Ms. Match (8 page)

Paul grabbed her hand as he slipped between a newscaster and her boom man. Even though she expected the cables, she almost tripped twice as they maneuvered through the tightly packed space.

He stopped right next to Dylan Hernandez, one of her favorite sportswriters, and waited while he interviewed Joe Torre.

Gwen tried to see everything at once. There were simply too many choices. Too many things she wanted to say to each of the players. Too big of a lump in her throat to even say boo.

The interview ended and Paul stepped right up to the Dodgers manager. “Joe, great game.”

Torre shook his hand. “How you doing, Paul.”

Gwen could hardly believe he was on a first name basis with the freakin’ manager.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet. I know it doesn’t sound possible, but she’s a bigger fan than I am.” Paul stepped to her side, put his hand on the small of her back to gently urge her forward. “This is Gwen Christopher. You have any questions about your team, I’ll bet the farm she knows the answer.”

She stuck out her hand and she supposed it was shaken, but she was too busy trying not to act like a doofus. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Sir? You call me Joe.”

They said some things, things she knew she would want to remember, but nothing was getting through. It was Paul who had Joe sign her program. Then it was Paul herding a bunch of players in her direction. Each of them seemed delighted to meet her. Of course, Paul made her sound like the greatest baseball expert in the history of the game, and she was frankly too shell-shocked to correct him.

In the end, she’d met almost the whole lineup; her program was so precious to her she’d save it from a fire before her best friend.

By the time he called for the limo, she felt drained, exhausted and so damn happy she was beside herself. The parking lot was mostly deserted, which made sense as the game had ended two hours ago.

She turned to Paul. “I—”

He nodded. “I know.”

“But—”

“I know.”

“And you—”

“Seriously. I completely understand.”

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. It was one of the greatest times of her life. It was…It was…She grabbed hold of his head, pulled him down and kissed him as if he was Elvis, George Clooney and Sandy Koufax, all rolled into one.

When she let him go, he seemed a little startled. Maybe more than a little. Which made her feel like an idiot and, dammit, why had she ruined this perfect—

“Well, damn,” he said, his sly grin growing. “You’re welcome.”

For a Monday, his day had gone well. In fact, it was the antithesis of last week. He’d gotten a prime gig for one of his sports clients, saved the internationally famous ass of one of his celeb clients and he’d had a phone call from his mother in Florida where they were actually pleasant to each other.

After work he’d gone to the gym. As he’d hit the showers he realized he didn’t want to go home and he didn’t want to go to a club. He wanted to play baseball trivia. With Gwen. If he could win twice…

They’d had a good time yesterday at the ballpark. And her friends hadn’t seemed to mind him crashing last week. If he didn’t get all high school about it, no one would think a thing. Besides, he had that gift for Gwen’s friend.

He moved another foot, then another, and for a few minutes there it looked as if he might make it in time to chat before the trivia began. But it being L.A. and it being a day ending in Y, traffic bogged down yet again.

He put on the radio, to the newest station on his rotation, National Public Radio. It had surprised him, how he’d gotten caught up in so many discussions that had nothing to do with the business. Tonight they were talking about happiness. A professor from Harvard had written a book on the subject. The program turned out to be interesting and if it hadn’t been so late when he got to Bats and Balls, he’d have listened to the end.

Instead, after grabbing his baseball cap from the backseat, he headed inside, optimistic that this decision had been a good one.

His gaze went straight to her table. There she was. Gwen hadn’t noticed him yet. She was busy talking to Holly. From the excitement on Gwen’s face, he was pretty sure she had her copy of Sunday’s program laid out on the table. He wondered if she’d laminated every page yet.

Ah. He’d been spotted. Gwen’s head moved up, her eyes locked on to his. For a split second, there was hesitation there, an almost wince, then it was gone. Holly waved him on as she scooted over to an empty seat at the table.

“I told her you’d be here. I even got you a machine, see?”

Holly held it up, a symbol of good faith.

“Thank you.” He sat down, squeezing between the two women. “I had to see if I could do it again.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, big guy,” Gwen said. “You got lucky last week.”

“If I were a gentleman, I’d agree with you. But the hell with that. I trounced your ass.”

Gwen’s eyes narrowed, but she had trouble maintaining the scowl. “I’ll let that go, but only because you introduced me to Saito.”

“Phew.” He looked around for the waitress, but he’d have to wait.

“God, Paul, Gwen hasn’t shut up about yesterday.” Holly looked different from last Monday. Ah. Makeup. Mostly around her eyes. And her curly blond hair was pinned up. She must have come right from work. Her blouse and skirt were a bit too dressy for Bats and Balls. “I swear she was stopping complete strangers on the street and telling them how she met her fabulous Dodgers.” Holly gave him a very dramatic eye roll. “I mean, really. If it had been Brad Pitt, that would be a whole different story.”

“Oh, then you probably don’t want this.” He put the baseball cap on the table making sure Holly saw Garciaparra’s signature.

“Are you kidding me?” She looked from the hat to him, then back to the hat. “This is for me?”

He turned the cap slightly so she could see where it said, “To Holly.”

She burst into a ferocious grin, grabbed the hat then leaned over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

“You’re welcome.”

She leaned past him. “Gwen, did you see?”

Paul turned to her. He hoped for…he wasn’t sure what, but the look Gwen gave him came damn close. Huh. She must have come right from work, too. She was in pants and blouse, very feminine and nice. Like Holly, she’d done something different with her makeup. Subtle, but well-done. She looked prettier. Had her hair always been that soft blond?

Gwen eyed the baseball cap. “I didn’t know you’d gotten that. I, on the other hand, was a complete selfish bitch who thought of no one but myself.”

“You weren’t supposed to think of anything else. That was my job.”

She didn’t respond. Simply looked at him for a long while, but he had the feeling there was something important going on inside that brain of hers.

“Anyway,” he said when he felt heat creep up his neck. “Where is that waitress? I’m dying for a Heinie.”

Gwen laughed out loud. “Knowing this waitress, I’m pretty sure you can get it.”

“Heineken. Heineken. Jeez, make one little slip of the tongue—”

“I repeat, knowing this waitress…”

Everyone at the table found that one particularly hilarious, which made Paul wonder about this waitress. When he looked back at Gwen, her smile had faded but her interest in him hadn’t. It was as if she was seeing him now for the first time. Either that, or he had something weird on his face. “Is everything all right?”

She nodded.

“You keep staring at me.”

“Sorry. I keep wondering about you. It’s odd to me that you’re here.”

“I can leave.”

“No. I’m glad you’re here.”

He rolled his eyes a bit. “I’m overwhelmed.”

“Stop. I had the best time yesterday. I should have said that first thing. It was a spectacular day.”

“It was pretty great. We’ll have to do it again, sometime.”

She looked down, then past him. Her arm went up to call the infamous waitress, who came over. The woman had enormous breasts. She’d probably tried out for Hooters but the T-shirts wouldn’t stretch enough. He’d actually never seen breasts that large in real life.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she said, her voice kind of scratchy, as if she’d just come back from her cigarette break. “I sure haven’t seen you here before.”

Now that he was looking at her face, he saw she was older, maybe early forties. “Heineken for me. And refill the table.”

The waitress, Carla according to her name tag, winked at him, leaving a tiny smudge of mascara on her cheek. “A hunk and generous. Ain’t that a pisser.” She walked off with a sashay that Autumn would have envied.

“Game’s gonna start in a few minutes, Newbie,” Gwen said. “Better get ready.”

“I’m always ready.”

Gwen’s look told him he’d better watch the clichés. Funny, that line would have garnered a deliciously salacious response from Autumn. Or from most of the women he knew.

This was a different crowd with different sensibilities, and he felt like a foreigner learning the language.

It was weird, too, because he’d been in all kinds of social situations. With Yale professors, multimillionaires, CEOs, even minor royalty. Yet none of that experience helped him here.

Maybe it was because they all worked together? No, he’d hardly spoken to any of them, except Gwen and Holly. In fact, Holly didn’t make him feel this way.

It was Gwen, then. She made him feel awkward. He never felt awkward. His job, in fact, was to make other people feel awkward. Or comfortable. Or whatever he damn well wanted them to feel. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, he looked at his talent in a new light.

“Hello?”

Paul’s gaze snapped up to meet Gwen’s. “Sorry, what?”

“Log in if you want to play.”

He turned his attention to the machine, and a few moments later, to the game. And his drink. The other people at the table as they thanked him for the round. Anything but Gwen.

HER MOUTH WAS OPEN, but nothing was coming out. Mostly because she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Holly, the woman previously known as Gwen’s best friend, had just told Paul that she couldn’t drive Gwen home. Despite the fact that she’d driven them both to work. Despite the fact that they lived in the same apartment complex. The excuse was obviously fake, but did that stop her?

“I’ll be happy to take her home,” Paul said. “Even though she beat me.”

“By two points,” Holly said, pushing in her chair and fitting her purse strap on her shoulder, the better to make her escape. “I have to run. Thanks, Paul. See you tomorrow, Gwen. Bye.”

So now she was standing next to Paul with nothing but a giant slice of awkward between them.

“It’s no big deal. It’s not as if you live in Connecticut.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you especially since you had no choice.”

He pushed his seat in, picked up his machine and Holly’s, and they left. “I don’t mind.”

“Thanks.”

As they passed Carla, she gave Paul a lascivious grin. Paul barely noticed.

He made the lights of his Mercedes flash with his remote as they hit the parking lot. It wasn’t as warm as it should have been in April.

Paul glanced at her as they circled a behemoth truck. “I’ve got a jacket in the car.”

“Thanks, I’m fine.”

They reached his car, and he was very gentlemanly, as always, and yet the touch of his hand on the small of her back made her shiver. It was becoming something of an issue, these butterflies. Whether his hand landed on her arm or her back, it didn’t seem to matter. Alarmingly, tonight, in the middle of the game, all it had taken was meeting his gaze. She’d like to blame it on his looks alone, but even she’d stopped believing that. Something was happening here, and she had no idea what to do about it.

Once he was behind the wheel, he started the engine and the heater at the same time. The radio came on, too. She recognized the voice from NPR, but he turned that off before she could identify a topic.

“NPR, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m a fan, too.”

He got them out of the lot and on the way to her place with a minimum of fuss. She stole glances as he drove, the silence in the car not all that uncomfortable, except for, well…She put her hand on her tummy. It occurred to her that things had changed yesterday. He’d been so thoughtful. Gracious. Downright adorable. Dammit. And then today when he’d given that cap to Holly. She sighed. Baseball had leveled the field. There was a common ground between them and yep, that had taken their relationship into a whole new direction.

So much so, that she hadn’t thought about her sister more than a couple of times tonight. The evening had been really fun. Winning had been great, yes, but that wasn’t all of it. He’d laughed at Steph’s jokes, and Kenny’s, too. He’d been made fun of, and he’d accepted the ribbing with humor.

Yet, was he worth knowing? Outside of baseball, was there anything in him that she could admire? Did it matter?

They pulled into her apartment complex just as she decided that it did matter if she were to become friends with him. She didn’t take friendship lightly.

He found a parking spot pretty close to her apartment. As she grabbed the door handle, he turned to her. “Are you happy?”

She stopped. Debated laughing off the question, but didn’t. “Yeah. For the most part, I am. Why?”

Paul turned off the engine. “Do you think it’s because you’re close to your colleagues?”

She exhaled, curious. “That’s part of it, I guess.”

“What else?”

“I haven’t thought about it all that much. I like my work, but it’s not my whole universe. I’m usually busy. I play trivia, I go to old horror flicks, my book club once a month. I watch way too many games, but I guess it doesn’t matter because who cares? I don’t spend a lot of time dwelling.”

“Huh,” he replied, as if she’d said something he hadn’t expected.

“Why?”

He leaned back a little, staring at her in the semidark. “I’m damn busy, too. I love my work. I have most everything I could want. The car, the house, the women, the toys. But I don’t think I’m very happy.”

“You don’t think you are?”

“Okay. Gun to my head? No. Don’t ask me why, but that’s a very difficult thing to admit. I should be happy. I’ve got it made.”

“Have you felt this way for a long time?”

“Nope. I used to love every second of my life. I’m not even sure when it started to lose its shine. But the parties aren’t quite so fabulous, the wins don’t give me that jolt as often.”

She could tell it was true. Now that she could really see past the handsomeness, there was a sadness in his eyes. There was a decision to be made here. One that led them right off that predictable baseball-loving path. Did she want that? It seemed she did. “Come in. I’ll make us coffee.”

He smiled. “I’d like that.”

IT TOOK A BIT OF TIME to make the coffee and get settled on the couch. He sat at one end, she at the other, but since the couch was curved it made for easy conversations. She’d only put on the mood lighting and as she sat back against her pillows Gwen felt better about her decision to ask him inside.

Yesterday in the clubhouse and tonight at the bar had helped her to see Paul as a person. She’d been so ready to dismiss him as someone empty, someone like Autumn. It hadn’t been easy to admit that she had the same kind of prejudice as the people she disliked the most, but there it was.

Without knowing a lot more about him, she couldn’t say if the two of them could be friends, yet she was a lot more willing to find out. For him to admit his dissatisfaction with his life was a big deal. It made her like him more than their trip to the ball game.