Saving Maverick (10 page)

“Huh, didn't realize you moonlighted as a comedian. But, I was thinking more like the conference room at the stadium.”

“Attraction like ours doesn't come along very often, right? I think we owe it to ourselves to see where this could go.”

“Really?” Despite her dry tone, her pulse began to race. This man sent her hormones into overdrive. It was freaky and scary and damn exciting.

“I'll make you a deal, we'll meet somewhere neutral. How about Club Cortana? I know the owner, Reese Kincaid. She'll be discreet and won't tip off the media. It's in the heart of the downtown historic district, nice atmosphere, and we can discuss our plan without anyone interrupting us.”

“Scared to be alone with me, Kelsey?” Maverick whispered.

“No, I want to ensure I have your full attention, and that won't happen in your condo.”

“All right, you win. This time. But I'm not giving up so easily. If we meet in public today, then you owe me a chance to spend time together, away from the public eye.”

“
Maverick, you seem to think I'm going to fall in line with your seduction plan. I'm not. I can admit I find you attractive and leave it at that. I'm not interested in starting anything personal with you right now. The timing just isn't right.”

“You can believe whatever you want, Kelsey. I'll see you at the restaurant at five.” Maverick ended the call.

He hung up on her! The man lifted the word “aggravating” to new heights. Well, he had another thing coming. She'd show him. She threw her phone down on the bed and marched over to her closet. Damn. She hadn't brought many clothes with her.

Looks like a quick trip to Macy's was in order. She'd find the lowest cut dress they had and make him squirm. He could look all he wanted, but this time she was not letting him touch.

Chapter 11

The crowd at Club Cortana was sparse. Kelsey asked for a seat by the window. Though they'd been having a warm spell, it was still February in north Idaho and was too cold to sit out on the balcony. She pulled down her skirt. Maybe it was a bit shorter than it needed to be. She wanted to heat Maverick's blood, not the busboy's.

When he hadn't showed up by five ten she pulled out her cell to text him, and heard a throat being cleared. She didn't look up right away; instead she finished her text. She looked up into the eyes of her nemesis. Her hot, and drop-dead gorgeous nemesis who'd made it perfectly clear what he wanted from her. And it had nothing to do with her job.

“Have a date after our meeting, do you?” Maverick sat down and took her phone from her hands and placed it on his side of the table, out of her reach. “Or maybe you dressed like that to show me what I can't have. If so, you've underestimated me.” He held her gaze. Challenge shone in his eyes.

Maybe she miscalculated, a bit. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” She put a bored look on her face.

“Don't you? For someone who claims not to be interested in a personal relationship with me, your outfit says differently. Do you always wear “come fuck me” shoes to business meetings?”

This
time Kelsey squirmed in her chair and felt a warm flush creep up her neck. All right, so her plan backfired. But she could handle him and put him back in his place. Maybe.

She looked down at her shoes and let out an exaggerated sigh. “These ol' things? They're my favorite pair. I never miss an opportunity to wear them.”

Maverick shook his head and leaned forward. “You want to play it that way, I'm fine with that.”

“What way?”

“The ‘look all you want, but you can't touch' act. It's not going to work. Just promise me you'll keep them on when you're underneath me.”

“Dammit, Maverick. You can't talk to me like that. This is a professional relationship and we need to concentrate on getting your reputation back to where it needs to be. Can you keep your mind out of the bedroom and work with me here?”

“Kelsey, you're dressed like you're ready for a night out at a dance club, and by the way, there's one right downstairs. This reverse psychology, or whatever it is, is doing the exact opposite. Hell, you could wear a high-collared blouse and floor-length skirt and I'd still want to be inside you right now. So let's not pretend that you didn't dress this way to prove something. It's not working. Other than raising my blood pressure.”

Kelsey was equal parts embarrassed and turned on. Mostly turned on. “You're not making this easy for me, Maverick. If I admit to you right now that the attraction is undeniable, but totally unrealistic, will you stop?”

“
Kelsey, haven't you ever come across something, someone so indefinable that you'd do about anything to grab on and never let go? I can't explain it better than that.” Maverick had picked up her hand and caressed the soft flesh at the base of her palm while he spoke, igniting an intense firestorm. Her nipples became rock hard. She couldn't breathe.

How was she supposed to respond? She'd always been a good judge of bullshit, and Maverick passed with flying colors. Why him, why now? The stakes were too high for both of them. Her friendship with T.S. in any other circumstance should be more than enough incentive to keep her from starting something physical with Maverick, no matter how short term. So why was she picturing them naked and in bed, her bed, and not feeling a shred of guilt for lusting over her client?

“I see the wheels turning, Kelsey. Hopefully they're turning in my favor.”

“Maverick you have me so twisted around, I can't think. Right now we need to focus on interviews, the press conference on Wednesday, and getting you back in the starting rotation. Beyond that . . .” Kelsey fell silent.

“Beyond that is a whole world of possibilities, Kelsey. I'm not going to beg you. I'm going to leave it up to you if you want more than a professional relationship. But that doesn't mean I'm going to play fair either.”

He let go of her hand when the waitress appeared to take their order. She watched as he deflected the woman's attempts at flirtation by ignoring her offer to attend a party at the club downstairs later.

In
her business, Kelsey dealt with fans all the time when she was out with her clients. So it didn't bother her too much that the waitress totally ignored her until she touched Maverick on the shoulder.

Fascinated, she saw Maverick turn red and watched as he fidgeted in his seat while he shot her a look. A look that said “do something.” She decided not to do anything. No, she sat back and enjoyed the show and his obvious embarrassment. Besides, the manager was on his way over to address the overeager waitress.

It didn't matter, much, that the woman had totally forgotten Kelsey was there or that she should be doing her job and taking their meal order, instead of trying to score with the hottest baseball player to ever walk through the club doors.

No, what set her off the most were the twinges of jealousy in her gut because the man who'd proclaimed his desperate desire to get into her panties was autographing the inside forearm of their waitress as she was doing everything she could to push her breasts closer to his face.

Dammit. Maybe she needed to make an appointment herself with Caris for a little in-depth analysis.

Chapter 12

Last night had been both frustrating and encouraging. The waitress had wrecked the mood he was trying to set, but when she shoved her boobs into his face he could have sworn he saw a flash of jealousy appear on Kelsey's face.

The dinner had not gone well. Their conversation had been all business after their meal was delivered. He realized he'd have to change up his normal tactics when he went after this woman because she was far from normal. She was . . . what was she? He couldn't pin it down to only one thing. She was the whole package and he'd do whatever it took to convince her they could mix business and pleasure.

That morning had dawned cold and bright. He loved the sun and drank his coffee out on his balcony, but north Idaho was something Maverick wasn't sure he wanted to get used to. In the off-season he spent his time at his home in Florida, with no snow, and warm beach weather to laze in, girl watch, and recharge. But this year was different.

Sure, Pineville had its charms. Easy access to the mountains if you wanted to ski (which he didn't), and little to no traffic or crowds of fawning fans when he wanted to go out to a restaurant or bar. He liked the close feel of the area, but wondered if he'd miss the energy of Boston.

And
Pineville had the two things he wanted most. The Outlaws and Kelsey Sullivan. There hadn't been a woman in his previous life who'd come close to her allure, her brains, and her quick wit.

He needed to get over to the stadium for some pitch practice since the ballpark in Arizona wasn't going to be ready in time. They were spending the first two weeks of practice in Pineville before the spring training games began in March. At least the new stadium had a retractable roof.

His condo was so close to the stadium, he could have jogged. But thanks to the video, the paparazzi had staked him out, so he made a mad dash for his new toy, a black, three-quarter ton Ford F-350.

A half hour later, he was suited up and on the mound. The roof had finally been finished, but it was still damn cold in the stadium. The trainers had brought out the heaters to little effect.

“Dammit, Mav, get it in the pocket.” Ace Jefferson barked out the tired request—again. Ace was the best pitching coach in the division, and he shook his head nearly every time Mav threw a pitch.

Maverick stepped back off the mound and took off his cap, wiped the sweat from his eyes and stared at the glove Luke was holding. It was poised to catch another pitch, but as soon as he saw Mav step off, he stood up to his full six-three height, and trotted out to the mound.

“What do you need me to do, Mav? You want a more open target, what? Give me the word and we'll get this,” Luke said.

Maverick couldn't quite look his friend in the eye. They'd been through it all together. Losing season after mediocre season until they'd finally made it to the division championships last year and lost it because Mav had lost his nerve. His go-to pitch. His goddamned mind.

“
No, Luke, you're right on the money. I'm just not pulling the trigger. I must be overthinking it. Plus . . . ,” and he hated the lie he forced himself to tell, “. . . plus the elbow is stiffening up again. I think it needs ice.” Maverick handed the ball back to Luke and walked over to the fence, shoulders back, and faced his judge and jury.

“Hey, Ace, I think the elbow needs some ice. I'll hit the physical therapist up for a wrap and be back out in an hour to throw again. Sound good?” Maverick braced himself for an argument, but it never came.

“Yeah, sure thing. But remember you only have the rest of the week to get the elbow tuned up, otherwise . . . well, you know the score.” The pitching coach didn't quite look Mav in the eye as he spoke.

Mav smiled, but on the inside felt like a piece of shit. “Thanks, Ace. I'm sure the ice will help. I've been working with the physical therapist and he seems to think I'm right there on the cusp of being a hundred percent by the end of the week.” He turned toward the dugout and made his way through the tunnel leading to the Outlaws' locker room.

His elbow wasn't swollen, and there was no pain when he pitched either. He knew it. Ace knew it. Hell, the whole damn team knew it.

He stripped out of his uniform and headed for the PT room when two rookies walked into the east end of the state-of-the-art locker-room and training facility. He was out of their line of vision, but had no trouble hearing their conversation. He paused, and took it all in. Every gut-wrenching word.

“Yeah, I heard he was faking the injury so he could keep getting paid.” Not sure who that was, but he sounded young.

“
C'mon Reese, Mav wouldn't do that to the team. He cares about us.” Sounded like Cameron, the phenom shortstop and power hitter the team had recently signed.

“Screw that shit. Maverick's only in it for himself and the endorsement money. He's not going to ‘fess up' to anything.”

“You're such an asshole, Reese. You don't know him any better than I do. But I've watched him play since he started his career in Boston. He's one of the good guys. Did I ever tell you I met him once before? It was after a game against the Mustangs when I was playing American Legion in Dallas,” Cameron said.

Well, at least one of them seemed to like him, Maverick thought.

“Whoop-d-shit. So he signed a ball for you. Big effing deal.”

Cameron was right, Reese was an asshole. He never did like the leftfielder.

“Look, man, all I know is that Maverick Jansen took time out to not only sign a ball, but he asked about me. If I played, what position. Who I wanted to play for in the Bigs. Not a lot of pros do that, yah know. And another thing, he's the best damn pitcher there ever was as far as I'm concerned. He'll get it back. I feel it. I see the determination on his face when he throws.”

“Cameron, you're living in a dream world as much as he is. If he hasn't rehabbed by now, it's not gonna happen. I'm putting my money on Yagasaki to throw out the first ball come opening day. Now there's a pitcher,” Reese declared.

Maverick was wrong. Reese wasn't an asshole. He was a fucking asshole. The conversation faded as they made their way back out of the clubhouse.

Hero worship. Damn rookie. Brock Cameron might be surprised to know Maverick actually remembered that encounter. He'd remembered it after Cameron was drafted and mentioned Mav by name when he was being interviewed by one of the TV networks a few
weeks
back. Yeah, hero worship was great—in theory, but it set his fans up for all types of disappointment.