Out Of Her League (10 page)

“
Teryl
!”

“It's all right, sweetie, it's just between us friends.” She patted her shoulder. “And now I've got to take Drew home and have some wild monkey sex of my own. If you'll excuse me,” she drawled. She moved two steps away, then turned back to Rayne and give him an upheld hand, fingers spread wide.
Five years
, she mouthed, eyes widening, then shrugged as if to say she'd never understand how someone could be celibate that long, and went on the prowl after her husband.

“Oh my God.” Christa had her hand pressed to her mouth. “Someone please kill me now.” Or at least let the floor open up and swallow her whole.

Rayne laughed and pulled her hand from her lips, giving it a squeeze. “Don't sweat it, darlin', that was her wine talking.”

She peeked up at him, her face burning. The sexiest, most notorious bachelor she'd ever come across knew she'd been living like a nun. “So what are you saying, that she should live after humiliating me like that?”

He grinned, took her wineglass and refilled it. “Has it really been five years?”

She glared up at him, knowing he was teasing, but she still felt like a pathetic loser. She took a fortifying gulp of wine, careful not to snap the stem of the wineglass with her clenched fingers. “I've had lots of dates.” Six or seven actually, but he was only on a need-to-know basis. “It's just that I've been busy,” she added, face burning, aware of how ridiculous it sounded. “I haven't had time for... that kind of... thing.” She swallowed the rest of the wine in one shot, prayed it would stay in her churning stomach. Maybe if she got drunk enough, none of this would be embarrassing anymore. Maybe it would even be funny.

“So who's Cameron the Shithead?”

She huffed out a breath, sent another withering glare after Teryl. Great. Let's air out all her dirty laundry in front of the man she fantasized about. “He's my ex,” she explained, careful to keep emotion out of her voice. Cameron was so far in the past he didn't deserve any emotion. After living with him for two years, she'd discovered that while she'd been daydreaming about their wedding, he'd been dreaming about how many women he could nail while she was away on road trips. “He cheated on me, so I dumped him.” There. It sounded so neat and tidy that way, revealing none of the crushing pain she'd felt, the gaping wound he'd left where her naïve heart had once been.

“So you broke up five years ago and there's been no one since?”

If her face got any hotter she might spontaneously combust. “No one important.” The crux of the problem? She wanted someone to take care of her, someone to one day have a family with, but she was way too scared of being burned again. The classic fear of abandonment. No wonder, after growing up feeling unwanted by her mother and Cameron's infidelity. According to her counselor her need for a stable, committed relationship reflected her desire to heal that pain, blah, blah. Understanding its source was an important step, but it didn't make it any easier to risk opening herself again to that kind of emotional agony.

Rayne came around the counter and set an arm around her shoulders. “I can't understand it, but c'mon. Let's go start on your presents.”

“Yes, presents,” she agreed, latching onto the idea, and let him lead her to the gift table. Everyone gathered to watch as she unwrapped a silver photo frame from Rayne and a yellow raincoat and hat for Jake from her adorable Irish neighbor, Patrick. They all laughed when the dog paraded in his new outfit, ever the showoff.

Teryl snapped photos with her digital camera, stopping in front of her and Rayne. She relished the warm, hard muscles of his forearm across her shoulder as he pulled her into him, her frantic heartbeat reminding her of their almost-kiss on the staircase. She soaked up his easy affection like a thirsty plant.

He gave her a squeeze and released her to open the rest of her gifts. Teryl, bless her thoughtful heart, had given her what appeared to be a lifetime supply of condoms and a card that read “Go get some, girlfriend!”

Rayne fished out one that glowed in the dark and let out a low whistle. “Wow. Who's the lucky guy?”

Her face burned as she glared at him. “Teryl
. Dies
,” she muttered under her breath. Murder in her eyes as she swept a glance around the room, Christa couldn't find Teryl anywhere.

Someone was getting some all right, maybe at this very moment, but it sure as hell wasn't her.

He's going to kill me
.

Sitting in the dugout at South Hill Park in Vancouver, Christa couldn't get the words out of her head. The officer who'd checked her cell phone records had traced yesterday's call from her stalker to a prepaid calling card. Another dead end.

Rayne had cautioned her not to return to the ballpark until the guy was caught, but she wanted the coaches to know she was serious about making the national team, even if her injuries were keeping her temporarily sidelined. Besides, she was perfectly safe with her teammates, wasn't she? It wasn't like he could come and kidnap her in sight of everyone, even if he was crazy enough to try.

She still had a life to live, even if someone mentally unstable was obsessed with her. In the reassuring light of day, she even wondered if they might not be blowing this whole stalker thing out of proportion. Look how terrified she'd been the other night, when she'd thought he was prowling around her house preparing to make his move, and it turned out to be a raccoon.

One of her teammates hit the ball into the gap and ran to second for a stand-up double. Frustration ratcheted up another notch, the pressure in her chest increasing painfully. She wanted to be out there. To be given the chance to score the winning run, to make the critical plays.

Being selected for the national team would be the culmination of a lifetime of hard work, of countless hours in the gym hitting the weights to keep in shape during the winters, working through the off-season with the pitchers to stay in good condition, remaining late after every practice to improve. She thrived on the challenge, on pushing herself. Her skill was the product of years of discipline, of playing through all sorts of adversity— tyrannical coaches, heat exhaustion, bruises, sprains, strains and broken fingers. Making the final cut would prove she'd done something important with her life, something she could look on with pride. Now it was within reach, just beyond her straining fingertips...

Her spine tingled.

Eyes were boring into her back. She whipped her head around, froze. There he was, in the stands behind home plate. His cold gray eyes stared back at her, and then he winked, licked his lips.

She tore her gaze away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of rattling her, and tried to stem the flow of adrenaline flooding through her. She couldn't believe his audacity. How long had he been sitting there? She'd been so stupid, blithely dismissing the danger. Why hadn't she listened to Rayne and stayed home? He couldn't come with her to tonight's game because of a briefing, but maybe he'd answer his cell phone.

She dug in her bag for her phone and dialed his number, moving to the end of the dugout to keep a low profile. She closed her eyes in relief when he answered.

“It's me,” she whispered, casting a sidelong look to the bleachers. “I'm at— ” He was going to blast her when he found out, but, “— at a game downtown— ”

“What? You'd better frigging
not
be.”

She winced. “I know, but— ”

“What the hell's wrong with— ”

“He's here.”

Tension crackled across the line. “He's at the park?”

“Yes, right behind the plate. He's watching me.”

She could hear his chair scrape back as he spoke to her, his voice anxious. “I'm going to call this in and get you help. Where are you right now? Are you safe?”

“I'm in the dugout with the team. Nobody knows what's going on.”

“Stay right there, Chris. Promise me you won't move until help gets there.”

His worried tone left her cold all over. She shivered. “I won't move.”

“I'll come out to meet you as soon as I can get out of here.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Chris.”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

She swallowed. “I will.” Hanging up, she regretted her rash behavior more than ever.

Every cell in her body screamed at her to do something. She took one last glance into the stands but the seat behind home plate was empty. Her heart rate doubled. She scanned the crowd but he was gone. That scared her more than him sitting there staring at her. At least then she'd known where he was. Now, he could be anywhere.

The police arrived within minutes, and Christa gave the two officers the stalker's description and relayed the events of the past week or so. They completed a thorough check of the park and reported that someone matching his description had driven off in a dark blue pickup. By now it was almost eight-thirty; Rayne should be off duty any time. Should she leave right away, or wait until she could get hold of Rayne? The idea of staying here sent prickles up her spine, as if every pair of eyes in the crowd belonged to
him
. No, she'd rather get out of here now in case he came back. She left Rayne a voice-mail asking him to drive out to meet her as soon as he could. Man, she hated being so scared, but she had no choice. The stalker had given her no choice.

Minutes after leaving the park, she noticed a dark blue pickup in her rearview mirror. Her skin erupted into gooseflesh. Was it him?

The vehicle advanced to a few car lengths behind her, changing lanes when she did, passing when she did, always remaining the same distance away. Every detail came into sharp relief.

Don't panic. Stay focused on the road and lose him any way you can.
Of course, she might be totally paranoid about her tail, so she made several turnoffs to determine if she really
was
being followed. Her every move was closely mirrored. When she slowed to make the pickup pass her, it slowed almost to a halt. Now she was ninety-eight percent sure it was him. The last thing she could do was go home... why had she taken a chance and not waited for Rayne?

She forced herself to think. Rayne would call her as soon as he checked his messages. She couldn't drive around for hours to avoid her pursuer, and what if he got desperate and tried to ram her or something? Who knew how nuts he was? What she needed was a safe place to go before things got any worse. Maybe she'd pass a police cruiser and could flag it down.

None of this was much help. She needed to do something now. Her hand tightened around the cell phone in her lap and she punched in 911, explained her near-certainty that the guy the cops had reported leaving the ballpark in a dark blue pickup was following her. The dispatcher gave her directions to the nearest police station and advised her to drive there immediately. She made the first turn, checking her mirrors. Sure enough, there was the blue pickup a few cars behind her.

She stepped on the gas, racing through a yellow light. Her shadow ran the red light, swerving to miss the oncoming traffic, racing to catch her. When he pulled in behind her, she memorized the license plate and the few identification details she could see in the glare of headlights. She clutched the steering wheel with shaky, clammy hands, heart slamming in her chest, and hit the accelerator, dodging slower traffic left and right. She couldn't make it to the police station— she needed help now. When the pickup was still with her at the next light she cut into a gas station, took a deep breath and jumped out, making a run for it inside. He wouldn't be insane enough to chase after her in front of everyone, would he?

The attendant eyed her suspiciously when she asked him if he could see a blue pickup. “Yeah, right there out front.”

“Can you see the driver?” Her voice shook.

“Sort of.”

She swallowed. “Can you tell me if it's a man or a woman and what color hair they have?”

He squinted out the window. “A man, with light-colored hair, I think.”

She called 911 again and told them where she was. Then she called Rayne, praying he would pick up this time. He answered after two rings.

“Hey kiddo, I just got your message— ”

“He's following me.”

“What? Where the hell are you?”

“At a gas station. I've called the cops. He tailed me from the park.”

“You left the park on your own, after he was there? Jesus, Christa, I told you not to— ”

“I know!” she snapped, nerves stretched to the breaking point. “I thought I'd be safe enough until you could meet up with me, but I guess your briefing took longer than expected.” If she sounded shaky and a little accusatory, well, she couldn't help it.

“I'm coming to get you,” he said, his voice taut. “Just stay there. Can he see you?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know you're onto him?”

She gnawed on her lower lip. “Probably, by now. But I didn't actually see
him
. The gas station attendant said it was a man with light-colored hair.” It didn't make any sense, now that she thought about it. Wouldn't he have dyed his hair, grown a beard, developed a sudden myopia that required corrective lenses to disguise his appearance?

She forced herself to turn around and the second her eyes lit on the pickup, it peeled out of the forecourt. “He took off,” she said, hand pressed over her pounding heart.

“Did you get a license plate?” She gave him the details she had noted, and her location. “Good girl. I'll be right there.”

She waited anxiously inside until the cops arrived and felt like an idiot when she had to admit that her stalker had vanished, although the attendant was able to confirm seeing a dark blue pickup entering the gas station immediately after her. No sooner had the police left than Rayne pulled up and she ran outside to meet him.

His concerned gaze raked over her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Shook me up a bit though.”

His jaw tightened. “Well, it's good to know something can.” He gathered her to him, held her tight against his chest. A strong finger tilted her chin so she had to look at him. “You scared me,” he told her. “I thought you'd be at home, cuddled up on the couch, but no, you went by yourself to a game downtown. And not only did Seth whatever-his-name is show up, but he followed you afterward.” He cupped her face in his hands, stared into her eyes. “Do you realize how lucky you were? You could be in the hospital right now, if you'd been in an accident because you ran one too many lights, or rolled your truck trying to lose him. Don't you understand? Making that team is not worth putting your life at risk, Chris. Who the hell knows what this guy is after, so until he's caught you're putting your life in danger every time you go out alone. Do you get that? Promise me you won't do anything so stupid again.”