Read Second Thoughts: A Hot Baseball Romance Online
Authors: Mindy Klasky
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Sports, #Romance, #Contemporary, #spicy romance, #sports romance, #hot romance, #baseball, #sexy romance, #Contemporary Romance
Second Thoughts: A Hot Baseball Romance (13 page)
Because sex with Nick had never been bad.
She stretched in bed, reaching her arms all the way over her head and pointing her toes toward the far wall. She could already feel a slow ache blooming in her thighs. She smiled at the memory of how tight he’d wound her. She felt like purring.
Instead, she pushed back the covers and stumbled over to her closet. Her familiar terry bathrobe felt rough against her tender breasts, and she was aware of the looped cloth with every step she took. She shook her head and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
She measured out coffee, automatically adding two extra scoops, the way Nick liked it. She put on water for her tea, and she took out the carton of Olivia’s organic whole milk, the closest she had to the cream Nick preferred. No need for sugar, for either of them.
As the coffee dripped, she thought about how the night before could have turned into a disaster. She’d felt so stupid when RoadWarrior had failed to show up, like she was some hopeless teenager, mooning over a boy who didn’t know she was alive.
Well, RoadWarrior had missed his chance. She’d send him a message on TrueLove right now, cut short any half-assed explanation he might try to give.
Jamie walked into the living room, looking around for a moment before she found her clutch on the floor, next to Nick’s pants. She shook her head. They’d been like animals the night before. And it had felt
incredible
.
She tapped the TrueLove icon on her phone. Nothing in her mailbox. Of course not. Because RoadWarrior was a coward and a jerk. “Hey, Loser,” she started to type.
But maybe he wasn’t a loser. Maybe he’d meant to meet up with her, but something terrible had happened. She backspaced over her message and started again. “Hey, what happened?” she typed.
But what did she say after that? After last night, she wasn’t going to continue her online flirtation. Even if RoadWarrior had a perfectly good explanation for where he’d been, Nick was back in her life.
The shower switched off. He’d be downstairs any minute. She stared at her three-word question, shrugged, and tapped Send.
And almost immediately, she heard a familiar triple buzz. By reflex, she glanced at her own phone. But no, that wasn’t her TrueLove account responding.
She typed another message. “Let me know.” Innocuous enough. She hit Send.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
This time she was ready for it. This time she placed the direction of the sound—Nick’s khakis, piled by her feet. She fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his phone.
“?” she typed, hitting Send before her mind caught up with her. Nick’s phone buzzed three times.
She looked up to see Nick standing on the steps, one of her navy towels tucked tight around his waist. He grinned as he said, “You’re stuck with me wearing the same—”
He stopped when he saw her. When he saw the red heart on his phone. In the morning sunlight, his face went blotchy beneath his beard. He swallowed hard and licked his lips, still staring at the phone, at the front door, at the couch, looking at anything but her.
“What the f—” she started to say, but he cut her off.
“I can explain.”
“I doubt it.” She heard the acid in her voice, wondered who had injected it there.
“I didn’t know what to say when I realized you were Shygirl6!”
“How about, ‘what a funny coincidence?’ How about, ‘Hey, I’m RoadWarrior.’”
“I couldn’t do it, Jamie. Not when I realized I’d been cheering you on for fighting me over Olivia.” He ran his hands through his hair and tightened his lips into a single white line.
Her belly turned over. She’d seen this picture before. Back in her dorm room. The night before graduation. When he was searching for the harshest words she’d ever heard in her life.
He finally figured out what he wanted to say. “I swear, I didn’t know the truth until I saw you sitting at the bar. I fucked up, Jamie. Big time. I should have said something the second I walked into the restaurant.”
“But you didn’t. You thought it would be too much fun to play games.” Her words were bitter as lemon peel.
“I wasn’t playing! I stood out there on that goddamn porch, and I realized last night might be the time you walked away. It might be the time I lost you forever.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
The shame on his face was enough of an answer. Shame that she recognized—because that was how
she’d
felt the night before. Shame that had nearly drowned her as she sat at the bar, feeling like an absolute reject, feeling like
she
was the one who’d misread weeks of online conversations, like
she
was the one who had thrown herself at some guy who’d come to his senses just in time to save himself.
“Get out of here,” she said.
“Come on, Twelve.”
“Don’t call me that!” she shouted. “Don’t ever call me that again!”
“Jamie—” he said, but that wasn’t any better. She’d told him secrets, told RoadWarrior. She’d confided fears about her career, about her life. Nick had known, the entire time they talked at Artie’s, while they ate and drank together like friends. He’d known when he’d driven her home. He’d known when he’d accepted her invitation to come inside, when he’d…
“Get out of here,” she repeated.
Before he could protest again, before he could come up with some other lie, some other betrayal, she heard a key in the lock. There was laughter—a woman’s voice—and more, from a child. Ashley. And Olivia.
Jamie just had time to pull her robe closer around her waist before the door burst open and her daughter came galloping into the room. “Guess what, Mommy?” Olivia sang. “Somebody left a book on the swing outside!” She stopped dead, looking from her mother to the man at the foot of the steps. “Hi, Red! Why are you here? Want to hear me sing my acorn song? I practiced it with Ashley all last night!”
Olivia wasn’t a stupid child. She realized something was wrong when not one of the adults around her said a word. Her face was clouded as she turned to Jamie. “Mommy?” she asked. “What’s wrong? Mommy, why are you crying?”
A week later, Jamie tried to keep her voice light as she repeated herself for the third time, speaking a little louder than normal in case the connection was the problem. “No, Dad. I totally understand. Mom needs you to be there. Olivia will be
fine
. It’s just the Fall Chorale. It’s not like she’s winning a Grammy award. She’ll be
fine
, Dad.” She babbled for a few more minutes, repeating that last sentence at least half a dozen times. But she was no closer to believing herself by the time she hung up the call.
Robert looked up from the equipment that he was striking with his usual efficiency. “Problems in paradise?”
Jamie shook her head, not knowing where to start. “My father was going to fly down next week for Olivia’s fall choir concert, but he can’t make it now.”
Robert looked skeptical. “He really wanted to hear a bunch of six-year-olds sing?”
Jamie shrugged. “He wants to check up on us. Guarantee I haven’t collapsed into the pit of despair. Make sure the house isn’t falling down around our ears.”
She started to shut down programs on her computer. She’d
told
her father not to come to Raleigh. She was a big girl now. She was a lot more mature than the college senior who’d fallen apart the first time Nick disappointed her. She wasn’t going to stop eating, wasn’t going to stay in bed for weeks at a time.
She couldn’t. She was responsible for Olivia now.
But it had sure made things easier when her father volunteered to come to the concert. Olivia had gotten it jammed in her head that “Red” would come hear her, no matter how many times Jamie said that wasn’t possible.
Jamie had obviously done too good a job last Saturday, convincing her daughter that “Red” was visiting because he was Mommy’s good friend. That “Red” had taken a shower upstairs because his own wasn’t working. That “Red” was just going to get dressed and leave and he’d find time to talk to Olivia later…
Olivia had no idea that Jamie’s heart was broken. She just knew that she wanted an audience for her solo performance in the “The Last Little Acorn.” Grandpa had been enough of a draw to distract Olivia for almost a week.
But Jamie’s mother had broken her ankle, slipping on the ice during Connecticut’s first big winter storm. Of course, she insisted that Jamie’s father still head south, but Jamie wouldn’t hear of it. Olivia will be
fine
, she reminded herself. She’ll love the concert, no matter who’s sitting in the audience.
Robert cleared his throat. “I’m free next Friday.”
Jamie shook her head. “I couldn’t impose on you that way. You don’t have enough time with Steven as it is.”
“Steven’s a big boy. He can spare me for a couple of hours.”
Jamie’s eyes filled. They’d been doing that a lot lately. Her emotions felt raw, scraped to the bone. In the past twenty-four hours, she’d choked up over three different commercials on TV—and one of them was for beer.
Taking a steadying breath, she shut her laptop with authority. “You know Olivia adores you,” she said. “If you can really do it…”
Robert made a funny little bow. “I’m honored to attend. Should I bring flowers for the star?”
“Hardly,” Jamie said. She looked around the luxury suite. “Looks like we’ve got everything here.”
“So, what’s the plan for next week?” Robert managed to make the question sound offhand, but she knew he was anxious. His livelihood depended on hers. And
she
was wrapping up the Rockets project today, without anything else in the pipeline. All of her emails, her professional networking, her cold calls—nothing had come through.
Robert deserved the truth. “I don’t know,” she said. “I
hope
to get some good news on Monday. Tuesday at the latest. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.” She vowed to send out another dozen emails, the second she got home.
~~~
Nick didn’t answer his phone when it rang. After all, there was only one person in the world he wanted to talk to, and she wasn’t taking his calls. Or his emails. Or his texts. He’d stop by her house, but he was afraid she’d have him arrested for trespassing.
Instead he was left stalking her online. She’d updated her website just the night before, added in a bunch of shots from the Rockets calendar. There were three of him, front and center. He’d felt sick to his stomach when he saw them there.
Whoever was calling, they weren’t taking “no” for an answer. The phone began to ring again. He glanced at the screen and realized he had a career to continue, even if he’d fucked up his personal life beyond redemption. “Hey,” he said, finally answering.
“I’m asking you!” Jeremy Epson bellowed like they were already in the middle of a conversation. “Who’s the best agent in New York City?”
Nick sighed. “What’s up?”
“Jordan Thomson’s cock.”
Nick was long used to Epson’s foul mouth, but the guy usually at least made
sense
. Jordan Thomson was the owner of Raleigh Luxury Motors, the dealership Nick had hoped to get the endorsement with. Christ, that seemed like a lifetime ago. “What are you talking about?”
“Jordan Thomson has a hard-on for you, my man.”
“Ep—”
“Raleigh Luxury Motors wants you to be their spokesman,” Ep crowed. “A three-year deal, with escalating payment if they meet certain sales targets. I’ve got to hand it to you, Big Guy. I thought your whole ‘Professor’ shtick was short-sighted. Not exactly the stuff that nails the big contracts. But Luxury is
all
hot and bothered about you. They say you’re the four-quadrant man they’ve been waiting for.”
“Four quadrant?”
“Old men, young men, old women, young women. You’ve got ’em all eating out of the palm of your hand.” Epson went on, crowing about the terms of the deal, but Nick barely processed what he was saying. There was something about print rights and TV, about launching a new showroom. Ep wrapped up the whole recitation with, “Say ‘thank you, Uncle Ep.’”
“Thank you,” Nick said mechanically. “So what do I have to do?”
“I’m sending you the contract. I’ve already gone through it, but let me know if you have any questions. Otherwise, sign it and get it back to me by tomorrow morning.”
“Will do.”
“And they want to take some publicity stills, something they can use to announce the contract on Tuesday. They’ll send over a photographer as soon as you sign.”
Nick shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to stand in front of some goddamn stranger’s camera. “The team just took a bunch of headshots. Tell Luxury to contact the front office.”
“Jesus! Sound a little more depressed, why don’t you? Who pissed in your Wheaties?”
“Sorry, Ep. I’m happy about the deal. I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now.”
“What’s wrong, Nicky boy? You know I’ve got your back.”
“Not on this,” Nick said. “It’s personal.”
His agent laughed. “You don’t
have
a personal life. Not that you keep from me. You tell me everything, and if there’s a problem, I make it right.”
Nick had spent the past week trying to figure a way out of this mess. Maybe there
was
something he wasn’t seeing. What could it hurt to get another man’s perspective? Taking a deep breath, Nick gave his agent the short version: Jamie back in Raleigh, Olivia, TrueLove. He skipped over the night of mind-blowing sex, just leaving it at, “I don’t know what else I can do, Ep. I don’t know how to make it right.”
“Nicky, Nicky, Nicky…” Epson sounded like Nick was the sorriest sack of shit he’d ever represented. “You’re going about this all wrong. You’ve got to think
big
! You’re a star now! Don’t waste your time knocking on her door and hoping she’ll open up.”
“But—”
“And don’t even think about more chickenshit
texts
. Don’t bother with her fucking answering machine!”
“I need to talk to her, Ep.”
“Sure you do. But you’ve got to think like the face of Luxury Motors. Get her down to Rockets Field! Put your goddamn apology on the scoreboard, ten times bigger than life!”
“Why don’t I just hire a skywriter, while I’m at it?”
Epson clicked his tongue, dismissing the sarcasm in Nick’s tone. “Listen to me, Durban. When have I ever led you astray? You want to make her forget some idiot thing you said or did? Overwhelm her. Make it so she can’t see anything else. Can’t imagine anything else. Don’t give her room to breathe.”
Nick forced himself to listen. This was why he paid Ep the big bucks. Not to be some relationship coach, not to offer up dating advice like some goddamn daytime TV host. But because Jeremy Epson knew people. He understood what motivated folks when the stakes were high. After all, he’d made the Luxury Motor deal happen, with more zeroes on the check than Nick had ever dreamed of.
Bottom line, Epson was a master negotiator, and Nick needed help with the most important negotiation of his life. He needed to get Jamie back. And he was prepared to do anything to do that.
~~~
Robert’s voice was so excited Jamie had trouble figuring out what he was saying. “The front page! Check out the front page of the
News & Observer
!”
Jamie grabbed for her laptop. Sure enough, there was the picture she’d taken, front and center on the screen—the image of Nick, serious and steady, looking out at some unseen horizon. She skimmed the headline of the article. Nick had just become the spokesman for Raleigh Luxury Motor, one of the oldest and most respected businesses in town.
Her heart clenched at the news. She’d spent the most formative years of her life being happy when Nick achieved things. Even now, even after the nightmare of their personal relationship, it was habit to be pleased when he succeeded. And it didn’t hurt that there was a credit in the newspaper, black letters clear against the white background of the shot: Photo by Jamie Martin. The Rockets must have given permission for the newspaper to use her work.
Jamie realized Robert was still gushing enthusiastically. “You couldn’t ask for better placement! It’s like taking out an ad!”
“Well, keep your fingers crossed that someone—anyone—is buying.”
“No new business?” He managed to make the question casual.
“Not yet,” she said, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt. “But I talked to the Rockets, and they’ll have my check cut on Friday. I’ll go by and pick it up in person. I’ll deposit it that afternoon, and I’ll have a paycheck for you at the Fall Chorale.”
“If you need me to hold off on cashing it…”
“No,” she said. “Thank you, but no. I’m running a business, and I have to follow business rules.” Before Robert could respond, her phone beeped to indicate she had another call. “I’ve got to run. I’ll let you know if anything else comes in!” Robert signed off, and she answered the new caller. “Hello?”
“May I please speak with Jamie Martin?”
She didn’t recognize the voice. The speaker sounded young and energetic. Jamie forced herself to smile, trying to convey professional enthusiasm as she said, “This is she.”
“My name is Jenn Carson. I’m the owner of Best Foot Forward.”
Jamie’s belly tightened with nerves. She’d sent an email to Jenn two weeks earlier, trying to scavenge a bit of photographic work from the fitness center. “Of course!” she said, as if she’d been expecting the call.
“We’re in the middle of a complete overhaul of our corporate image—new print materials, a new website, everything. I saw your work in the paper this morning, and I remembered an email you sent a while back. I think you could bring us exactly the sort of energy we need.”
“It sounds like a wonderful project. Let me grab my calendar…” Jamie pulled up her electronic scheduling system. She knew perfectly well that she had plenty of time to meet with Jenn. Nevertheless, she asked, “I like to start with a single meeting, about an hour or so, to figure out the parameters of a new project. When would be a good time for you?”
They negotiated a time for the meeting. All the while Jamie’s heart was pounding. Jenn’s call couldn’t have come at a better time. Maybe Jamie’s was finally breaking through. Maybe she was finally conquering her new home, Raleigh.
She concluded her call with Jenn and called up the front page of the paper again. She’d captured something in Nick’s eyes—some hooded emotion. He looked rooted, determined. But Jamie knew him well enough to recognize the sorrow deep in his eyes. She was willing to bet her entire paycheck from the Rockets that he’d been thinking of her, thinking of their past, when she caught the image.
A wave of depression crashed against her, stinging like a physical blow. She’d lived through this before. She knew she’d survive. Nick had ruined her life once before, and then she hadn’t even enjoyed the silver lining of photographic success.
But this time was worse, even with the timely call from Best Foot Forward. This time, it wasn’t just Jamie’s heart that was broken. This time, Olivia would be hurt. And Jamie could never forgive Nick for that.
~~~
Jamie took a deep breath as she shut her car door. Her junker was completely out of place in the employees’ lot at Rockets Field. On a Friday in the off season, the only people parking here were high up in management, people who drove Mercedes, Audis, all the luxury cars. Like the ones Nick would be promoting with his coveted endorsement.
With a conscious effort, she pushed her thoughts away from Nick.
She patted her car’s fender before she walked away. The old thing was one major repair away from being junked. She’d had the starter replaced after that awful night at Artie’s.
Okay. Artie’s hadn’t been so bad. The night that followed, either.
It had been the morning after that destroyed her.
Dammit! There was another flash of memory, a quick image of Nick’s lips on hers, of his hands, of the way he’d played her entire body, like no one else had ever done… She gritted her teeth. She couldn’t afford to backslide now.
No. She was here at Rockets Field to pick up her check. Then, she’d be free of the team forever. Free of Nick Durban.
And she could almost make herself believe that was what she wanted as she made her way to the elevator.