Worth the Trade (More Than A Game) (34 page)

Dempsey sat back in the booth and laughed loudly enough that the nearby patrons looked their way.

“She made me.” He chuckled, softly this time. “She forced me to buy her out. But she had a condition. The sale is only valid if I sign you to a minimum five-year deal.”

“You’re kidding.” Maybe Marco had been too hasty in dismissing his agent. Surely he’d know if such a condition was even legal.

“Nope. If I fail to sign you, the sale is null and void.” Dempsey seemed a little too pleased with the idea.

“So I won’t sign. End of story. She gets her team back and everybody wins.” Marco sat back, folding his arms over his chest. No way was he going to let Hunter give up her team.

“No. No one wins if you do that.”

Marco gave him a puzzled look.

“She wants this.” Dempsey leaned forward. “Believe me when I say she thought long and hard before making this deal.”

“But she loves this team.” This made no sense. She loved the Goliaths, yet she was willing to let them go. Did she love him, too? Even though she walked away?

“Yes. And she knows that having you in left field for the next five years or more is the best thing for everyone.”

“Not for her.” Marco uncrossed his arms. Rested his hands on his thighs. “I can’t do it. I can’t take away everything she’s worked for.”

“But it’s what she wants.” Dempsey sounded so calm. Like he made negotiations like this every day. “She made that very clear.”

“She may think it’s what she wants, but come spring training, she’ll be sorry. She’ll miss it too much.” Marco couldn’t do that to her.

“You care about her?”

“I can’t let her give this up for me.” Marco raked his hands through his hair. “I love her.”

“Son, you’re going to cost me a lot of money.” The other man shook his head. “Whatever your next contract is, I’ll owe her.”

“I won’t sign another contract.” Marco placed his hands flat on the table. “I can’t play anywhere else.”

“Yet you’re refusing to play here.”

The waitress arrived with their breakfast, giving Marco a chance to douse his eggs in hot sauce. He took a few bites, trying to think. Was he really ready to give up on baseball? The game he’d played since he was six?

“What if I take a lesser deal?” Maybe there was a win-win for all of them. “Say three or four years. That way, she doesn’t lose her team, you don’t lose your money and…and I can keep playing.”

“So you do want to play ball. Good. That’s good.” He cocked a bushy white eyebrow. “But what about when your contract is up? She’ll have to go through this agony all over again. Questions about your relationship will resurface. Not to mention the other players that come along. People will wonder if she’s choosing players based on their talent, or something else. You don’t want to put her through that do you?”

“No.” Marco hated the pain he’d caused her, simply by loving her. “But if she’s my wife, no one would dare say anything.”

“Your wife?”

“Yes. I don’t know why we’re sitting here debating over a four or five year deal, when what I really want is a lifetime.” There. He’d thought about it. Come to a conclusion. And now all he had to do was figure out how to make it happen.

“You really love her?” Dempsey held his poker face.

“Yes. Now tell me how I can convince her that I can’t live without her.”

“Sign the contract. Five years. Or more.” He cracked a smile. “She was thinking you’re good for another seven, but she wanted to give you some negotiating room.”

“Five years should do it. Let’s see the contract.”

Fifteen minutes later, the deal was done. Marco Santiago would finish his playing career in San Francisco. He hoped he’d done the right thing.

“One more thing.” Marvin Dempsey folded the contract up after the hotel’s on-site notary service had made it official, and placed it in his briefcase. “I’m getting older. Thinking about retiring someday. But my kids don’t love baseball. They like the game, don’t get me wrong, but they don’t love it.”

“I suppose some people don’t.” Marco wasn’t sure why he was getting a lesson on family preferences.

“Well, I wouldn’t feel right about giving Hunter’s team to someone who wouldn’t take care of it.” Dempsey nodded. “So I was thinking of gifting back her share, say ten percent for every wedding anniversary.”

“That’s very generous of you, but I’m planning on sticking around long term. You’ll end up with nothing in about ten years.”

“Exactly.” He leaned forward, a twinkle in the old man’s eye. “I drew up the contract so that she’d get everything she deserves. You. The team. She’ll be a minority owner as long as you’re playing, so all that political stuff won’t be an issue. Then when you retire, you’ll help her run the team. Think you can do that?”

“Yes, sir. Just one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know where she is,” Marco admitted. “If I’m going to marry the woman, I need to find her first.”

“Ahh, yes. I must be getting old. Minor details starting to slip.”

“So?” He needed to see her. To hear it from her that she wanted this.

“Try Paris.”

“Paris, Texas?” He’d lived there for a time as a kid. Fourth grade, or maybe it was fifth.

“No. Paris, France. She mentioned something about wanting to look at art.” Dempsey shrugged. “Don’t ask me why.”

“I’ve got to get to the airport.” Marco stood and started for the exit. He took a deep breath and turned around, extending a hand toward his future wife’s former partner. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Good luck, son. But I don’t think you’ll need it.” Dempsey sent him off with a wink and a smile.

* * * *

Hunter’s flight was delayed. Just what she needed, more time to sit in the airport thinking about how she was making a huge mistake running away from Marco. She’d already had more coffee than she could stomach, but it was a little early for a drink.

She walked over to the bar, if only to kill some time. Maybe she could talk herself into a mimosa. How was she going to fill her days, if she was already having trouble with an extra hour?

She glanced up at the TV over the bar. They were showing highlights of last night’s game. Bryce Baxter’s home run, Johnny Scottsdale’s eleven strikeouts, and Marco Santiago’s spectacular catch in left field that killed the only rally Texas had all night.

Did she really think that running off to another country was going to do her or Marco any good? She wanted to give him the space to take care of his contract business, and then what? If she’d been smart she would have left a ticket to Paris for Marco so he could join her. Now that she wasn’t president of the San Francisco Goliaths, she had nothing better to do. Did she really want to walk around Paris looking at art?

She’d rather be anywhere with Marco.

If he’d still have her.

She approached the counter at the gate.

“Excuse me,” Hunter made a decision. “I’d like to cancel my ticket for this flight.”

“I’m sorry for the continued delay.” The clerk tried to remain polite, but she’d been dealing with disgruntled passengers for the last forty-five minutes. “If you’ll just be patient with us for little bit longer, we’ll be boarding shortly.”

“It’s not that.” Hunter gave the poor woman a sympathetic smile. “I’ve decided not to go to Paris, for personal reasons.”

The clerk reluctantly took Hunter’s boarding pass, her shoulders slumping when she saw it was a first class ticket.

“I know it’s extra work for you, and I apologize for that.” Hunter didn’t want special treatment, she just wanted to get out of there. “But I can’t get on this flight. I can’t leave… I can’t leave him.”

The clerk sighed. “It will take me a few minutes to process your request. In the meantime, you are welcome to make yourself comfortable in the lounge.”

“Sure. I’ll be right over there.” Hunter made her way over to the bar. The TV was still tuned to ESPN, but instead of highlights of last night’s game, they showed a teaser shot of none other than Clayton Barry before cutting to a commercial.

She ordered a drink and sat down, wondering what bad news awaited her next.

“Could you turn that up?” She offered a generous tip along with her request.

The bartender pocketed the cash and turned up the volume.

Hunter took a sip of her tequila sunrise. A mimosa wasn’t going to cut it.

The studio reporter gave a quick overview of the FITNatural scandal before cutting to a live feed from the commissioner’s office. Clayton Barry stood in front of the building, a briefcase in his hand, and a weary expression on his face.

“Mr. Barry, can you tell me if your involvement with FITNatural will cast a shadow over the San Francisco Goliaths’ recent World Series victory?” The reporter shoved a microphone in his face.

“The Goliaths earned their victory.” Barry stood tall, almost defiant. “They have every reason to be proud of all they’ve accomplished.”

“Surely the involvement of an owner in the biggest PED scandal can only cast doubt over the four game sweep.”

“First of all, my investment in what I believed to be a legitimate nutrition and fitness company was one hundred percent personal.” Barry straightened his tie. “I made the mistake of not fully investigating the nature of the business. I was led to believe the company was legitimate, and because of school ties and a misguided sense of loyalty, I provided capital with hope of return on my investment.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t know you were providing steroids to the very players you held the contracts on?”

“I was a minority investor in the Goliaths’ baseball team. I was mostly a silent partner, meaning my involvement was purely financial. I have since sold my share to long-standing partner Marvin Dempsey.”

“So you dumped your share of the team in the wake of this scandal?”

Hunter took a long drink, maybe she should get on the plane to Paris after all. That way she wouldn’t feel like she’d let her father down. And her team. And the entire city of San Francisco.

“No. I sold my share for personal reasons.” He ran his hand through what was left of his hair. “My wife has filed for divorce. Rather than drag the team and the fans through our personal problems, I wanted to do the right thing. I sold my share because cash is so much easier to divvy up.”

“So your partners aren’t involved in FITNatural?”

“No. They are not.” Clayton looked directly into the camera. Almost as if he was looking right at Hunter. “I made a mistake, and I truly regret that my association has cast a shadow on the team. I felt honored to work with Henry Collins, Marvin Dempsey and most recently, Hunter Collins. If I was half the man she is… Well, I wouldn’t be here today, giving my testimony to the commissioner’s office in hopes of cleaning up the game.”

He nodded toward the camera, and then turned to head inside.

Hunter finished her drink, almost feeling sorry for Clayton Barry. But right now he was the least of her worries. She needed to get to Marco. To let him know that sometimes love was enough.

Thirty minutes later, she stood on the curb, looking for the car she’d ordered to take her back to the hotel. And hopefully back to Marco.

A sleek black limo pulled to a stop in front of her. The driver jumped out and took her suitcase. He opened the passenger door and Hunter got in.

“Oh, Marco, you scared me!”

* * * *

“You scared me, too.” Marco’s heart beat rapidly. “I was afraid I’d lost you.”

“You found me.” God, she was beautiful. Her hair was messy, like she’d been tossing and turning all night. She’d tried to contain it in a loose ponytail, but several strands had escaped, framing her face like a halo. “How did you find me?”

“Marvin Dempsey.” Marco wanted to reach for her. To pull her onto his lap. Like he’d wanted to do the very first time he’d met her. “We met this morning.”

“Good. I’m glad.” She gazed down at the floor. “So, how was your meeting?”

“I accepted the offer. But Hunter…” He reached for her hand. “I can’t believe you gave up your team. For me.”

“Don’t be silly. I did it for the team.” She looked up at him, and he could see how much it cost her to give it up. “They need you.”