Curveball (5 page)

“Yeah. It’ll keep me laughing until the day I die. Which, thanks to you, could be
any minute.” Cat compared the frozen navigation map to the street signs. “That’s it
in front of us.”

“Hello,
Avenida Mirador del Este
.” Paige rounded the corner at top speed.

“Slow down, Danica Patrick, we need to take the first left.”

“Who?” Paige turned her head toward Cat.

“There!” Cat pointed. “The road.”

Paige whipped her head back to the road and made the immediate turn. The brakes barked
to a stop in front of a huge brick complex. Like the neighboring buildings, it was
decorated for the season with festive wreaths on the doors and garland-trimmed windows.

She threw the car in park and turned the engine off, as nonchalant as a small town
cabbie. “Hey, that’s Joe.” She waved at the large man wearing blue suit pants and
matching suspenders over his dress shirt and striped tie. “Perfect timing, huh?”

Cat fumbled for the door handle, anxious to get away from the roofless two-door scythe
and the glamorous five-foot-nine reaper who wielded it between her manicured nails.
She hurried around the car, and found she could only escape one of them.

“McDee, get over here and meet Joe. He and my dad are old friends. They were in the
minors together.”

Cat made a useless attempt to smooth her windblown hair as she approached the heavyset
scout. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m looking forward to having you here for the next three weeks.” He spoke
with a friendly Great Lakes accent that she found to be a comforting reminder of home.
His voice was comically high in contrast with his football player height and yard
line width. “You ladies find the place all right?”

Before Cat could blurt out the truth, Paige butted in. “Easy peasy.”

“Great, great. The hotel you’ll be staying at is just down the road and they’ll have
your luggage ready for you when you check in. Ready for the grand tour of the facilities?”

Paige whipped out her cell phone. “Let me just send a real quick text.” When she saw
Joe’s eyebrows lower, she added, “To my dad. I want to let him know we got here safely.”

“Oh. Well then, of course.”

Cat rolled her eyes.

Twenty days, eighteen hours, thirty-seven minutes to go.

An Insider’s Guide to Training Camp: Week 1

Greetings from Sunny Santo Domingo, home of the Buffalo Soldiers’ Training Camp. As
many true fans know, there's more to these thirty acres than palm trees—this camp
serves as the Caribbean headquarters where players with professional potential are
scouted and trained.

First, a look at the facility: 15,000 square feet with two playing fields, an all-weather
track, four batting cages for the sluggers and four bullpen training mounds for the
throwers. Joe O’Donnell, head scout, was our guide for the initial tour. “Our newest
addition are a complete gym, a live pitching simulator and ESL classrooms,” Joe added.

Next up, a quick tour of the dormitories, air-conditioned double rooms that are sheer
luxury compared to what most players enjoy ....

Cat was embarrassed to admit it—and would only do so under some form of torture—but
she was woefully unimpressed by the facility. Joe had bragged about every feature
as though it was designed and built by his own kin. Despite the “luxurious” dorms
and the remodel, the facility still lacked the glitz and glamour of Hohenschwangau
Stadium and the Las Vegas Chips. She reminded herself that this wasn’t a major league
ballclub’s home; it was a scouting joint that was occasionally used by the professionals
during the offseason.

And a small market club at that. Even the Buffalo Soldiers Dome hadn’t been able to
compete with her former club’s home.

“It’s nice.” She offered the proud scout her best smile. She had repeated the lie
as they’d strolled through the fields, the gym and now into the office.

Nice, good, lovely, neat, nifty, bitchin’.

She was running out of praise.

So Buffalonians, put another log on the fire and get ready to plan a trip down to
the Caribbean for your own personal tour of this world class facility. With unique
fitness programs, unsurpassed trainers and top-of-the-line equipment, the Soldiers
have spared no expense for their future phenoms.

Joe finished the tour in a large office just down the hallway from the lobby. With
papers strewn across every table and desk, it looked like a post-tornado Kinkos.

“My office is just off this room.” He pointed to a slab door behind one of the desks.
“This was originally the coaches’ office, but since they built the addition across
the street, it’s been used as interim storage. You and Paige will work out of this
area. Ms. McDaniel—”

“Cat, please.”

“Cat. I’ll put you at the desk by the window so you can see your players on the field.
Since Ms. Aiken will be working as my assistant, I’ll give her the desk by my door.”

“They don’t believe in cranking the AC, huh?” Unlike Cat, Paige had made no attempt
to hide her disdain for the facility, from the patchy grass on the fields to the archaic
treadmills in the gym.

“You get used to it, trust me. Still better than Buffalo’s sub-zero temps, right?”

“I guess.”

Paige scooted onto her makeshift desk and crossed her legs. She snuck her cell phone
out of her purse as Joe continued his rundown of day-to-day operations. Cat admonished
her with a glare to which Paige stuck out her tongue.

“You’ll be on your own a lot because I’m in and out of the office all the time. Like
today, I’ve got to monitor a catching prospect at the
Aida Cartagena Portalatin Escuela
game. Do you think you can file these while I’m gone?”

“
No problemo
.” She looked up at Cat with a smile. “Hey, look at that, I’m already getting the
hang of this
Español
thing.”

Joe nodded as he grabbed his car keys. He examined the room one more time before he
shut the door. “Again, Paige, if you need anything—”

“I’ll call. Don’t worry, boss man. This is going to work out great.” He tossed her
a wave and turned out the door. Paige scurried to the doorway and watched him walk
down the hallway. When she saw him turn the corner, she whirled around and grabbed
the file box. She walked over to the cabinets and opened the bottom drawer. She happily
found it empty and turned the box upside down, emptying its contents into the drawer.
She smiled and slammed the cabinet shut, smacking her palms together triumphantly.

Cat watched the show in disbelief. “Paige.”

“What?” Paige cocked her head. “Come on, Warden. It’s my first day. I should be getting
the lay of the land, not singing my ABCs in some dank office.”

“You are his assistant.” Cat walked over the file cabinet and opened the drawer. “Assist.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I’m a reporter.” She took a recorder out of her purse. “I plan to report.” She tapped
the file cabinet with her foot. “Just do your job. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Cat walked out of the room and down the hallway, basking in the silence that wasn’t
Paige Aiken. She had recognized the young man lifting weights during the tour of the
gym as Antonio Peña—a top prospect for the Soldiers—and wanted to snag an interview
for a blog posting.

Paige rolled her eyes. They just got here and already Cat was kissing ass. She’d never
understand how some people could show so much interest in every aspect of the game
that made the Aikens millionaires, but she thanked God that they did. That is, until
it interfered with her plans. The minute McDee’s rumpled skirt was no longer in sight,
Paige kicked the drawer shut with her Christian Louboutin platform pumps, a going-away
present from daddy’s credit card. She scribbled on a Post-It and looked for a place
on the cluttered desk to stick it, deciding on the closed laptop. Then she grabbed
her purse and trotted out the door, heading straight for the exits.

Thanks to her cell phone’s navigation, Paige had no problem finding
La Concha Gran Hotel
and subsequently, the last beach chair available on its private beach. She unzipped
the silk Dolce & Gabana dress that had been disguising an equally stunning cherry-printed
bikini and kicked off her French heels. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she
closed her eyes. She was nearly asleep when her sun underwent an eclipse. She opened
her left eye and squinted from behind her Ray Bans. A man lurched over her, his two-toned
DaVinci button-up blowing off his ripped, pale chest in the light breeze. She lifted
her sunglasses down the bridge of her button nose. “Can I help you?”

“I believe you’re in my chair.”

“Didn’t see your name on it.”

The man squatted down, resting his elbows on his linen pants. “Now, how do you know
that? You don’t even know my name. More importantly, I don’t know yours.”

Her dark eyes traveled from his tanned chest to the ruby lips that stretched over
his white, white teeth. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and gave
him an equally charming smile.

“I know it didn’t have your name on it because it already said ‘Reserved for Paige.’
”

“Did it now?” He pushed the wavy strands of blond hair off his forehead. “I could’ve
sworn it said ‘Chance Haywood’s lounge chair, no trespassing.’ ”

“Nope.” She licked her succulent lips like they were covered with drizzled caramel
and she wanted to savor every last drop of the sweet syrup. It was her trademark flirt
and it drove guys crazy.

His smile was positively feral. “Well, who am I to argue with such a lovely lady?”

“Glad we cleared that up.”

“So tell me, Paige, what brings you to Santo Domingo? Vacation? Modeling? Random chair
commandeering?”

She giggled. “Baseball.”

Chance cocked his head. “Seriously?”

She nodded.

“Well, isn’t it a small island? I happen to be one of the city’s best sports agents.”

“Oh really?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I’ve never heard of you and I’ve
been doing this job for a whole hour.”

“I guess I’m losing my touch.” His hazel eyes twinkled. “Must be all these lost hours
at the beach.”

She leaned back in her chair and whipped her sunglasses off her head, letting her
hair fall back in her face. “That’ll do it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I was busy basking
in this very comfortable chair.”

“Oh I understand completely, but I have a problem.”

Paige knew he was fishing, but bit anyway. “What is it?”

He shook the empty glass in his hand. The melted ice cubes made a final desperate
rattle before disintegrating. “My Mojito is dangerously low.”

“So?”

“So the bar’s clear over there. I’ll never make it by myself.”

Paige bit her lip as the infamous furrowed brow of Roger Aiken flashed through her
head. “I shouldn’t. It’s my first day and if I don’t go back later this afternoon,
I’m going to catch hell.”

“Aw, come on. Sports agent and a baseball scout? We can call it a business meeting.”

Paige studied him. He wasn’t dark, but she could put two big checkmarks next to both
tall and handsome. He had a roman nose and the cleft chin of a movie star, plus she
could give him bonus points for the DaVinci. They only retailed for about fifty, but
they were a Charlie Sheen fave and not bad for beachwear. Plus, he wore a genuine
Ro around his wrist—she’d spotted the tiny dots in the Triplock crown seal when he
shook his glass. As far as dinner companions go, he would do.

“I guess.”

“I’ll even use it for a tax write-off.” He gave her a playful wink and she let another
tiny giggle pass her lips.

“Let me just grab my stuff.” She picked up her cell phone first, frowning at the six
missed calls. Number seven began to vibrate before she’d put the phone in her purse.
She groaned and answered it, well aware of the bitching that awaited her. “Hey McDee.”

“Paige! Where the hell are you?”

“I’m on assignment, boss.”

Chance whispered behind her, “Hey babe, you ready to pound sand?”

Cat gasped into the phone. “Are you at the beach?”

“I’m meeting with a very influential agent. This is how business gets done down here.”

“Is it?” The phone was quiet. Cat either officially stroked out or was thinking, neither
of which spelled fun for Paige.

“You know, since I’m so new to all of this, maybe I better sit in on the meeting.”

Paige had to smile. He may not have known it, but Daddy had found someone almost as
underhanded as she. “Well, you’re welcome to join us. Chance, what’s the restaurant
called?” She held the phone out to his mouth.

“La Tambora.”

Paige brought the phone back to her head. “It’s right next to our hotel.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

As she hung up, Paige began to chuckle. She was almost sorry she’d miss seeing the
expression McDee would have when she realized the convertible wasn’t in the training
facility parking lot.

“What’s so funny?” Chance extended a hand to help her up.

Paige bounded up and took a moment to enjoy the sand between her toes before accompanying
him. “Oh, nothing.” She skipped across the sand with a sigh of delight.

Headlights shined through the gray island mist. Fat raindrops splattered on the windshield,
swished away by the squeaking windshield wipers a second later. The taxi driver dropped
Cat off right at the front entrance to the beachside restaurant. She closed the door
and scanned the parking lot. She was sure that Paige had given her the slip and was
probably halfway to Punta Cana until she saw the Mustang in hotel parking lot next
door.

Before she could open the restaurant door, she heard a grunt and a thump. Cat pulled
her hand back and listened again. It was coming from the side of the restaurant. Careful
not to step outside the protection of the building's awning, she followed the sounds.
The kitchen door was propped open to the alley, where two young men were playing catch,
heedless of the light raindrops from above. The taller of the two threw his pitches
with control and velocity, whereas the other player served as his catcher and merely
lobbed the ball back to him. Cat felt like a Peeping Tom, watching the two around
the corner without announcing herself, but she was fascinated by the pitcher’s form.
It wasn’t perfect—in fact, it would make most coaches cringe—however, it was clear
from his trunk lean that he’d had some training. His pitches smacked the leather mitt
with a resounding thud. She didn’t have a radar gun, but they looked to be at least
ninety miles per hour. A shout came from the kitchen and the boys snapped their heads
up and scurried back through the door. Cat slipped back around the corner and entered
the restaurant through the double doors.