Out Of Her League (6 page)

“Never mind your ball career. You've got a way bigger problem, kiddo,” he told her without preamble.

Dread formed a tight ball inside her. “You mean my stalker?”

“I don't think he's playing with a full deck, if you know what I mean.”

Oh yeah, she knew what he meant. The guy was obsessive, persistent. What would he do to her if he caught her alone again?

“If he keeps following you around, I think you should consider getting a restraining order against him.”

Her eyes widened. “You think it's that serious?”

“I think it could get real serious. You didn't see him when you got hit, but he completely freaked out. He threatened the runner who hit you, threatened the umpire, and security had to drag him out of the park.”

No, she hadn't seen any of that because of all the spots swimming before her eyes. “And then he was waiting for me outside the gate.”

“And then he was waiting for you outside the gate,” he repeated, frowning. “I've seen this kind of behavior too many times, and I only want you to be careful. You need to put a stop to this before it escalates, because it most likely will. Never leave the park on your own, always be aware of your surroundings, check your truck before you get into it. Always alarm your house when you're alone.”

Some basic precautions made sense, she supposed, but the scenario as he painted it made her skin prickle. “Do you think he knows where I live?” The idea made her heart lurch. All at once she realized how vulnerable she was, a woman alone on an acre property in a rural area. Would anyone hear her if she screamed for help? Her eyes darted out the window, as if he might be out there right now, hiding in the darkness.

“Want me to stay after all?”

Yes! her brain screamed. She wouldn't sleep a wink now, waiting up all night with her bat beside her in case her stalker tried to break in. Right now she felt too sore to swing it, but surely adrenaline would kick in if she needed it. “Thanks,” she heard herself say, “but I'll be okay.”
I hope
.

Rayne studied her. “My mother raised me to always help a lady in distress, and I am a cop, after all.”

Precisely. And maybe he was only doing his duty, but was he playing on that? Had he just scared the heck out of her, warning her about her stalker, in the hope it would persuade her into letting him stay with her? Her instincts were telling her his intentions were honorable, his concern for her welfare genuine. After all, he was a long-time friend of Teryl and Drew's, which had to count for something. But how did you know who to trust?

Man, she hated feeling so vulnerable, so helpless. Growing up feeling like a burden to her mother, she'd learned early on to take care of herself and not bother anyone, then had moved out as soon as her university scholarship came through. Having been independent for so long it was hard for her to lean on anyone, but she had to admit she would feel a lot safer with him in the house. “So you'd sort of be like my knight in shining armor?”

“Kind of, yeah. I even carry Kevlar around with me in the trunk.”

Her head began throbbing again, as if to remind her the concussion was reason enough for him to stay over. What if she lost consciousness again? It wasn't likely, but...

That clinched it. Smarter to have him stay the night rather than send him home because she was worried he might get the wrong idea. “Well, okay then. But you'll have to sleep in my guest room,” she warned, a teasing glint in her eyes. “And I should warn you, it's pretty girly. There are flowers on the sheets.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair. “I'll live.”

The brief contact sent her senses spinning, and she had to give herself a mental shake to clear her head. “Okay, follow me,” she said, leading the way up to the second floor with her thigh protesting every step. She would have one hell of a bruise there come morning.

In the guest room she turned back his bedding, gathered some towels in the en suite and set a new toothbrush on the counter for him. “I would never have asked you to stay, you know.” Had she done the right thing? Her nerves jittered at the prospect of the two of them spending the whole night in her house together, but that had to be better than being totally alone, at the mercy of her stalker. Didn't it?

“I know. I figured you wouldn't want to put me out, right?”

“Something like that. But anyhow, I really appreciate this. I was going to sleep with my lucky bat under my pillow after you left.”

He chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. “Well, that should make anybody think twice about coming after you. You've got one hell of a swing.”

She stood in the doorway watching him, startlingly powerful and masculine amidst all the feminine decoration. Her stomach flip-flopped. “I was hoping to impress you at your first game, but instead I ended up as road kill.”

He gave a snort of laughter. “Bad-ass road kill, though. You gave her a wicked limp.”

“Yeah, well, she gave me a limp
and
a concussion.”

He winced in sympathy. “Did you take your anti-inflammatory?”

“Yes doctor, I did, and I beg you, please don't wake me up every hour.”

“That's what the hospital ordered, darlin', and it's only because I'm worried about you.”

Her heart squeezed at his concern. And because he called her darlin', even though he didn't mean anything by it. “All right. Sleep well.”

“You too.”

Yeah, right. If she managed to nod off between his hourly checks on her. She'd probably lie awake all night imagining that muscular body in bed on the other side of the hall. Wasn't that ironic? A gorgeous hunk was sleeping in her guest room, and the only man who seemed interested in her was a stalker who might be out there hiding in her azaleas.

He followed their progress through the house with every light she turned off, the bitterness of her betrayal gnawing with each passing second. Bad enough his Christa had let that other guy take care of her after she was injured, but now she was letting him stay the night with her?
No one can take care of you like I can
, he fumed, a hot stab of jealousy spiking through him. How
dare
she reject him like that. The idea of her sleeping with that stranger while he was standing outside helpless to prevent it nearly choked him.

He didn't want to believe the truth, even when it was staring him in the face. His angel, his paragon of womanhood was a whore after all, just like all the others had been. Like his drunk of a mother had been. The disappointment swamping him was almost suffocating.

Calm down, calm down,
he commanded himself, setting aside his binoculars and trying to understand. All his life he'd battled to keep the rage at bay. His breath came in quick, sharp pants as he fought to regain control.
Breathe. Slow... slow...

She had just been in a terrible collision and wasn't herself. She was in pain, probably still shaken up, and he couldn't expect her to behave normally. Maybe the man was only staying the night to take care of her. How he hated to see her hurting, especially when that bitch who'd hit her had gotten away with a sprained ankle. She was testing his loyalty, that was all. When she discovered how devoted he was to her, she would see they were meant to be together. She'd
know
.

Christa Bailey was nothing like the others. From the first day he'd seen her, carrying pots of flowers into a condo at the beach, he'd accepted that fate had intervened. When she'd emerged onto the deck and tucked the plants into their containers, he'd been struck by how fresh and feminine she was. All his research showed her to be an independent, hardworking single woman, and a quality human being. Those attributes alone made her precious, but with her added beauty and kindness... she was perfect. He had to be careful not to let his admiration of her interfere with his plans. They had a connection, Christa and him. He was her destiny.

He made his way back to the screen of trees surrounding the property, careful to erase any footprints from the spongy ground. He didn't want to be caught now, when he was so close to achieving his goal. He'd become an expert at being seen only when and by whom he wanted to be seen. He rather enjoyed the game, pushing the limit each time to see how close he could let them get without being caught. Stupid cops. He hated them all.

Back at the car he changed into the fresh shirt, jeans and shoes he'd brought with him, placing the soiled items into a plastic bag. He couldn't abide being dirty. Christa was clean, pure. Wasn't she? He should do something to get her attention. Something special. His lips curved as the plan came together in his head, imagined her expression when she learned what he'd done. She always appeared to sense when he was around, and though he obviously made her nervous, she never seemed sure if she should be afraid of him or not. His smile widened as he drove down the darkened road.

People should trust their instincts; they were usually right.

Curled up in her antique brass bed, she dreamed Rayne was whispering her name. She sighed and shifted onto her side, flinching when her swollen leg touched the mattress.

“Christa?”

She rolled over, saw his silhouette outlined in her doorway. He really was standing there, had come to check on her. Thankfully he hadn't removed his jeans and t-shirt. Had he been bare-chested she might have hyperventilated. “I'm awake. What time is it?”

“A little after four.” He came toward the bed.

Breath clogging in her throat, she stayed very still as he sat next to her atop the pink and green patchwork quilt, the mattress dipping under his weight. He placed one hand on the back of her head, where the lump was throbbing as if it had a heartbeat of its own.

“How do you feel?” he asked, voice husky with concern. His long fingers probed her skull.

She swallowed, the warmth of his touch spearing through her. “I'm okay. Just a bit spacey. Those meds sure knocked me out.”

His fingertips traced her sensitized scalp. “Not dizzy?”

“No.” Not from the concussion, at least. It was his nearness that overwhelmed her and shortened her breath. She had to fight the desire to crawl into his lap and press against all those finely tuned muscles. “Bit sore, though.”

He held out his other hand to her, offering her a glass of water. “Here,” he said, pressing it into her palm. “You should take another dose.”

Obedient as a child, she accepted the tablet and swallowed it. He took the glass back from her, the warmth of his fingers making her hand tingle. The scent of fabric softener from his shirt teased her nostrils. Downy had never smelled so good.

“You must've been sleeping okay, ‘cause you didn't move at all the other times I looked in on you.”

“Like a rock,” she assured him, oddly warmed at the idea of him watching over her while she slept and glad he was there, soothing her anxieties about a nocturnal visit from her stalker. “You?”

“I was a little worried the flowered sheets would keep me up, but it turned out not to be a problem.”

He was such a sweetheart. Why couldn't she find someone who was into long-term relationships? Although to be honest, right now a fling didn't look so bad.

“I'll be gone by the time you wake up,” he told her, getting to his feet. “I've got an early morning warrant to serve to an unsuspecting drug dealer.” Enjoyment edged his tone. “One of the perks of my job.”

“I'm sure.” She didn't pretend to understand him, but she admired him all the same. “Personally, I'd rather stare down an Olympic-caliber pitcher.”

He chuckled and stroked her cheek. “See? Now that would scare the hell out of me,” he confessed. “Sleep well, and call me if you need anything, okay?”

She could barely think, with her cheek tingling like it was. The man was a hazard to her nervous system. “I will. Thanks for everything, Rayne. I really do feel better knowing you're here.”

She thought he smiled at her in the semi-darkness. “Anytime, kiddo.”

Watching him pull the door closed behind him, she let out a deep sigh and settled back under the covers, staring up at the shadows on her ceiling. Never mind her stalker, her heart was putting her in greater danger.

As expected, Rayne was gone by the time she came into the kitchen the next morning. He'd left a note on the table reminding her to keep everything locked and to call him and let him know how she was doing. Pushing any fears about her stalker from her mind she smiled her way through breakfast, then phoned her coach to let him know she was going to live.

“I guess you're kinda sore today,” were among Matt's first words.

He sure had a knack for understatement. She felt as if she'd been in a car accident. “So, did we make a comeback?”

“Nah. Went from bad to ugly. We came the closest I've seen to a bench-clearing brawl.”

Her fingers tightened on the phone. “Really? What happened?”

“The girls didn't take too kindly to their favorite teammate being taken out like that. We hit the first batter up between the shoulder blades... kinda hard to argue it was an accident.”

“No kidding.” She was oddly touched by her pitcher's efforts.

“Anyway, it all went downhill after that, and I barely managed to avoid disaster by charging out and physically restraining their coach from going after her. Too bad you missed it.”

Christa laughed, though it hurt her head to do it. “Did anyone get thrown out?”

“Yeah, Patty and Lindsay.”

That would be the backup catcher and the first baseman. Both big girls, too. “Well, I'm sorry I missed it all.”

“It was something, I'll grant you that.” He cleared his throat, and Christa knew something else was coming.

“Thing is, Chris, I got a call from their coach this morning.”

“Is he still mad at you?”

Matt sighed. “It wasn't that. He... ” Silence filled the next few seconds. “I guess the girl that took you out, well... she got hurt in the parking lot of their hotel. A hit and run, her teammates said.”

Christa's stomach plummeted.

“A big SUV came flying around the corner, must not have seen her until it was too late. No one else was hurt, but the driver kept going and it was too fast for anyone to get the license plate. We got two witnesses, though, who say they saw the guy.”