Fastball (5 page)

Jake motioned to the waiter. Since it
was
supposed to be a business meeting, she thought about
ordering a coke or mineral water. But she opted instead for a glass
of Sauvignon blanc, secretly acknowledging she could use a drink to
settle her nerves. Jake ordered a bottle and Maddie retrieved her
digital recorder, placing it on the table between them.

“Okay to start?” she said.

He leaned back, elbows resting on the arms of
his chair, fingers laced in an easy grip. “Fire when ready,” he
replied, looking totally relaxed. Maddie had never met a man who
seemed more comfortable in his own skin, and it had the effect of
easing her own nervous tension.

You can do this. Just stick to the prepared
questions and you’ll be fine.

A deep breath and she launched into her
questions. “Jake, I’m sure you must be expecting that I’ll want you
to talk about the progress of your recovery from the ankle
surgery,” she said rather formally for the benefit of the recorder.
“About your expectations for this season and so on. I do want to
talk about all that, but we can get to those things later, if
that’s all right.”

He arched his brows slightly. Good. She had
surprised him.

“I say that,” she continued, “because that
stuff isn’t really what I’m interested in for a feature piece.”

He unleashed one of those sexy smiles.
“Whatever you like, Maddie. I’m in your capable hands.”

It finally dawned on her just how much that
devastating smile contributed to his charm. His was an open and
honest face with chiseled features, and his easy, masculine grin
conveyed both mature intelligence and good humor. Maddie found it
disarmingly inviting.

She blinked, losing her bearings for just a
second before pulling it back together.

“Um, what I want to write about is what it’s
been like to be Jake Miller, ballplayer and man. What was it like
for you growing up? What were your hopes and dreams, and have you
fulfilled them yet? What your life is like now, both on and off the
field—who you’re close to, what inspires you, that sort of
thing.”

His sharp gaze narrowed on her, as if
assessing her intent. That irked her a bit, since she’d been
straight with him from the beginning. If someone at this table had
an ulterior motive for the evening, it sure as hell wasn’t her.

“You said you’d tell me what I wanted to
know. Well, that’s what I want to write about,” she said, defiantly
meeting his gaze. “I want my readers to know something about who
Jake Miller really
is
. I don’t want to simply feed them the
usual babble and athlete-speak that players and reporters always
trot out. That’s incredibly boring and we all know it.”

When she stopped talking, a short silence
fell over the table. Maddie reached over and clicked off the
recorder before lifting her eyes back to his face. “Look, Jake, I’m
even willing to let you see a draft of the article and talk about
it before I submit the final version to the paper. I don’t want you
to hold back because you think I’ll sandbag you somehow. That’s not
my style, and I think you know it. When this piece is ready to go,
my hope is that you’ll be as happy with it as I am.”

She held his gaze, praying she hadn’t made a
huge blunder by coming here. She couldn’t afford to offend him, but
she had a job to do and he needed to be clear on that. Whatever
else might be going on she could address later, after she got her
interview.

If
she got her interview.

Jake took a drink, his eyes narrowed in
concentration. She had to repress the temptation to fiddle with
something—always a dead giveaway whenever her insecurities rose to
the surface—but she vowed not to back down. She’d be willing to bet
that no other reporter had ever stated the matter so bluntly, or
under such unusual circumstances. He’d always made it clear to the
world that he was a very private person, rebuffing any attempt to
get him to talk about anything other than baseball. And although he
had a well-deserved reputation for being a gentleman, she knew Jake
had told more than one pushy reporter to mind his own damn
business. His personal life had
always
been out of bounds to
the press and the public.

As the silence between them lengthened, and
Jake’s inscrutable expression revealed nothing, the butterflies in
Maddie’s stomach took a synchronized nosedive. It looked like her
exclusive, ground-breaking interview would be over before it
started.

* * *

When Maddie first appeared in the restaurant,
Jake had figured “spectacular” was a safe adjective to use to
describe her appearance. He hadn’t said what he was really
thinking—that she was incredibly, mind-numbingly hot. In a bright
red and white outfit, she looked like a delectable, cherry-topped
dessert. Add in her sharp intelligence and hints of a sweet
vulnerability, and the lady was all but irresistible. Jake was
fervently hoping he’d get a chance to sample all that sweetness in
the very near future.

But now she’d thrown a spanner in the works,
and he very much doubted his standard answer to her request would
get him any closer to his goal. He never talked about his personal
life with any of the media hounds, and he wasn’t inclined to break
the habit. Still, as he studied her crystal blue gaze and open but
slightly defiant expression, all he could read was sincerity and
honesty. Maddie Leclair didn’t strike him as anything but what she
appeared to be, and his instincts told him to trust her, especially
since she was risking a lot by agreeing to meet him so
privately.

Go for it, dude.

Mentally shrugging, he decided to let her
sneak past his self-imposed boundaries. If the interview started to
go off the rails he’d pull her back, regardless of the impact on
his goals for the evening. “Let’s give it a try, Maddie. Just be
aware that I don’t find it easy to talk about those things to
anybody. I’m not particularly clever when it comes to talking about
myself, or my personal life.”

She blinked twice, as if she hadn’t expected
his answer. “I don’t want you to be clever, Jake,” she blurted out.
“That’s exactly what I
don’t
want. I want sincerity.”

Jake nodded. “Fine. I’m prepared to trust you
on this. So, you don’t have to clear a draft of the article with me
first, though I appreciate the offer.” He was going out on a limb
with this one, but his instincts rarely steered him wrong. Plus, he
had every expectation that his show of good faith would help him to
get a hell of a lot closer to her by the time the evening was
through.

Her delighted smile suggested he’d hit the
mark. “Jake, that’s wonderful. And I promise you can trust me. This
isn’t
60 Minutes
. I’m not trying to break some big network
story. I’d just like my readers to get to know the real Jake
Miller, that’s all.” She wrinkled her cute little nose. “If this
works, it works. If it doesn’t, then I’ll be writing about the
ankle and knees after all, I guess.”

He laughed. Her enthusiasm seemed so
disarmingly sincere that Jake found it hard to believe he couldn’t
trust her. Maybe he was being naïve, because he’d been burned a
couple of times early in his career by lying reporters. Not that
Maddie was your average sports reporter—not by a long shot. “Sounds
good. But now that we’ve established the ground rules, why don’t we
order dinner first? Then you can start on me right after.” And with
any luck, Jake would be starting in on
her
after she’d taken
her best shot at him.

After the waiter had taken their orders,
Maddie turned the recorder on again. “I’d like you to start by
telling me a little about what it was like for you growing up in
small-town Minnesota.”

He had no trouble with her easy first lob. “I
can start by saying that almost all the memories I have of growing
up are good ones. Not much angst, not a whole lot of drama. Mom and
Dad raised five kids on one income and gave us the best home they
possibly could. I’m the youngest, so of course everyone babied me.
It was a really nice small town where folks generally looked out
for each other.”

Jake paused, fully aware of how blessedly
ordinary his young life had been. “Some of my best memories are of
our big, family dinners. My grandma—Mom’s mom—would put one on at
her house every month. There were so many of us that we had to eat
in shifts. It was old-fashioned stuff, I guess, but I loved every
minute of it. Unfortunately, it’ll probably put your readers to
sleep. Unless they’re big fans of
The Waltons
.”

Maddie’s only response was a wistful smile
that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It made him wonder what her own
childhood had been like, and whether she envied his small town
upbringing.

“What else would you like to know?” he gently
prompted.

Her eyes widened and a faint blush tinged her
cheeks. “Tell me about the sports you played as a kid. Were you
always a natural at baseball? And what about other sports?”

That was an easy one, although a totally
honest answer would make him sound arrogant. “I was pretty good at
everything. I played it all—baseball, football, basketball, hockey,
curling. I was lucky enough to do well with all of them, especially
baseball. But I really liked hockey, too. I was offered a
scholarship to play hockey at the University of Minnesota, but
that’s a whole other story.”

“Wow,” she said, looking genuinely impressed.
“That’s pretty cool. But let’s stick with baseball for the moment.
Why did that top out everything else for you?”

“Because of my dad. He played lower level pro
ball in the minors in the sixties, but wasn’t quite good enough for
the majors. Dad taught me how to play the game right, and how to
prepare myself both physically and mentally. It’s because of him
that the scouts came to town to look at me even as a high school
junior, and that I was drafted by the Patriots in my senior year. I
really do owe it all to him.”

“What about your mother? Are you close to
her, too?”

Again, he heard that wistful note in her
voice, one that seemed to mirror what he felt whenever he thought
about his mom. “She’s the best. She raised five kids, made a
terrific home for her husband and family, volunteered at all kinds
of things, and could do anything with her hands. She remodeled the
bathroom, fixed plumbing, sewed clothes, knit sweaters, you name
it. I always thought there was nothing she couldn’t do.”

Maddie frowned. “Why do you say ‘was’?”

Sorrow pinged in his chest. Christ, he hated
talking about his feelings. But he’d let Maddie start this, so he
might as well finish it. “She’s been suffering from brutal
rheumatoid arthritis for over ten years. She doesn’t have much use
of her hands any more, and just getting around is harder every day.
In fact, everything is hard for her now because of the constant
pain.” And for all his wealth, and his ability to pay for the best
doctors and medications, there wasn’t a lot Jake could do to
relieve her suffering. He struggled with his grief over her decline
and his own frustration on a daily basis.

“But Dad has been fantastic,” he continued,
forcing a smile. He had no intention of coming off as Mr. Doom and
Gloom in this interview. His mom would give him hell if he did.
“He’s taken over everything. He cooks, cleans, does the
shopping…everything. My sisters and my sisters-in-law help out, and
I pay for whatever the stubborn old mule will let me. But it’s
really Dad who’s stepped up to the plate. He cares for her with
such patience and love, even though it’s really hard on him, too. I
think that kind of love and devotion over forty-five years of
marriage is pretty damn rare. At least it’s not something I’ve seen
that often, and I’ve had a fair amount of life experience to draw
upon.”

He clamped his mouth shut. Now he was
starting to sound like an ass, and a cynical one at that. Better to
quit before he dug a deeper hole.

Much to Jake’s surprise, Maddie wasn’t in a
hurry to break the silence between them. He stared at her,
intrigued by the emotions playing across her beautiful face in
response to his goofy ramblings. She seemed completely absorbed in
him, almost as if she’d forgotten they were in the middle of an
interview. When he’d explained about his mother’s illness, her
expression had conveyed a ton of genuine sympathy and concern. But
when he talked about his parents’ marriage, she had started looking
wistful again. Even a little sad, if he didn’t miss his guess.

What did she have to be sad about?

“I get that about your parents’
relationship,” she finally said in a soft voice. “My folks were
like that, too. Completely devoted to each other.”

He heard the pain in her voice. “
Were
like that?” he asked cautiously. “What happened?”

“My dad died young—at only fifty-seven. I was
fourteen at the time.” Her gaze slid down and she started to fiddle
with the buttons on the recorder. That seemed to be a
tell
for her—something she did when nerves got the better of her.

“What about siblings, or other family?” He
couldn’t imagine going through something like that without his
brothers and sisters and his huge extended family to lend
support.

Maddie looked up, her big blue eyes
darkening. “No. Just me and Mom.”

She looked so sad and lonely, and so freaking
beautiful, that it practically killed him not to touch her. He had
to fight the powerful urge to pull her into his lap and cradle her
against him, kissing her sweet, sorrowful mouth until the tragic
look in her eyes faded away.

Idiot. I barely know her.
“I’m sorry,
Maddie,” he said, knowing the words were inadequate for the loss
she’d suffered. “I’m glad you had your mom, though. You two must be
close.”

She drew in a sharp breath, as if some
terrible pain had lanced through her, deep in the core of her body.
For a moment she obviously waged some kind of internal battle, then
she regained her composure. Her gaze seemed to shutter and her
mouth set in a firm line.