” Caleb looked from Ben to Britt. “I think I missed something.”

“I spent last season in Kansas City as a sideline reporter. It was rough—I didn’t see much of Kansas, either.”

Her carefree expression faded, like a cloud blocking the sun on an otherwise perfect day.
What happened in Kansas?

“And now, here you are, eating sushi with a rancher and a baseball player in the middle of Tokyo. Can you believe it?” Ben teased.

Britt’s smile returned but Caleb still racked his brain for any details about Kansas City’s performance last season. He’d spent almost every waking hour in physical therapy and avoided watching most games on television. Did she—

“Did you always want to play professional baseball, Caleb?”

Britt’s question drew him back into the conversation. “I love my family and working on the ranch, but the first time I threw a strike, I was hooked.”

“A baseball stadium is a magical place, isn’t it?”

Caleb nodded. “I’ll never forget standing on the mound as a professional player for the first time and trickling that dirt through my fingers. I know it’s just a game on a field, but it felt like hallowed ground.”

“I can totally relate. I grew up going to games and there’s something palpable about standing at the edge of that field,” Britt said. “So how do you feel about playing in a dome?”

“It’s okay. Not quite the same. The fans here are intense. Apparently today was nothing compared to a real game.”

“So I’ve heard,” Britt said. “Do you think it’s crazier than Fenway?”

While they savored the delectable meal and discussed the merits of their favorite American stadiums, the unmistakable flicker of attraction toward Britt took hold. He tried to pretend it wasn’t happening, but every time she smiled or made a keen observation about the game he loved so much, he wanted to hear more.

“Excuse me.” A young Japanese woman hovered at Britt’s elbow, holding what appeared to be a martini. “A drink from the American over there.” The server inclined her head toward the Senators’ table and smiled.

Britt stiffened. The hair on the back of Caleb’s neck stood on end as Tyler Jeffries leered at them from across the room.

“It’s from Jeffries,” Caleb said.

“He’s sure grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary, isn’t he?” Ben folded his arms across his chest.

“I—I don’t want it.” Britt shrank back as if the glass held a contagious virus.

Caleb watched as Tyler’s countenance morphed into a more sinister expression. “He looks … determined.”

“I’m not interested. He knows that.” Her hand shook as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

Caleb looked at the woman who stood, still holding the drink, obviously uncertain as to how to proceed. “No, thank you.”

With a gentle nod, the woman glided away. Caleb didn’t bother to gauge Tyler’s reaction.

“Hey.” Caleb searched Britt’s face. “Are you okay?”

She hesitated. “Tyler and I have a … history. Not one I want to discuss.”

Before Caleb could respond, Tyler crossed the restaurant, kicking over an empty chair. When a server intervened, Tyler shrugged him off, raising his voice as he stumbled toward the door.

Britt’s face blanched.

“It’s all right.” Caleb found her eyes with his own. “He left.”