Holm, Stef Ann (49 page)

Alex
took it but didn't put the cap on.

"Go
out there and play baseball." He turned to go back to the stands, pausing
a moment to add, "Go kick some ass... busher."

Alex
stood there, shaken, knowing he'd cheated Joe—but Joe forgave him anyway. He'd
even given him an out. He took the blame himself. The act was selfless, which
disquieted Alex. Joe hadn't seized on the moment to take a piece out of him, to
make him pay for a life left overturned these past three years.

It
had always been Captain who'd needed to be freed, but it was Alex who had been
released by the man he'd hurt. The guilt and regret lessened, though lingered
at the edges of Alex's mind. He would never fully let go. But Joe had said it
was all right to move on.

Lowering
his head, Alex made his way back to the batter's box, picked up his bat, and
took his batting stance.

The
crowd began to chant. Cheers of encouragement rose up to the skies, along with
whistles and calls and the sound of clapping hands and stamping feet.

Alex
was behind by two strikes. This was it. Everything or nothing.

Cy's
tall form made an imposing picture on the mound. The red-gold of a sunset cast
its colors over his dingy uniform. He clenched his teeth in resolution as he
wound up.

Kick
some ass... busher.

From
the plate, Alex could hear the ball snapping off Cy's fingers as it left his
hand and headed like a dart straight for him. Bulking every ounce of strength
in his body, Alex hit the ball with a solid smack, driving it over the right
fielder's head—over the wall and out of the park.

Home
run.

The
pennant belonged to the Harmony Keystones.

The
hometown crowd went wild as Alex tagged the bases. People rushed out of the
stands and onto the grass, disregarding the ropes the Harmony police department
had put up to keep fans from interfering with the plays.

A
commotion of goodwill ensued, but Alex crept away from it, away from the tight
knot of fans and well-wishers, away from those who surrounded him, who touched
him. He smiled; with each smile, he backed away from the press of people. As he
walked, he searched.

For
the woman he loved.

Camille
saw Alex, watched him over the shoulders of the many who'd gathered around her
to offer compliments and congratulations. Her father had given her a crushing
hug, and her mother, a kiss on the cheek. And the players had shouted,
"Three cheers for Miss Kennison," and would have hoisted her in the
air if she'd let them. But her heart wasn't with the chants. Everything in her
was focused on Alex.

She
excused herself from those around her and ran after him.

"Alex,"
she called.

He
stopped and inclined his head in her direction. Meeting him, she stood close,
searching his face— hoping to find a message from his heart written in his
eyes. She saw a sadness that seemed impossible to touch.

The
moment stretched taut between them.

She
could stand the silence no longer. "Why are you doing this, Alex? I know
that you care." A sob broke free from her throat. "But you're going
to walk away from me."

Conflict
raged in his brown eyes as he took her chin in his fingers. The touch was soft
and gentle. "I love you, Camille."

The
avowal wrapped her in velvet warmth. They were the words she'd dreamed of
hearing these past weeks, but he didn't say them with a promise of happily ever
after. "I know where you're going and why you have to go. I don't
understand why you aren't coming back. Harmony's your home. If the doctor can
make Joe better, you don't have to stay in New York. And if you love me, you
should have asked me to go with you. I would... I will. I love you, too,
Alex."

He
brushed his knuckles alongside her jaw before lowering his hand. His handsome
features softened with the light that kindled in his eyes. She took small
satisfaction that she had affected him; that she could break his resolve a
little—if not crumble it altogether. He had difficulty swallowing, keeping his
gaze level as he struggled for his next words.

"God,
how I love you. But what you don't understand is the reality of a life spent in
hospital hallways. A life of treatments and medication. A life with no guarantee
that Captain will get better."

"But
Captain
is
better."

"Yeah,
he's better. But I still have to take him. To make sure he has every chance to
fully recover."

"Alex,
I mean it. I'll go with you."

"I
can't ask you to sacrifice your dreams."

"Sacrifice?
It's not a sacrifice to be with the person you love." She put her
fingertips on his lips; her hand trembled. Her eyes filled with tears. "My
life is with you."

He
took her wrist in his fingers, stilling her caress. "Your life is here,
Camille. In Harmony. Where you've achieved what you set out to."

Desolation
claimed her as he released her. She lowered her arm and clenched her fists in
frustration. Bringing her arms to her sides, she gazed hotly into Alex's face.
"You're right. I won. I fought to manage this team. I fought to have my
father accept me. I fought to be independent and make my own way."

She
couldn't check the tears that ran down her cheeks as she reached out and
touched his hair with her fingers. In a whisper, she said, "But I never
fought for
you
—the one thing that means more to me than anything else in
the world. I want to help you. I want to go with you. You never gave me a
chance to answer, because you never asked me. You can't decide for me... unless
you really don't want me..."

"Want
you?" His breath shuddered in his chest as his large hands took her face
and cradled it. "Camille, from the first time I saw you with the sunlight
spilling over you in that pale dress, I've wanted you. Wanted you so badly I
could have turned my back on Captain and forgotten the vow I made to myself to
see him out of the hell I put him in. It's been torture of the worst kind,
holding you at night, kissing you, making love to you, knowing that it wasn't
going to last. That I couldn't have you forever."

She
choked. "But you can have me forever."

"I
don't ever want you to feel like I cheated you out of what you could have had
for yourself, like I did Joe." His voice broke, a strangled cry in his
voice as he struggled to keep his composure. "I couldn't stand it. I
couldn't."

Her
hands slipped up his arms. Through the moisture in her eyes, she gave him an
exasperated glare. "You hard-headed man. I have
nothing
if I don't
have you."

He
looked at her and she knew he was looking deep, looking for the truth in her
soul. "I love you, Alex Cordova. And if you don't ask me to go to Buffalo
with you, I'll just pack my bags and follow you."

His
long, drawn-out silence was sweeter than any words he could have given her.
Because his mouth held the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen. It was a smile
of love. Of hope. Of promise. Of the future.

He
swept her into his arms and lifted her off her feet, swinging her in a full
circle. When he set her back on the ground, his mouth sought hers in a deep and
wondrous kiss that turned her to fire. Her heart pounded; her skin burned.
Everything inside her trembled.

"I'm
asking," he said huskily. "Will you come to Buffalo with me,
honey?"

"Yes,"
she said against his lips.

"Then
we'll have to do something first."

She
broke the kiss to look up into his face. "What?"

"Get
married."

"You
may
be disappointed," Alex said, an easy smile on his lips. With his shirt
hanging open and nankeen pants hugging his hips, he set a pair of beer bottles
on the dresser in their hotel room. "I've built up the whole idea of
drinking beer in the bathtub. It may not have the same appeal for you that it
does for me."

"If
you're in there naked, then it'll appeal to me," Camille assured him, her
gaze roaming over her husband as he shrugged out of his shirt to reveal a
muscular chest covered with crisp dark hair. She never tired of looking at his
body. The way his arm movements were smooth and full of virility, his biceps
well defined. His hands were big and square and tanned; he flipped open the
buttons on his fly, then stepped free of his pants and drawers at the same
time. She studied his long, sturdy legs that were lean and sinewy with a light
dusting of hair. Perfect. He was perfect. She moved her eyes upward and froze
on the part of anatomy that was nestled in his groin. Big and full.

He
stood before her, devilishly handsome. Completely nude. Completely at ease.

She
felt her self-control slipping. He was hers now and she could have him whenever
she wanted.

Alex's
grin was lopsided, as if he could read her thoughts. "Strip down,
honey."

Giving
him a smile in return, she began to unbutton her shirtwaist and pull her arms
free, letting the silk billow to the floor in a cloud of white. She undressed
with deliberate slowness, watching his eyes darken as he followed everything
her hands did. Unhooking her skirt, the rose-colored voile glided down and over
the taffeta of her petticoat. She worked the fasteners of her corset, then
tossed the stiff whalebone on top of her shirtwaist. The batiste shimmy, her
pantalets and her shoes followed, as did her stockings, but with a long, slow
roll down her thighs, knees, and calves. Then she pulled the pins free from her
hair, letting them scatter onto the carpet, not caring where they fell. She
shook her hair and the curls tumbled over her shoulders.

He
held out his hand for her. "Let's see if you like what I have in mind for
you."

"I
know I'll like what you have in mind." She grasped his hand.

His
broad shoulders disappeared around the corner of the connecting bathroom, but
she stopped just shy of the frame.

"The
beer," she said. "I'll get the bottles. You warm up the water."

"The
water will warm up when you sink your luscious body into it."

In
spite of the fact they'd touched each other in every way and had kissed
countless times, the comment made her blush.

She
turned away, went into the suite, and grabbed the bottles of beer. Then she
glanced at the open suitcases on the four-poster bed. They would be leaving
tomorrow to go home. Back to Harmony. Where Alex would move his belongings into
her house on Elm Street and she would spend her days in her garden while he
worked at the wood shop. And come the spring, she'd manage the Keystones for
the new season.

They'd
been in Buffalo for a month.

Camille
and Alex and Hildegarde and Joe were married in a double ceremony two days
after winning the pennant. It had been a small service, with only immediate
family and friends in attendance at the Harmony General Assembly Church.

It
hadn't surprised Camille or Alex that Joe had asked Hildegarde to marry him.
The pair had fallen in love, with a deep devotion for one another. Joe hadn't
wanted to leave Harmony without Hildegarde by his side. As his wife.

Mrs.
Plunkett wailed so loudly in the church when Hildegarde said "I do,"
she leaned over in a dead faint against Mr. Plunkett. He'd had to use smelling
salts to revive her. Camille's parents sat in the front pew, hands clasped
together as they watched her pledge her heart, her love, to Alex Cordova from
that day forward. The following morning, the couples had left for New York.

Since
they'd been in Buffalo, Joe had seen Dr. Denton daily. Joe had stayed in the
hospital as a patient for the first week, then he'd moved into a small
apartment along the river with Hildegarde when the doctor said his tests were
completed. Alex had insisted on paying the rent.

Each
day, Joe resumed more of his memory. Enough so that he'd told Alex to get on
with his life, that he'd be all right without him. He had plans to return to
Harmony as soon as the doctor told him he could.

The
emotional steps the two men had taken to forge a bridge, from what had been the
past to what was now, had been uncomplicated. Joe looked at life with the eyes
of a man ready to get on living. Alex at long last tucked his memories away and
let himself move on.

And
Camille was the woman he'd chosen to be with.

The
thought brought tingles over her arms. She was more in love with Alex today
than she had ever been.

The
beer bottles clinking in her hand, she joined her husband in the bathroom.

Alex
lounged in a claw-footed enamel bathtub filled to the brim with a flurry of
bubbles. His feet were propped up on the edge of the tub. When she quirked her
brow at the foaming white suds, he simply said, "For you."

She
smiled. "I think more for you." A hint of dubiousness played in her
tone. "You're always telling me to put on my lavender perfume." She
spied the empty bottle of bath soap. "You used the whole thing."