A Very Daring Christmas (The Tavonesi Series Book 8) (7 page)

Baseball was entertainment, his agent had reminded him before their meeting with Nike the previous day. Jake hadn’t argued—there hadn’t been time. But deep in his heart he knew that for the true fans, baseball was so much more than entertainment. Baseball connected people across class lines, across political and religious lines too. Mere entertainment couldn’t do that.

Light poured from the floor-to-ceiling windows of the gallery, along with the buzz of voices. A crowd of stylishly dressed people was already sipping drinks and admiring the painted metal artwork on the walls when Jake walked in. Art receptions weren’t his thing, but he’d promised his teammate Kaz that he’d visit his sister’s exhibit. Kaz and his wife, Sabrina—another famous actress—were in Japan for a family wedding and a trip into the countryside to visit relatives. Family visits and vacations had to be crammed into the offseason along with all the other details that came in second to baseball.

A gallery attendant tried to take Jake’s black leather jacket, but he waved him off. Coat checks were another bother he preferred to avoid. He’d probably need the jacket—the air conditioning was cranked up so high that he was sure that with another notch or two, he’d be able to see his breath.

He saw a woman he’d dated when he’d been on the road in LA with the Giants. They’d had three dates—his limit. They’d had fun. And from the looks of the guy she was batting her eyes at, she’d found someone else who interested her. Fine with him. He’d never been one to be jealous. That was a benefit of keeping clean boundaries, which ensured he could steer clear of sticky emotions that could glom up a good time.

He ordered a whiskey from the bar and wandered to the back of the gallery, where the crowd was thinner.

And did a double take.

The woman peering at the description next to one of the works of art tossed her head as she straightened to study the burnished-metal painting. He knew that move. He knew those curves.

He strode across the room and stood just behind Cameron, close enough that he could smell the meadow-fresh scent he’d tried to put out of his mind for the past two weeks.

“I’m told that the artist is one of the few people in the world to work metallurgy with color,” he said softly.

Cameron stiffened and whirled to face him.

“Sneaking up on people is a dangerous activity in this town. Perhaps no one told you
that
.”

He grinned at the fluster showing in her face. And knew he hadn’t imagined her interest in him. A plan formed in his mind. He had a few days to kill in LA. Spending time with Cameron would make his stay much more—the fantasies he’d had of her kicked into high gear—well, he’d see how much more of what she’d make his stay. Being with her would certainly be a more interesting way to spend the evenings. If she was amenable, he’d give her a few good memories too. He knew how to please a woman, enjoyed bringing pleasure.

“I didn’t know you liked art,” he said.

“There’s a world of things that you don’t know about me.”

Her words were defensive, but her tone and the sparkle in her eyes said bring it on.

“I’d like to find out more.”

He didn’t touch her; he wanted the next move to be hers. He never pushed. He had a sister and had learned early to respect women’s boundaries. But he sure as hell wanted an invitation to cross into Cameron’s world for a short time. He tamped down the energy rising in him, but he couldn’t ignore that it felt stronger than usual.

A man stepped up beside her. He had one of those golden-boy LA tans and a flashing smile. Ignoring Jake, the man took Cameron by the arm.

“We will
absolutely
be late for dinner. La Reve will only hold our table for ten minutes. Even for you, darling.”

Cameron peered up at Jake from under her lashes. Backlit by the lights in the gallery, she looked every inch the movie star. “Trevor, this is Jake. We met while I was working on the UNICAN project in Dominia.”

Only then did the guy give Jake a quick nod and a perfunctory “Nice to meet you.”

Trevor looped his fingers around Cameron’s. “We need to head out. Traffic is insane. And Bernard has promised us his best table.”

Jake stepped back. Competition was one thing, rudeness was another. Trevor wouldn’t last five minutes in the South. But Jake wanted a date with Cameron, golden boy or no golden boy. Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Snapped a photo of the artwork behind Cameron.

“I’ll text that shot to you and a couple others from the show,” he told a rather astonished-looking Cameron. “Looks like you won’t have much time to study them tonight.” He fingered to the next screen. “I don’t seem to have you in here.”

She smiled, pulled her hand from Trevor’s and took Jake’s phone from his hand. “Thanks. I’d appreciate having them.”

Was it his imagination or did her fingers linger against his just a second longer than they had to? And had that brief contact actually sent a shot of adrenaline straight through him?

She tapped the screen of his phone, then handed it back. “I tried to fit too much in today; it’s a terrible habit. I’d love to have a few images from tonight.”

Trevor tugged at her arm. “Cam, really. Let’s hit it.”

His annoyed tone grated in Jake’s ears. A self-centered guy like Trevor was never good for a woman long term. Certainly not a woman with the spine and heart that Cameron had. Who she spent her time with wasn’t any of his business, but Trevor rubbed him the wrong way all the same.

Jake put two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute. “Better hit it, then.”

He watched her until she was out of sight and then pocketed his phone. Date number one was a sure thing.

After congratulating Kaz’s sister on her artwork and snapping a few photos to send to Cameron, Jake headed back to his hotel. He waited until the next morning to send the shots he took of the amazing artwork. In the message accompanying the photos, he asked Cameron if she’d like to meet up.

When his phone rang not five minutes later, he tripped over his shoes in his hurry to reach it.

“I owe you,” Cameron said.

He couldn’t tell if she was being serious or pulling his chain. Right then, either would do.

“So you do.”

“I’m thinking at the level of a walk on the beach,” she said. “There’s a surf contest near the Manhattan Beach Pier. I’ve always wanted to see one, and a friend is competing.”

“I was thinking dinner.” Dinner and a candlelight cocktail on his balcony and—

“This is LA, Jake. Dinners are precious. I don’t owe you that much,” she said with a laugh.

Chapter Six

The next morning Cameron changed clothes three times before settling on a pair of white capris and a coral T-shirt. She picked up a tube of lipstick, stared at it, and then drew the deep poppy color across her lips.

Ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. But it had been ages since she’d looked forward to seeing a man as much as she was looking forward to seeing Jake.

She gathered her hair into a ponytail and then slathered on a thick layer of sport sunscreen, all the while trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in her stomach.

Jake’s sexy smile at the gallery opening had led to hot and surprising late-night fantasies. And the dreams of Jake that had followed had illuminated a frustration she hadn’t wanted to cop to. Both had kindled a keen awareness in the dark place she hadn’t visited since breaking it off with shiny-boy Elliott. She might not want a man in her life, at least not permanently, but a deep sense of something missing had left permanent tracks in her mind and an ache in her body.

With a groan, she tossed the tube of sunscreen into her beach bag. Her good sense had evidently abandoned her and gone on vacation with Sabrina. She fingered her phone and considered texting her friend. Sabrina always was good counsel, and with her brother and husband playing on the same team as Jake, Sabrina could give her the scoop. But then she remembered that Sabrina was in some remote hermitage in Japan with Kaz. And besides, since Sabrina had to fly back early for PR duties, she’d see her in two weeks.

And no amount of sleuthing was going to settle the butterflies.

She rechecked her makeup in the mirror and considered applying another layer of lipstick. She’d bought the bright color on Thanksgiving Day. Wandering a mall hadn’t been her first choice for celebrating the holiday, but she hadn’t felt like spending the day with the families of local friends. Besides, she’d made the clerk at the department store really happy by making good use of the lonely morning and stocking up on essentials. She stared at her reflection. Two coats of red was too much. In the bright beach sunlight, she’d look like an escapee from a mental ward. Jake would think she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. She swiped the color from her lips and replaced it with a soft rose-petal pink.

She grabbed a wide-brimmed straw hat, donned her sunglasses and headed for the back door that led to the garage. With any luck, photographers wouldn’t be camped out in the street. Since the release of new movies over the weekend, the photo mob had moved on to the stars of those films. New releases made better tabloid fodder. Thank God.

She circled the block adjacent to the beach twice before she found a parking spot just south of the pier. Armed with a bottle of water and a pair of binoculars, she cut through the rollerbladers and tourists and headed to the picnic tables overlooking the beach.

Jake sat at one of the picnic benches, wearing a plain black cap and sunglasses. But he was hardly incognito—she’d recognize the cut of his jaw and those biceps anywhere. The shadow of a beard intensified his rugged good looks.

He waved and stood. Evidently she wasn’t as well-disguised as she’d thought.

“I didn’t even know you could buy a cap without some sort of logo or brand on it these days,” she said as she reached him.

Her weak attempt at a joke probably didn’t disguise the cells in her body screaming for her to kiss him. But hey, a girl had to try. Against her better judgment, she was letting him under her radar. If she was going to pay later, and she knew she would if her good sense abandoned her, she might as well make him work for every kiss.

He laughed. “Hello to you too.”

“I always find that the logos distract people. Very helpful in avoiding paparazzi.” Whoa, she was blathering. Not good. So much for making him work. If she didn’t get a grip and fast, all he’d have to do was crook a finger and she’d be in his lap.

“I’m not one for wearing advertising on my body,” he said.

The one thing he didn’t have to advertise was his outrageous sensuality. The hint of beard along his chiseled jaw and the muscles bulging under the knit polo shirt were like magnets for women. Even the usually self-focused Rollerblading queens slowed as they skated by him.

But his comment reminded her of his refusal to help with the UNICAN project. That put a damper on her fire.

“The contest starts in about half an hour.” Even dampened, she had to fight the fire to keep her voice level and smooth. Acting had taught her some useful skills.

He grabbed a soft-sided cooler from the bench beside him. “I brought a few picnic items.”

A guy who packed a
picnic
? She was not going to swoon. Absolutely not. Hadn’t she been buffaloed by similar tactics? Okay, Elliott’s were champagne and roses, nights at the opera and tickets to see her favorite bands. But once he’d caught her, once he had lured her in and locked up her heart, he’d continued his philandering ways. Jake was a playboy in the same vein. A player. A
player
. She repeated the phrase in her mind even as she smiled and said, “That’s so thoughtful.”

“Thoughtful?” He grinned. “Nope. Practical. I need protein every three hours right now. Got a big season coming up, and I’m in training.”

She was not going to be duped by the delicious sight of his grin. And imagining him training shot images of muscles and sweat and—wow, just wow. She needed to get a grip. Maybe a year off from sex had damaged her brain.

“Can I carry anything?” She dangled her hand in front of her.

“Just this.”

He handed her a rolled-up blanket.

“Not one for sand in my food,” he said. “Especially not in fried chicken. Really gritty.”

She’d never spent any time in the South, but Jake’s soft drawl crawled into her brain and then melted through her body like dew running down a flower petal.

“How about here?” He gestured to a spot about four hundred yards from the judges station, up against a cliff that shaded them from the sun. “We can walk over and catch the contest after we eat.”

“Perfect. I brought binoculars.”

He paused from shaking out the blanket. “Must be nice to use those yourself rather than having them trained on you.”

“You have no idea.”

“I might.” He spread out the blanket. “But it’s different. I don’t think baseball fans want a piece of
me
. They just want me to play like hell.”

A lone jogger ran by down at the tideline. Noise filtered from the north where a crowd gathered for the surf contest. Except for a couple with a young son and a puppy who had set up their blanket a bit farther up the beach, they had the small piece of heaven to themselves.

Jake began to empty the contents of the cooler onto the blanket. “Can’t say that this chicken is up to Southern standards, but it looked good enough.”

“I can’t believe you packed a picnic.”

The grin he shot her as he unloaded potato salad, a huge jug of lemonade and chocolate-chip cookies shouldn’t have taken her breath away.

“I’m told food speaks a universal language. Thought we could try it. I’ve never been great with words.”

Fighting to stay centered, she reached into the cooler and drew out a plastic container, opened the lid. “What’s this?”

The corner of his lips tipped up into a lopsided grin. “Fried okra, thanks to an Internet search and a very willing concierge. She gave me directions to a diner not five blocks from the hotel.”

Cameron took the plastic fork he held out and speared a bite. The crunchy texture followed by a delicate, moist center and a delicious burst of savory flavor was unlike anything she’d ever tasted.