Curveball (18 page)

Em was both woman and baseball to him. He’d
felt a real loss when she’d stopped traveling with the team. Now it seemed she’d stepped out of his life and into someone else’s. She was decked out in a little black cocktail dress with gold link straps that left her shoulders bare. She looked damn hot.

Beside him, Psycho nodded left. “Afton Patterson’s got her eye on you. She sure came on strong in Boston. Heard you had to call security. She’s one scary bitch.”

“The woman can’t comprehend ‘not interested.’”

“You’re off the market. That makes women nuts.”

Romeo cut Psycho a look. “Who says I’m off the market?”

“Anyone watching you watch Emerson Kent.”

Heat circled Romeo’s collar. “That obvious?”

“You’re a goner, dude.” Psycho finished off his scotch. “I’m out of here. Two-drink limit and I’ve had three. Guy would fine me for a fourth.”

Romeo glanced at his watch. “We’ve been here less than an hour. Powers requested ninety minutes.”

“Guy introduced me to a high school senior who plans to steal my position when he graduates from college. Kid’s a kiss-ass.”

“You’re unmanageable.” Romeo set his glass on the bar. “I’m good to go.”

“Not just yet.” Psycho pointed toward Emerson. “The lady’s on the move. Looks like she’s headed to the restroom. On my way out, I’ll distract Sloan while you sneak up behind her.”

“What makes you think I need to sneak?”

“The shocked look on her face when she saw you. She won’t meet you head on.”

Psycho was right. Romeo read her as a bundle of nerves.

He waited until Psycho shook hands with Jon Sloan before he took off down the hallway toward the ladies’ restroom. He stood outside the door and collected his thoughts.

He’d never gone after a woman the way he had Emerson Kent. He might never do so again. He was out of his mind to want a woman who didn’t want him back.

Within minutes, she swung through the door, almost colliding with him. She nearly jumped out of her skin. Her breathing stopped and her hand flattened over her heart.

He’d surprised her, all right.

Panic crossed her face, then a split second of pain. He’d expected her nervousness, but not the hurt. Something was off. Way off.

“Having a good time?” he casually asked.

“I was, until I saw you.”

She wasn’t her usual self. “I won’t keep you long.”

“You’ve no right to keep me at all.”

She looked as though she might scream or knee him in the groin. “You broke our date to go out with another man? Why, Emerson?”

She took a moment to answer. “Jon and I have a lot in common.”

“So do we. We share America’s favorite pastime.”

“Baseball season is almost over.” Her words cut
him. “The Rogues are holding their own. You don’t need my column to take you to the playoffs. Another reporter has been assigned to the team.”

His lip curled. “So you can do football and Sloan?”

“Crude, Romeo. I expected more from you.”

More
what
? Manners? Indulgence? Wasn’t going to happen. He leaned in, and she backed against the wall. Her rejection made him crazy. Not Psycho crazy, but borderline nuts nonetheless.

“The Rogues will take our division, then go on to the World Series,” he predicted. “When we win, Em, I don’t give a damn who you’re dating. I’m coming to collect on our bet.”

He left her in the hallway, her eyes wide, lips parted. Motioning to Psycho, he hit the door. The two men walked out together. Romeo refused to look back.

Emerson Kent couldn’t catch her breath. She felt miserable, crushed. Totally devastated. She hadn’t planned on talking to Romeo at the Athletic Club event. When she’d found him waiting for her outside the restroom, her heart had slammed so wildly she’d felt faint.

Suddenly tired, Emerson closed her eyes. She wanted to lie down and sleep. For a solid week. Maybe a month. Maybe until next baseball season.

“Emerson, you sick?” Jon Sloan found her leaning against the hallway wall. “You’re pale. Trembling. What can I do?”

After her brush with Romeo, she’d needed the support of the wall to hold her up. She forced a
smile. “Take me home please. I’ve been working a lot of hours. I’m asleep on my feet,” she lied.

Jon tucked her under his arm, lent her his support. “Happy to oblige.”

The quarterback saw her safely home, then departed. Emerson entered her condo and stopped dead in the darkened foyer. A light flickered from the sunken living room. A light she hadn’t left on before she’d gone out for the evening.

She picked up an umbrella from a stand near the door. Quietly, she pulled her cell phone from her purse, started to dial—

“I’m not a burglar, Em.”

Romeo.
She dropped the umbrella, moved toward the steps. She licked her lips. “Who let you in?”

“Psycho. The man has skills. Picking locks is just one of many.”

What was he doing on her couch? All sprawled out and looking at home. He’d removed his charcoal suit jacket, loosened his silk tie. The top two buttons of his dress shirt were now open.

A copy of the week-old
Banner
was spread out on the coffee table. The newspaper that included the photographs of him with Afton Patterson.

The copy where she’d drawn devil horns and a goatee on Romeo’s face. And blackened Afton’s teeth.

She wanted to die. “Breaking and entering is a crime,” was all she could manage.

“Arrests require fingerprints. Psycho works clean. Police couldn’t raise a print.”

Her heart felt squeezed by a fist. “Why are you here?”

He rattled the newspaper. “To tell you I look better in a mustache than a goatee.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I was being childish. I shouldn’t have marked up your picture.”

“Childish…or jealous?”

Definitely jealous. “Afton Patterson wants you.”

“So do a lot of other women.” His words held a straightforward honesty she had to respect. “Doesn’t mean I want them back.”

“Afton was in Boston.”

“Uninvited in Boston,” he stated. “She came on to me, was so persistent I paid hotel security to stand outside my door. The lady had a passkey.”

“You didn’t sleep with her?”

“I haven’t slept with another woman since I met you.”

It took several seconds for his words to sink in. During those seconds, he ran his hand through his hair, then looked her straight in the eye. “Psycho had the wild notion we weren’t done talking. That more needed to be said.”

“How much more?”

“Enough so that if I walk away, I walk away clean, with no regrets.”

She’d regret his leaving. “You scare me, Romeo. When I’m with you, I lose me.”

He pushed himself off the sofa. Stood tall. “I never wanted you lost, Em, only to find me.”

Her breath hitched. Even with his blond hair mussed and his shirttail wrinkled, the man was hypnotically gorgeous. “I wish you weren’t so good-looking.”
And so damn hard to resist.

“You’re the first one to complain.”

“You make my stomach go soft.”

“You make me go hard.”

“You’re very physical.”

“You’re mental, Em. You think too much.”

She bit down on her bottom lip and opened her heart. “I do like you.”

“Then relax and let us happen.” He moved to the bottom stair. Six steps separated them. “Meet me halfway, Emerson Kent.” He took one step up.

She was too emotional to move. If she walked into his arms, she wasn’t sure if her heart would burst with happiness or tears.

“I’ve had women after me all my life. I’ve never committed to anyone. Not until you.” He took a second step. “Halfway, Em.” He paused, hesitant. “Unless there’s someone else?”

That set her feet in motion. “No one else.”

Romeo blew out a breath. “Halfway…”

She met him in the middle of the staircase.

He stood still on the wide step, staring down at her. “Want me?”

“Want you bad,” she admitted.

“Bad is very good.” He slid one finger beneath one of the gold link straps on her dress and drew her to him. He traced that same finger down her cheek, along her neck, and over her bare shoulder.

She shivered. Was she ready for this man?

He took the decision out of her hands. “I’m not staying the night,” he said softly. “Your body wants me, but your mind’s not yet convinced.
Talking is what we do best right now. The sex will come later.” A slow smile spread across his lips, looking sexy and promising. “When we win the World Series, I plan to kiss your panties off.”

Kiss her panties off.

Romeo’s words stayed with Emerson. Hot flashes claimed her whenever she thought of the third baseman.

Her mind was on him a lot.

The division play-offs had begun, and the Rogues hung in the race as a wild card. Em sat in the press box, covering every game. They might be all banged up, but the players’ hearts beat strongly.

Psycho McMillan had T-shirts made up. White with a black inscription:
I Didn’t Come Here to Lose.
The players wore the shirts beneath their jerseys.

Emerson had started traveling with the team again. Whether it was a home or an away game, once play ended, Romeo found her. Either at her condo or her hotel room. They talked, about their childhoods, friends, life in general.

Their minds connected on many levels. She smiled over the little things they had in common: organic cereal, Tide detergent, a preference for
rye bread. Museums, concerts, and sporting events interested both. They liked cold weather. Bunny hill skiing for Emerson and downhill racing for Romeo.

To his credit, Romeo never pushed for sex. Never even brought up the topic as they lay in bed, her head on his shoulder. Talking was all he wanted. Until after the World Series.

The anticipation nearly killed her.

Beside her now, Romeo stretched his big body. He’d slept bare-chested, his pajama bottoms low on his groin. His
Legendary
tattoo was visible. “Day off, Em. Any plans?”

She pushed herself up on the sleigh bed, arranged pillows behind her head. Then tugged down her red silk nightgown, which had crept up her thighs. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“Tomorrow we play the Raptors for the division title. A five-game series. My entire focus will be on winning. Today, I want to do something mindless. I want to totally clear my brain of the game.”

“We could hit the American Folk Art Festival at Gallery 001. There’s an exhibition by Jacob Kass: Painted Saws. The Features editor is out with the flu. I agreed to cover the event.”

“Saws?” Romeo rubbed his eyes. “I said mindless, Em, not mind-numbing.”

She rolled onto her side, placed a palm on his broad chest. When she felt his muscles jump, she smiled to herself. “You believe in the American spirit. Appreciate nostalgia. Kass’s work depicts a simpler, trouble-free time.”

“Depicted on dangerous tools.”

“How about the Mystery Playhouse, then?” she suggested. “The Butler’s Been Murdered Brunch.”

“Too much thought. I’d have to track clues.”

“There’s a pumpkin-carving contest at Memorial Children’s Hospital,” she said. “I saw it on the Rogues’ calendar of events.”

“Psycho will be there. He carves Leatherface from
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
The scariest pumpkin you’ve ever seen. The kids love it.”

Em would have nightmares. “Halloween’s coming up fast.”

“Right after the World Series.”

She circled his nipple with one finger. “The Rogues will win.”

“You believe this because…?”

“You have to collect on your bet.”

He kissed her then. A light kiss that had her leaning in as he slowly pulled away. He curved his hand over her hip and squeezed. “Sex can be mindless.”

“So can saws.”

“You want saws, I’ll give you saws.” His breath blew warm against her neck. “If they sell souvenirs at the Folk Art Festival, I’ll buy Psycho a chain saw to do his pumpkin carving.”

An hour later they found a lot more than chain saws at the exhibition. There were hand saws, circular saws, ice saws, sickles, corn cutters, and carpenter squares. Romeo went through the entire exhibit, then doubled back for a closer look. Emerson stood beside him, taking notes as he read about Jacob Kass’s career as an artist following five
decades as a master letterer and painter of commercial vehicles in Brooklyn. Only after retirement did his art embellish milk cans and frying pans, then eventually saws and other cutting tools.

Kass brought a bird’s-eye realism to his work. Emerson’s favorite,
Back to the Barn,
started near the handle of a grass scythe. The overhead view pictured a man herding a half dozen cows along a dirt road. Farther along the blade the road receded and the view expanded to take in farm buildings and cultivated fields. Near the point, faraway hills appeared under clouds streaked pink by the setting sun.

A composition of a New York subway station spiraling around a circular saw blade captured Romeo’s attention. A slice of life with cosmopolitan appeal.

Emerson had planned to see the Jacob Kass exhibit with or without Romeo. It was twice as nice that he’d attended with her. She had all the information she needed for a great article. She would honor the man’s life.

Souvenirs came in photographs of Kass’s work. Romeo bought Em a matted depiction of
Back to the Barn.
She thanked him with a kiss once they were seated in his Viper.

A kiss that moved beyond
thank you
and straight to
want me.
Parked in an alleyway between a brick wall and a gray SUV, Romeo teased her lips and made her moan.

His erection ran the full length of his zipper. With a heavy sigh, he channeled his sexual en
ergy into the Halloween event. “Time to carve a pumpkin.”

“I don’t touch pumpkin guts,” Em told him.

“Psycho does.”

Psycho McMillan was on his third pumpkin by the time Em and Romeo arrived. Set up in a lounge on the fourth floor, dozens of children too sick to attend Hollywood Harts had rolled their wheelchairs around a table. Several nurses accompanied them, and all eyes were glued to the rebellious, knife-wielding Rogue, who was capturing Casper the Friendly Ghost on an enormous pumpkin. Psycho held the kids spellbound with his contagious laugh and wax vampire teeth.

Every time he smiled, someone shrieked or giggled.

Standing off to the side, Emerson noticed a thin woman taking it all in. The same woman who had been at Jacy’s Java the day Em met Romeo for an interview. It seemed ages ago, but in reality it had been no more than six months.

While Romeo hugged and chatted with the kids, Emerson approached the blonde. “Emerson Kent,” she reintroduced herself.

The woman smiled. “You’re Romeo’s reporter.”

“And you’re Psycho’s designer.”

“Keely Douglas,” the blonde said. “Psycho had a playdate with the kids and asked me to come along.”

“Romeo wanted a day away from baseball,” Em returned. “We attended an exhibit at the American Folk Art Festival this morning.”

“Psycho watched cartoons until noon. His way of distancing himself from the game. Scooby Doo did the trick.”

“The guys face a lot of pressure.”

“All that stress will evaporate with a win. And the Rogues will win,” Keely said confidently. “Today’s about kids who may not see their next Halloween. Romeo and Psycho make a difference in their lives.”

“They sure do.” Emerson watched as Romeo selected a fat, misshapen pumpkin from those stacked against the far wall. He handed it to Psycho, who sliced off the stalk with a boning knife. Psycho then passed it to the little boy next to him to clean out the seeds.

“The gutting spoon, please,” requested the boy.

Psycho threw back his head and laughed. “Use your hands. Spoons are for sissies.”

The boy stared wide-eyed at Psycho, then back at the pumpkin. He squirmed, and the girl next to him squealed.

“You’ll never earn your vampire teeth if you can’t gut a pumpkin,” Psycho told them.

As if to prove himself worthy of the teeth, the boy closed his eyes and stuck his hand inside. His face pinched and “yuck” escaped as he withdrew a handful of seeds and pulp from the inside. He immediately dropped the guts into a big bowl, shaking off his hand.

Psycho patted the boy on the back. “Way to go, Adrian.” Reaching in to an athletic bag at his feet, Psycho rewarded Adrian with the wax teeth.
Adrian stuck them in his mouth and smiled a vampire smile.

After gulps and grimaces, Sarah, the little girl seated beside Adrian, earned her teeth as well. As did every child at the table. In no time, vampire smiles had everyone laughing.

Emerson turned to Keely. “Psycho’s got a big heart.”

“There’s a good man in that bad boy,” Keely agreed. “Earlier, he blindfolded the kids, put grapes in a bowl, and told them they were touching eyeballs. He did the same with strawberry jelly and called it blood. The kids went nuts. Psycho treats them as if they weren’t sick. These children may be fragile, but they deserve to have fun at Halloween.”

Both Psycho and Romeo brought fun. Emerson watched as Romeo pulled up a chair beside Sarah. He supported the little girl’s wrist as she took a grease pencil and drew a face on the pumpkin. From where Em stood, it looked like a bat. They went on to attempt a mummy and Darth Vader.

Em soon realized the children didn’t care if the face on the pumpkins resembled any of their requests. For an hour or two, the kids were with their baseball heroes. That was all that mattered.

Snacks of orange Jell-O and peach slices arrived. They all took out their teeth except Psycho. As they were getting ready to leave, Sarah gifted Romeo with the pumpkin they’d carved together. Emerson saw his jaw lock and his throat work as he bent and placed a kiss on the little girl’s cheek. And Sarah giggled.

Psycho and Keely followed Romeo and Em from the hospital. “You can take out those teeth anytime now,” Emerson heard Keely tell Psycho.

Psycho turned a heated look on the blonde, snapped his teeth, and she blushed bright red. Emerson could guess their plans for the rest of the afternoon. Bed and bite.

After their good-byes, Romeo set the pumpkin in his Viper, then took Em’s hand. They started walking. They crossed the parking lot and strolled aimlessly for close to an hour.

Neither spoke until they reached a public park where children ran, swung on swing sets, and climbed on a metal structure that resembled a mountain. Romeo leaned against the fence, staring at all the activity. At all the kids with long, healthy lives ahead of them.

“Sarah gave me her pumpkin.” his words came out slowly. “When the World Series is over, I want to take a group of terminally ill kids on a vacation of their choice. I want to do this personally, outside of Make a Wish or any other foundation. I don’t want it publicized. I’d like you to come with me.”

Tears welled up in Emerson’s eyes. She blew out a breath. Romeo Bellisaro was an amazing man. “Of course, I’ll go.”

He nodded, smiled. “We’ll put our plan in motion. Private bus, train, or plane, we’ll find the best transportation possible. Keep the kids comfortable. Contract a medical team. I want to hear Sarah laugh.”

Sarah would laugh, Emerson knew. The little girl would be downright giddy to travel with Romeo.

The sun sank behind a cloud. Dusk was fast approaching. Romeo looked around. “Where are we?”

They’d walked for miles, keeping quiet company, not paying attention to their surroundings. “South of the hospital,” she guessed.

“Think we can find our way back?”

“If not, we can always call a cab.”

Ninety minutes and several wrong turns later, they caught sight of the hospital off in the distance. “Buy you an early dinner?” he asked.

Em shook her head. “Let me cook for you instead. We’ll stop at Blockbuster, pick up a few movies. Keep it relaxed and in-house tonight.” She plucked her cell phone from her purse, dialed, and spoke briefly. Disconnecting, she turned to Romeo. “My masseur will be at the condo shortly. Let Max work you over. A deep tissue massage takes you to a happy place.”

That had been two hours ago, and now Romeo was feeling damn happy. The massage had removed all the stress from his body. Emerson’s spaghetti and wine sauce filled his stomach.
The Gladiator
with Russell Crowe had captured his attention. The feel of Emerson curled by his side on the sofa felt right. As if he’d waited for just her fit all his life.

Tomorrow, the National League Division Series pitted the Rogues against the Raptors. They’d need to win three out of five games to advance to
the Championship Series. Chris Collier would be the starting pitcher. A pitcher thought by many on the team to have seen better days. Yet Psycho backed the man. The enmity between the two seemed to have vanished overnight. Now Psycho could actually be heard supporting the pitcher.

Romeo had discussed Psycho’s change of attitude with Chaser. Chaser wanted to let sleeping dogs lie. There had been no further comments made. Psycho never offered an explanation.

Game day arrived, overcast and spitting rain. Not a good sign for the superstitious, but damp, slippery grass didn’t hinder the Rogues. Metal cleats and an indomitable spirit brought them wins both at home and in Ontario.

The Rogues took the series 3-1.

Afterward, the players lined up for the team trainer. From strained shoulders to torn Achilles tendons, they were doctored and taped. Only Psycho and Chris Collier declined treatment. Psycho was too focused to feel pain. Collier swore himself good to go.

The Rogues next played St. Louis in the League Championship Series. The Cardinals were last year’s World Series Champions, and planned to hold on to the title.

The Rogues saw it differently. Romeo pushed himself to the limit. And beyond. Every muscle in his body ached. He dove for line drives, tagged players out at third, even those who played dirty and purposely ran him over in the hope he’d drop the ball. He held tight.

Psycho hit like a maniac. Home run after home run.

Chaser made major plays at home plate.

The guys were tired, sore, and worn, yet continued to push themselves hard. When they beat St. Louis, their celebration was wild. Then the struggle began once again as they faced the Minnesota Twins, the team with the highest overall ranking in Major League Baseball.

At team captain Risk Kincaid’s suggestion, and for the first time in team history, the Rogues made a pact to stay out of the spotlight. They avoided the press, kept to themselves. Unity snuck into the locker room. Cemented them as a team.

When the World Series opened in Minnesota, the Rogues were ready. Romeo watched as a wild-eyed and very wired Psycho McMillan played his ass off. His energy fired the team, kept everyone playing at the highest level.