Fastball (12 page)

Jake raised his eyebrows. Obviously Robbie
had been paying more attention over the years to the
Post’s
reporters—at least the female variety—than he had. And he found it
hard to believe that
mousey
was a term that could ever be
applied to Maddie Leclair. “I wouldn’t know. Anyway, the day I got
to San Diego, I was waiting for my turn in the cage when she called
me over to the stands.” He shook his head, remembering the impact
of that moment. “She knocked me on my ass, man. I don’t know how
else to describe it. My jaw must have been dragging in the
dirt.”

“Yeah, well, I hope you didn’t get too
excited. She doesn’t date players. Never has, as far as I
know.”

Jake waved a vague hand. “Most reporters
don’t. Too dangerous.”

Robbie’s gaze narrowed with suspicion. “Most,
huh? You taking a run at her, dog?”

“Just let me finish the story.”

“Jesus, you
are
.” Robbie let out a low
whistle. “Holy shit.”

For some reason, his friend’s reaction raised
Jake’s hackles. “Nothing happened. I said I’d give her an
interview, but it had to be informal. I suggested she meet me away
from the park, at a restaurant.”

Robbie rubbed his palms together. “Against
the rules, but sweet.”

Jake snorted. “It wasn’t any kind of date,
except for the fact I wanted to jump her bones as soon as she
walked in the damn door. But after the story she wrote appeared in
the
Post
, Charley Cameron figured it out and ran to
Dembinski, and Dembinski rained hell down on my ass, and on
Maddie’s, too.”

His friend stiffened, looking genuinely
outraged. “I hope you told those assholes to go fuck themselves. It
totally sucks the way these guys try to run our lives even when
we’re not at the park.”

“I pretty much gave Charley that message, but
then he said the situation could really hurt Maddie’s career so I
went and sucked up to Dembinski. Unfortunately, the bastard wasn’t
exactly forgiving. Like I said, he pretty much reamed me a new
one.”

“The jerk-off. So what if you broke the rule?
It’s a dumbass rule, anyway.” Robbie leaned over and gave Jake’s
shoulder a brief squeeze. “Stop worrying about it. Those guys like
to pretend they’re tough, but I bet they don’t do a damn thing to
you or to her.”

Jake sighed. “I don’t really care that much
if they’re pissed at me. As long as I keep hitting, they’ll be
kissing my ass. But Maddie doesn’t need any more trouble. I thought
we had some serious chemistry going when we met that time, but ever
since the team found out about it, she’s been running scared. She
won’t come anywhere near me.”

And that fact brought a bitter taste to his
mouth. Why was he so obsessed with her?

Robbie nodded. “Ah, it does sound like our
Paul Bunyan clone might be a little love-bitten, but I think I know
just the remedy for your particular brand of illness.” To make his
point crystal clear, he gave Jake a lascivious leer.

Jake clamped down on a flare of temper. “Come
on, Rob. I don’t need you lining up women for me. You’ve tried and
failed before. Give it a rest.”

Robbie tried for wounded innocence. “I don’t
have a clue what you’re talking about. Just let me make a call and
see if I can arrange a little dinner companionship.”

Jake thought it over for a few seconds, but
as Robbie grabbed his cell phone and started to dial, he grabbed
his arm. “Just forget it, okay? I appreciate what you’re trying to
do…” He paused, thinking maybe he should let Robbie make the call.
They could both use a little relaxation after the stress of the
past few days, and dinner and a light flirtation might be the
perfect distraction.

Deep inside, though, Jake knew it wouldn’t
work. He’d end up feeling even worse, and it wouldn’t be fair to
whatever poor woman had to put up with him. He’d spend the whole
night wishing she was Maddie, and feeling frustrated that she
wasn’t. “Rob. I’m just not up for it. My head’s not there right
now.”

Robbie burst into laughter. “Who said
anything about your head? At least not
that
head.”

Jake felt his jaw clench. Robbie could be so
infantile at times. “Maybe I’ll get over this thing about Maddie,
but right now all I can think about is her, and I’m not going to
bang some team chick just for the hell of it.”

Robbie sighed, looking deflated. “Okay, but
you have to give your head a shake when it comes to Maddie Leclair,
dude. I don’t think that glacier is about to melt, not even for
Jake Miller.”

That threatened to send Jake’s mood deeper
into the tank, but he resisted. “Maybe, but I’m not ready to give
up yet. There was something heavy going on between us. She admitted
it herself. I need to find a way to be alone with her, but she’s
not letting it happen.”

Robbie thought for a second, and then his
face lit up. “Well, I just might have an idea about that.”

Yeah, I bet.
“Go on. I’m listening,”
Jake said.

“Are you going to be playing in the charity
golf tournament on Monday? The one sponsored by the
Post
and
the Children’s Hospital?”

“I’m entered. I was out of commission last
year, and missed the two before that because of other injuries. I
always seem to be banged up at that time of year, and you know the
trainers would never let me risk aggravating an injury over a round
of golf.”

“I don’t play the dumb game, so I’ve never
paid much attention to the tournament. But I’m pretty sure Maddie
Leclair plays every year. I heard one of the guys talking about her
last year. He said she’s a great golfer, and her ass looks super
sweet in a golf skirt.” He laughed as if he’d told a hilarious
joke.

Jake stifled the biting put-down that sprang
to his lips. Robbie was like a big, immature kid, but at least he
was trying to help. “So, you’re saying she’ll be in the tournament?
Even so, if I’m there she’s still going to pretend I don’t
exist.”

“She won’t get the chance. Look, Nate
practically runs the event, remember? He can tell the committee to
arrange whatever foursomes he wants. Just ask him to make sure you
get in the same foursome as Maddie.”

The wheels started spinning in Jake’s head.
It was Nate who’d talked him into signing up for the tournament
this year—his buddy was relentless when it came to helping out the
children’s hospital—and he wouldn’t let Jake off the hook. And
given the sizeable donation Jake had just made to the hospital
himself, Nate owed him a favor.

He nodded, thinking it through. “I suppose
it’s not a bad plan, Rob.”

He had to do
something
to see Maddie,
and soon. Okay, this plan carried a whiff of desperation—well, more
than a whiff—but desperate was beginning to come pretty close to
how Jake felt. Maybe if he and Maddie spent some time together on
the course and had some fun, it could loosen things up. With Nate
part of the foursome, they were guaranteed to have more than a few
laughs.

Robbie grinned. “You’re welcome. And all
it’ll cost you is picking up my tab tonight.”

“A small price to pay,” Jake said.

As soon as they left O’Rourke’s, Jake reached
Nate on his cell and explained the situation. As always, Nate
didn’t hesitate to help. He couldn’t guarantee he could arrange the
foursome Jake wanted, but he sounded optimistic. More than that,
his best friend was sympathetic, not giving him any crap for
wanting to get close to Maddie.

A few minutes after dropping Robbie back at
the ballpark where he’d left his car, Jake was home in his condo on
the 20
^th
floor of one of the city’s older but discretely
luxurious apartment buildings. Feeling like he finally had a plan
to connect with Maddie, he waited for coffee to brew as he strolled
over to the picture windows lining one wall of his living room. He
took in the spectacular view—the city lights, the river slicing
through Philadelphia—knowing he should try to throttle back his
sense of anticipation. But he finally felt like he was back in the
game, and this time he, not Maddie, would be calling the plays.

Maddie grabbed her golf bag from the trunk of
her car and headed toward the clubhouse of the Belmont Country
Club. She always looked forward to the annual golf tournament
co-organized by the
Post
and the Philadelphia Children’s
Hospital. She loved golf, even though she didn’t get to play as
often as she wished, and shooting a round while raising money to
benefit the kids at PCH was a great way to spend a day out in the
sun and fresh air.

And she desperately needed the break since
the last few days had been hell on wheels. Still smarting over the
tongue-lashing Dembinski had inflicted on her, she knew her
credibility with Patriots management had been badly damaged. Worse
yet, her efforts to pretend that Jake Miller didn’t exist were
exhausting. She’d been working hard to avoid any contact with him,
not even meeting his eyes when his intent gaze arrowed in on her,
which happened on a regular basis. Maddie had never felt quite so
off-balance in her life—angry at everyone, including herself,
embarrassed that she’d screwed up, and, even more alarming, lonely
and yearning for a man she barely knew. It was completely crazy but
something special
had
happened with Jake that night in La
Jolla, and she couldn’t seem to shake it.

Well, she’d simply have to keep trying to
shake it, and a brisk round of golf was just to the thing to take
her mind off her worries.

It was an unseasonably crisp and clear late
spring day, the infrequent kind she cherished before the full heat
and humidity of the Philadelphia summer covered the city in a
sweltering haze. Even better, the tournament organizers had hooked
her up with Martha Winston, a fellow reporter at the
Post
and a southern beauty with enough charm for a dozen women. Though
Martha was a little younger and more free-spirited than Maddie, she
had a wisdom and honesty about her that Maddie appreciated and
found immensely valuable.

Her southern belle friend was also funny as
hell, which was a plus on a day when Maddie’s mood meter was
hovering in the low single digits.

Martha had already changed and was just
finishing lacing up her golf shoes when Maddie walked into the
women’s locker room. Her pal looked fabulous, as usual, Maddie
thought with a tiny touch of envy—tall and slender in a
tangerine-shade golf shirt and tight-fitting white shorts that
emphasized her long, bronzed legs. Her shoulder-length honey-blond
hair was pulled through the back of her white golf cap and a tied
with a scrunchy that matched her shirt.

“Martha, as usual, all the guys are going to
be walking around the course with hard-ons just from looking at
you,” Maddie said wryly.

Martha straightened up, unleashing a
mischievous grin. “Isn’t that kind of the point, hon? None of the
tennis players and the golfers I cover ever come to this
tournament, so I don’t have to worry about that. And the football
and baseball guys are fair game for me, in my most humble
opinion.”

Her friend’s casual reference to eligible
ballplayers put a damper on Maddie’s already fragile spirits.
“Lucky you,” she said, forcing a smile. She
hated
that even
the most off-handed remark could send her back into the dumps.

Martha shot her a sympathetic glance as she
closed her locker door. “You’re still bummed by the thing with Jake
Miller, aren’t you?”

Maddie sighed. She had told Martha about the
tongue-lashing from the Patriots’ general manager as soon as she
got back to town. “I’ve been trying to put it out of my mind, but
the honest truth is that I just can’t seem to shake it. And that’s
really beginning to tick me off.”

The locker room door opened and four other
women trooped in. Maddie gave Martha a warning glance. “Later,
okay?”

“Message received,” Martha said with a nod.
“While you’re getting dressed I’ll head over to the tournament tent
and check us in. Then I’ll get the cart and meet you at the first
tee.”

Maddie suited up in short order, then grabbed
her bag and hustled out. She’d been a bit late arriving, and their
scheduled tee-off time was only a few minutes away. As she neared
the first tee area, she spotted Martha sitting in their golf cart,
head down. As soon as Martha raised her eyes and saw her, Maddie
could tell something was wrong. In fact, her friend looked
positively pained.

“What’s wrong?” Maddie asked as she hurried
up.

“Just get in the cart, hon.”

Oh, crap.
Maddie began to get a very
bad feeling.

Quickly, she stowed her bag and got on board.
Martha put her foot down hard on the pedal and the cart shot away.
They both held a tense silence until Martha braked to a stop about
a hundred feet along a secluded path and turned to face Maddie with
grim determination.

“I wanted us to get away so we could talk
where nobody’s listening,” she said. “You’re not going to believe
this, hon, because I almost fainted myself when I got to the tent
and saw who we’re playing with today.”

She paused and took a deep breath, and
Maddie’s blood pressure shot into the stratosphere. Who could it
be? Somebody from Patriots’ management? Maybe even Dembinski? The
very idea made her want to throw up.

“Just tell me, Martha.”

“It’s Nate Carter and…Jake Miller.”

Maddie’s entire body immediately flushed with
heat. Feeling like she was going to faint, she jumped out of the
cart and stepped off the path into a patch of shade cast by a large
oak. She bent down and rested her hands on her knees, forcing her
breathing to settle. After a few minutes, she straightened up,
pulling herself together.

Get a grip, Maddie. You can do this.

“Give me a second before saying anything
more, okay?” she said in a tight voice as she climbed back into the
cart.