Curveball (10 page)

Romeo glanced toward the enormous white
washed barn with the bright blue doors. Silver maples framed the corners. Ivy twined over its shaded contours. The sounds of the city and screaming ballpark fans were forgotten in the stillness of the land. He liked the quiet, which would be broken as soon as the children arrived.

“Who showed up?” he asked Sophie.

“Psycho, Chaser, and Chris Collier.”

Romeo spiked a brow. “Collier?”

“Psycho’s none too happy, but he’s promised not to act out in front of the kids.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Who, then, will keep an eye on the lady?” Sophie nodded toward his Viper.

A Viper with its door swung wide. With ZZ Paws still clutched to his chest, Romeo crossed to Emerson’s side. “This is Emerson Kent from the
Virginia Banner.
Emerson, meet Sophie Hart,” he said.

Sophie looked surprised. “You didn’t tell me there’d be press.”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment invitation,” Romeo informed her. Bending slightly, he held ZZ with one hand as he assisted Emerson from his low-slung car with the other.

Sophie took in his solicitous manner, then turned and shot Romeo an amused grin.

He shrugged. “First time for everything.”

Sophie’s grin widened. “Welcome, Emerson.” She gently dislodged a purring ZZ from Romeo’s arms, then passed the cat to Emerson. “Meet ZZ Paws.”

Em held the cat as if the creature were porcelain and breakable. Aside from Sophie, Romeo had never seen anyone handle an animal with so much care. The American curl responded with loud purring and a slow kneading of her paws against Emerson’s right arm.

Emerson looked up and smiled at Romeo.

The urge to kiss her hit him so intensely, he could barely breathe. She owed him a kiss and he didn’t care who saw him take it. Sophie, the animals, or the busload of children pulling into the parking lot.

“Romeo?” Sophie elbowed him hard.

He blinked. Came to his senses. There would be no quick kiss. When he claimed Emerson, the kiss would be special. In private. And dragged out until their lips went numb.

“What?” He turned to Sophie.

Her eyes laughed at him, as if she found him incredibly amusing. There was nothing funny about his situation. All he’d done was stare at Emerson. The woman’s smile tied his insides in knots.

“Help me prepare the animals for their performances,” Sophie requested. “It’s time to get them into their costumes.”

Romeo motioned Em to join them. “Behind-the-scenes action. Good notes for your article.”

They crossed the yard and entered the barn through a set of sliding glass doors. The animals followed at their own pace. Sophie’s home was airy and splashed with sunlight. The animals’
nails and hooves clicked on the blond hardwood floors. A big-screen television was positioned on one wall. An enormous ballroom mirror, the kind found in ballet studios, hung near a ramp slanted toward the loft where Sophie slept.

Three wooden tables bordered the kitchen. All of different heights. Bowls of kibble were scattered around the floor. Buckets of water stood damp at their bases. Testimony that slurping was allowed.

Animals were as welcome in Sophie’s home as any man or woman. The barn was set up to accommodate their needs as well as her own.

Romeo watched as Emerson nuzzled ZZ Paws, then slowly released her. Turning slightly, she touched his arm. Her eyes were wide and bright, her expression appreciative. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Her touch to his forearm shot straight to his groin. Inappropriate and unwanted images sprang into his mind. Images of her nails raking his back and her hand working him to hardness. Images that taunted his body and had him shifting his stance. Clearing his throat, he managed, “The sanctuary’s a great place to spend your day off.”

Before he could add anything further, Psycho came through the main door. Dressed all in black, including his baseball cap, he informed them, “The kids have filled the bleachers.”

“They’ve started to chant ‘Sky Dog,’” Chaser added from the doorway.

“Where’s Chris Collier?” Sophie asked Psycho.

Psycho shrugged. “Around.”

“
Where
around?” Sophie pressed.

“Wimbledon’s keeping company with Hogan.”

Sophie shot Psycho an exasperated look. “I left
you
in charge of the African gray.”

“Life craps enough on me,” Psycho returned, unrepentant. “I don’t need a bird on my shoulder.”

Worry scored Sophie’s brow. “Hogan gets nervous around people he doesn’t know well. His bill is as sharp as a can opener. If he’s not properly positioned, he could take off a lip—”

“If told to kiss,” Psycho said innocently.

“You didn’t?” Sophie glared at Psycho.

“He did.” Chris Collier joined them in the barn. Hogan was now perched on his right wrist. The parrot’s feathers were as ruffled as Collier’s expression. One corner of the man’s mouth dripped blood onto his starched white dress shirt.

“Hogan,
fly,
” Sophie commanded. The parrot flew across the barn and landed on her shoulder. There, he flapped his wings and shrieked. “Kiss, Wim-ble, kiss Wim-ble-don.” The bird hiccupped on the third syllable. Hogan mimicked Psycho’s voice so perfectly, everyone knew who had encouraged the bird to take off Collier’s lip.

“Tattletale,” Psycho muttered.

Sophie stroked Hogan’s gray back. White patches surrounded his eyes. Red tail feathers gave him color. “African grays are smart and vocal,” Sophie told Chris. “Hogan has a two-hundred-fifty-word vocabulary. On top of that, he’s a mimic.”

Romeo glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes until showtime, Sophie. You doctor Chris’s lip and the rest of us will get the animals into costume.”

Sophie scanned the barn. “Sky Dog and ZZ are dressed to perform. That leaves Fancy, Tobias, and Gigolo.”

“We’ve got it covered,” Romeo assured her.

Sophie blew him a kiss of gratitude.

“What can I do?” Emerson was first to ask.

“You’re here to observe. There’s no need for you to participate,” Romeo returned.

“I’ll make this a hands-on article.”

Romeo took over the group. “Chaser can dress Tobias, the miniature packhorse from the
Gold Rush
miniseries on CBS. Tobias needs saddlebags and that white cowboy hat with the holes cut for his ears.”

Chaser nodded, then went to retrieve Tobias’s costume from hooks by the door. “Off to the horse pen,” he shot back over his shoulder.

“I’ll deal with Gigolo, the spider monkey who played Pat Morrison’s sidekick in
Palm Beach Streets,”
Romeo continued. “Gigolo sometimes fights getting into his tux.”

“That leaves Fancy,” Emerson noted.

“You and Psycho can tackle her together.”

“Hello, Reporter,” Romeo heard Psycho say as Emerson crossed to where he now stood.

“Hello, Benchwarmer.”

Romeo watched as one of his best buddies and the woman he wanted to bed made eye contact
until Psycho nodded and accepted her participation. “We’re stuck dressing Fannie.”

“
Fancy,
” Em corrected.

“The pig gets my humor. I grate on Sophie’s nerves.”

Emerson Kent knew Psycho could be a royal pain in the ass. He was dark and dangerous and disrespectful. She found him more amusing than annoying.

A glance toward Romeo fitting the spider monkey in a tux drew her smile. The monkey squirmed and chattered, and withdrew his arms before Romeo could fasten the tiny front buttons on his little black jacket.

Romeo was a patient man. His tone was soothing as he gentled the monkey into his costume. Once dressed, Gigolo showed off with a series of back flips. Which Romeo applauded.

Heartwarming, Emerson thought. Catching the Rogues out of their element was well worth the trip.

The men were more than bat-swinging superstars. They cared about life outside the ballpark. Even Psycho couldn’t hide his affection for the big pink pig.

“I could use a little help here,” Psycho said.

He and Fancy now stood before the ballroom mirror. The pig’s snout was pressed to the glass as she appeared to admire herself. “Take one end of the petticoat and wrap it under her belly,” Psycho instructed. Em did as she was told.

“Fancy’s put on a few pounds,” Psycho grunted
as he struggled with the top snap. As if irritated by his weight-gain comment, the pig shifted sideways, nearly knocking him over. “I can’t help it if the petticoat makes your butt look big.”

“Sanctuary rules, Psycho,” Sophie called from the kitchen, where she was working on Chris Collier’s lip.

Psycho rolled his eyes and recited, “Never shout, curse, belittle, or harm any of the animals.” He then lowered his voice for Em’s ears alone. “You should see how pissed Sophie gets when I ask the price of bacon.”

Emerson couldn’t contain her laughter. Psycho was sinfully bad, his humor out of control, yet she found she liked him.

“You get me.” One corner of his lip curled in a half smile. He then nodded toward Romeo. “Smile and wave at the man so he doesn’t think I’m rack-jacking.”

Emerson turned to find Romeo staring at her. His slitted gaze shifted from her to Psycho. “Trying to steal my reporter?” he asked his teammate.

“If I was?”

“I’d have to hurt you.”

“I’m not into pain today.”

Romeo’s face relaxed. “Put on Fancy’s squaredancing skirt and she can lead the parade.”

It took all Emerson’s strength and a little help from Psycho to tug the red custom-made skirt over the yellow crinoline.

“Cut back on the sweet corn,” Psycho whispered in the pig’s ear, “and I’ll buy you a boar.”

“Animals aren’t brought here to breed.” Sophie had overheard Psycho’s comment.

Psycho patted Fancy’s head. “We’ll work her down.”

Sophie shot Psycho a my-word-is-law look. “Are we ready?” she asked.

He looked down at Fancy. “Ready to rock ‘n,’ roll?”

“It’s barn dancing,” Sophie reminded him. “Don’t confuse her.” The trainer crossed to her pig. “She looks pretty.”

“A real silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

“
Psycho!”
Her tone threatened bodily harm.

Psycho moved beyond her reach. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Emerson watched as Sophie and Fancy led the parade. Chaser came next with Tobias, the miniature horse. Psycho trotted beside Sky Dog. Romeo followed with the acrobatic Gigolo. Chris Collier, sporting a fat lip, had taken Hogan back on his shoulder. In Em’s eyes, the man was a team player.

When she heard an insistent meow, Emerson scooped up ZZ Paws. They got in line behind Collier.

The children sat on bleachers beneath an enormous tent, bags of popcorn and soft drinks in hand. They ranged in age from three to thirteen. Many of the cancer survivors were bald, pale, and weak. Yet all had indomitable spirit. Their excitement topped that of the crowds at any ballpark.

The animals’ performances did not disappoint.
Each one showed off as if being filmed for primetime television or for the silver screen.

Hogan’s
dive bombing
left everyone breathless as the African gray spread his wings and took flight. He swept skyward, steadily climbing, then suddenly spiraled back to earth, his wings flat against his body, a streak of gray and red tail feathers.

With split-second timing, the parrot leveled out and made a smooth landing on Sophie’s outstretched arm. Hogan earned a standing ovation.

When it came time for Fancy’s barn dance, Emerson stood to the side and watched Sophie select two children from the audience, a boy and a girl. She then asked for one of the Rogues to volunteer as well.

Sophie’s gaze lit on Psycho, but he shook his head. “I’ve two left feet.”

Before Sophie could call on Chaser, Romeo stepped forward. “It’s my day to dance.”

Fancy squealed as loudly as the crowd. The pink pig in the yellow ruffled petticoat and red overskirt was as taken by the third baseman as Emerson herself.

Forming a square, Sophie showed the children the steps. Romeo was opposite a little girl with peach fuzz hair. The young boy partnered with Fancy.

Inserting a tape into a recorder, Sophie called the steps to the tune of “Turkey in the Straw.” She slowed down the call so the kids could keep up. The audience clapped throughout the do-si-dos and allemande lefts.

Once the music ended, Romeo stepped aside, insisting the children take a bow alongside Fancy. Emotion hit Emerson so hard, her breath stuck in her lungs.

Warmth and kindness radiated from this man with the reputation of bringing women to orgasm with just a look. While Psycho, Chaser, and Chris Collier gently threw Frisbees for Sky Dog to retrieve, Romeo worked the bleachers, his smile steady as he shook hands and hugged every child in attendance.

Every visitor left the sanctuary with a heart full of memories. Beyond the memories, Emerson took away a new respect for Romeo Bellisaro. He might be sexy on the outside, but he also had a giving, caring spirit. A man to be admired.

When the bus pulled out, Emerson looked at Sophie, “What’s next? Removing costumes? Cleanup?”

“There’s no reason for you to stay,” Sophie said. “Chris has offered to help with the animals, so go enjoy the rest of your day.”

Emerson noted that the Bat Pack stood their ground. “We don’t mind helping,” Psycho said. “We back the sanctuary—”

“As does Chris.” A hint of color pinkened Sophie’s cheeks. “He made a generous donation when he arrived.”

Psycho pulled out his wallet. “I’ll double his donation—”

“Knock it off, Psycho. This isn’t a contest.” Sophie stopped him from shelling out cash. “The
three of you are major contributors, but smaller donations support the sanctuary as well.”

The softening of Sophie’s expression when Chris approached told of her interest in the pitcher. The attraction appeared mutual. Chris’s gaze remained on the trainer even when Psycho moaned, “Ah, hell, Sophie, not Wimbledon.”

Romeo proved more sympathetic. “I’m gone. Catch you in two weeks, Sophie. Larger crowd next time. We’ll need three buses for the kids coming from foster care.”

Sophie waved them off.

“No speeding tickets.” Romeo’s shouted reminder was lost on Psycho. The wild man gunned the engine of his Dodge Ram as he peeled out.