Thrown By Love (11 page)

Jackie leaned forward to peer at the field. “Alex is down there watching his buddy, Scotty Donovan.”

Then again, maybe they wouldn’t be able to be friends. Chloe hadn’t realized Scotty and Alex were close. It was unusual for hitters to be friends with pitchers, especially across such an age gap. Alex was easily seven years older than Scotty.

Now that she’d decided to keep the team, she’d have to keep her distance from Scotty. And that would mean staying out of the circles he frequented. Inviting Jackie might well have been a mistake.

Chloe glanced down to the field and saw Scotty make a move, one she’d seen on the dance floor. It was sexy, sort of a swivel and a jump. It brought the memories of being in his arms flooding back. She’d best stay out of bars that he danced in too.

“Good God!” A gorgeous, raven-haired woman dressed to the nines and wearing six-inch stilettos breezed into the skybox. “Getting up here is harder than getting backstage at a U2 concert.” She waved her hand at Jackie. “I lost my ticket—you’d have thought I was trying to talk my way into Buckingham Palace.”

Jackie laughed. Chloe smiled politely.

“Alana, this is Chloe McNalley.” She turned to Chloe. “Alana is Alex’s cousin.”

Chloe should’ve read Jackie’s email with the guest names more closely; she’d thought it said
Alan
. She’d lost track of more than a few details over the past couple of weeks, and at first she’d written it off to stress, but it was more like overwhelm.

“I bet you can tell some stories,” Alana said. She flicked her sapphire-blue eyes over Chloe. In that brief second Chloe felt analyzed, categorized and shelved. And not for the reasons she’d faced recently. Alana was scrutinizing her as a woman, not a baseball owner.

“I took over just a while ago.” Chloe said.

“A lot can happen in a
while
,” Alana said. “I know. I have brothers.” She sauntered to the rail and leaned her arms on it, staring down at the field. “Men can be so fascinating, don’t you think?”

“Especially cousins,” Alex Tavonesi said as he entered the skybox. Chloe recognized Alex; she’d seen him play a few times. He seemed taller than she remembered as he bent down and brushed a kiss to Jackie’s cheek.

Jackie crossed her arms and smirked at her husband. “Can you believe he has a few hours off and he wants to come to a game?”

“Gotta run some PR for my buddy,” he said as he turned to Chloe. Introductions obviously weren’t necessary; her photo had been plastered all over the news. “Thanks for having us up,” he said as he shook her hand. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’ll probably head back down near the field when the game starts.”

She didn’t. Sometimes she felt too removed way up there too. A couple of times she’d donned a nondescript cap and roamed the stadium, watching from behind both dugouts. One of the perks of being an owner—she could flash her pass and go where she liked.

“Where’s Scotty?” Alana asked from her perch.

Was it Chloe’s imagination or did the woman practically coo? The little hairs at the back of Chloe’s neck rose up, those hairs that presaged a fight.

“On the field,” Alex said with a laugh. “Did you think he’d be up here drinking cocktails with us?” He pointed to the bullpen. “Hate to disappoint you.”

Alana picked up binoculars from a side table and peered down at the field.

“Ooooh, I do love watching him,” she said, letting out a breath.

“The Sabers made a great deal, getting Scotty,” Alex said, turning to Chloe. “But I bet you know that.” His grin had acceptance and kindness plastered all over it.

She knew he wasn’t rubbing it in. It was a simple fact, if you knew anything about the game. Scotty had numbers that could put the Sabers back in World Series territory. But if Alex and Scotty were buddies, he must miss him. She felt bad about that.

“He’s got those fab shoulders,” Alana said as she fiddled with the focusing mechanism on the binoculars. “I love pitchers’ shoulders. I won’t say what else looks good; Alex would blush.”

Alex didn’t pay any attention to Alana’s blatant remarks, but they sent ire zapping through Chloe.

“He has a brain, you know,” Chloe said before she thought.

Alana kept her eyes glued into the binoculars. “My dear, with a body like that, he surely doesn’t need one.”

“Ignore her.” Alex chuckled. “She likes to razz my friends.”

Alana might be yanking Alex’s chain, but Chloe felt the sneaky, snaking fingers of jealousy thread into her chest. She hadn’t felt jealousy like that since tenth grade.

She turned and poured a glass of water from the bar, knowing she was being ridiculous. Her father’s legacy, the team, the business—
that’s
what she needed her energy for. Jealousy wasn’t useful at all.

“We’re still invited to the friends and family picnic next week, aren’t we, Alex?” Alana put the binoculars back on the table. “I’d like to see that
brainy
friend of yours again, even if I do have to play volleyball.” She smiled at Chloe. “It’s a ridiculous sport, you know, batting a ball over the net with your hands. That’s what racquets are for.”

Chloe heard no guile in the woman’s tone, just straightforward chasing of a man who’d caught her eye. She couldn’t know of Chloe’s feelings about Scotty. No one did except Brigitte.

“I think Scotty should rethink inviting any of us,” Alex said. He shot a sideways grin at Chloe. “We’re mighty on the volleyball court, but trouble most everywhere else.”

“I’m told management needs a couple of ringers if we’re to have any chance of beating the players,” Chloe said, making an effort for an even tone. She had no idea how the teams were chosen, but she knew it’d be more fun to have Jackie and Alex at the picnic. She wasn’t so sure about Alana, but she couldn’t disinvite her. She looked at Jackie. “I hope you’ll come.”

“Of course they’ll come.” Dick Fisher’s voice made Chloe jump—she hadn’t seen him enter the box. “It’ll be good for Donovan to have his old gang around him. Might help pick up his game.” He shot Chloe a speaking glance. “Don’t you agree, Miss McNalley?”

Chloe pressed her lips together and bit back the beginning of a snarky reply. She hated the way Fisher made decisions and then asked her in a patronizing way if she agreed. Most of the time she didn’t, but she’d decided to choose her battles wisely. Of the many things she learned from her dad, one was the importance of timing.

There were times when Fisher’s smoothness and outward charm seemed almost menacing. From what she’d seen of him, he wasn’t a community-minded sort of guy. Not to mention she’d already sensed that he had some underlying issue with Scotty. She’d seen from her dad’s notes that he’d ignored Fisher and orchestrated the trade for Scotty himself. How he’d done it as sick as he was amazed her. Exactly
why
he’d done it she was still sorting out.

And was it her imagination or had Alex stiffened when Fisher spoke? Alex’s contract with the Giants was up at the end of the season. Maybe Fisher had approached him. But she could tell from Alex’s cool demeanor that whatever Fisher was up to, it wasn’t working.

She’d call George Ellis as soon as the game was over. It was time they talked some baseball.

“I love American picnics,” Royce Berenson said as he slipped a beer from the galvanized tub at the end of the wooden table.

Chloe had invited Royce to the friends and family picnic on a whim. He’d been in town less than two weeks and knew no one. But he’d agreed to take on her teaching commitments. His disappointment that she wouldn’t be on staff during his visiting professorship had seemed genuine. Hers was too; giving up teaching had been harder than she’d expected. She’d driven to Stanford and introduced him to her class and used the opportunity to say her goodbyes. Royce could handle the subject—he was a rising star in cosmology and had glowing reviews from his colleagues at Oxford. Her class would be well served. Besides, Royce’s crisp English accent and roguish good looks had the women in the class swooning within minutes.

Across the parking lot, Scotty pulled up in a BMW convertible. He opened the door, and the dog he’d rescued leaped out. It didn’t look like the same animal. His coat was still patchy, but his body had filled out. The dog wagged his tail with a healthy enthusiasm as he waited for Scotty to put on his leash.

“Friend of yours?” Royce grinned.

“One of the Sabers’ pitchers.” She walked to the cooler and pulled out a beer.

“I meant the dog.”

“Oh. I helped rescue him. That player took him in.”

“I had an Australian Kelpie once.” He took a long swig of his beer. “Great breed.”

To her horror, Royce put down his beer and headed straight across the parking lot. He bent down, scratched the dog under his collar and exchanged a few words with Scotty. If there was one thing that could uncork the stiffest Englishman, it was a dog. Chloe sipped her beer while Royce and Scotty stood talking. After a few minutes Royce waved her over. She could hardly refuse.

“It
is
a Kelpie,” he said when she reached them. “Scotty here says he had him tested. I knew it was.”

Chloe knelt down and the dog came right to her, wagging his tail.

“He can’t possibly remember me.”

“I think you’d be rather hard to forget,” Royce said. Scotty frowned at him. Chloe was grateful that Royce was looking at the dog. “I mean,” Royce added smoothly, “what with your being part of his rescue and new life.”

She started to correct him and say that she wasn’t part of the dog’s new life and that she hadn’t had much of a hand in the rescue, but realized that all that explaining would show just how nervous she was kneeling there, close to Scotty.

She stood and smoothed her hands down the sides of her capris. “What did you name him?”

“Smokey.”

Chloe hoped she was imagining the clipped tone in his voice. He had no reason to dislike Royce, and she wanted so badly for the guy to have a fun day.

Scotty nodded toward a row of trees. “I’m going to put the top up and move my car into the shade. Smokey’s still not used to loads of people around. He’ll be happier in the car.”

“He’s a charming fellow,” Royce said as he walked Chloe back to the picnic table.

“I think he’ll turn out to be a great dog. Already is.”

“I meant Scotty.” He winked at her, and she didn’t like the smile she saw. It wasn’t unkind, just mischievous. “I hadn’t imagined meeting a baseball player who has a ken for cosmology.” He took a swig of his beer. “Before coming to California, I hadn’t imagined meeting a baseball player at all, come to think of it.”

Definitely mischievous.

“You two certainly got the measure of each other in a short time.” It was the most neutral retort she could come up with.

“Male trait: who, what, when. We don’t waste time on why.”

She laughed.

A spark came into his eyes as he glanced over her shoulder. “Cosmologist coming this way,” he said with a grin.

Scotty headed straight for Chloe. There weren’t many people at the picnic yet, and he wanted to talk with her before it got crowded. Already he didn’t like the way her professor date was making her laugh. The guy made it look easy. Probably some academic joke about galaxies or dark matter. What he had to tell her wasn’t going to make her laugh, but it was important, and who knew when he’d have another opportunity?