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Authors: Pamela Aares

Tags: #Romance, #woman's fiction, #baseball, #Contemporary, #sports

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BOOK: Thrown By Love
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And then the light in his eyes faded and lost focus. A moment later, those eyes went blank. His hand still gripped hers, but it felt different. They were connected, still, but the energy had shifted. She sat in the silence, enveloped in an uncanny feeling, as if she were floating away with him. She stared at him and couldn’t bring herself to let go of his hand, even as it cooled against hers. Time passed and passed again until she once more heard the sounds in the hospital corridor, understood that others around her were still involved in their own battles against death. But all she could feel was the ache of the gaping space where her heart had been carved out of her body.
A nurse came in, almost tiptoeing. Chloe knew she’d been in a couple of times already, but this time she focused her gaze on Chloe.
“Miss McNalley, the undertakers are here. Your dad called them this morning. They’re ready to take him now.”
Chloe nodded. How long she would’ve sat there, she’d never know. Leave it to her dad to call the last shot.

 

 

Chapter Six

 

Scotty pulled into the parking garage of a condominium tower in San Jose. He couldn’t believe it. One day he was pitching for the Giants and the next he’d been traded to the San Jose Sabers.
Just like that.
He had exactly one day to find a place to live near the Sabers’ stadium. He cursed that it was just far enough away from his place in San Francisco that he couldn’t commute.
He should’ve listened to his agent and had a no-trade clause put into his contract, but he’d been so thrilled to play for the Giants that he hadn’t wanted to do anything to rock the boat.
The whole deal had been weird. He’d heard the rumor that the Sabers sweetened the deal with cash, lots of cash. The incentive bonus the Sabers had paid him wasn’t usual either. He liked the money, of course he did. But he’d rather be playing in the city he loved, on a team he loved.
Deep down the whole thing felt wrong.
He hadn’t been pitching well, had had worse than a rocky start to his season. So to be paid off like that made him feel like a fraud. Sure, he’d made the All-Star team his rookie year, but still, this deal didn’t make any sense. But that’s the way the game was going these days, and there was no predicting it. In the past week several of his friends had been traded with no warning, and now he knew how they felt. In three years, when he would become a free agent, he’d have better control over his life. If he got his game back.
He slammed the car door.
When
he got his game back.
His agent, Tracy, had been just as astonished as he was. When she’d called him on the road with the news, he did the math and figured out that the deal had gone through two days
before
Chloe had helped him rescue the dog. Why that made him feel better, he wasn’t sure. He just didn’t want to think she’d had anything to do with it; having her involved in any way would be creepy.
He hadn’t spoken with Chloe since the day they’d shared lunch in his apartment four days earlier. The call she’d answered that afternoon had cut short what he was sure would’ve been more than just a meal and a kiss. But seeing her upset had wrenched his gut. If he contacted her, maybe she’d let him help her, maybe figure out where they stood.
Right. Who was he kidding?
They couldn’t stand anywhere.
Her dad owned the team he now played for. She might as well have a neon sign that said
Do Not Enter
hanging over her head.
To even imagine he could have a relationship with her would be insane.
He followed the real estate agent through the condo as she pointed out all the usual features. But his mind wasn’t on views and bathrooms and kitchen appliances. His mind was on Chloe McNalley. Right then he didn’t worry much about insane. The kiss they’d shared at his place could’ve lit half the West Coast. It’d shocked the hell out of him and from the look in her eyes, it’d had the same effect on Chloe.
He signed the papers for the condo and arranged for his things to be moved in at the end of the week. When he got back to his place in San Francisco, he called his buddy and now former teammate, Alex Tavonesi. Scotty leaned his elbow against the living room window and stared out at the Golden Gate Bridge. Damn, he didn’t want to sublet; maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d keep the condo and live there in the off-season. It’d be a small consolation, he groused as he waited for Alex to answer. He had to talk to someone, or he might just put his fist through a wall.

 

 

Sonoma was a longer drive than Scotty remembered. But he’d started out from San Jose; it wasn’t the quick jaunt it’d been from his old place in San Francisco. Tomorrow he’d pitch his first game for the Sabers and probably regret letting Alex talk him into driving all the way up to Trovare.
He pulled over and lowered the roof of his convertible. It was a beautiful day; he might as well take it in.
Fifteen minutes later he spotted the massive oaks flanking the turn to Alex’s place. At the top of the drive, the towers and spreading vineyards of Trovare came into view. It was more than the usual Sonoma winery. Alex’s father had built a medieval-style castle and winery, stone by stone. Though Scotty had become accustomed to the place since he and Alex had become friends, the grandeur still stunned him. But the grandeur and all the work it represented made Alex's life crazy. He managed to deal with the vineyard and stay in the game but juggling two separate, highly demanding lives took its toll no matter how Alex like to make light of the challenge.
“Whoa!” Alex waved him down as he approached the stone circle at the foot of the drawbridge. “Slow down, these are country roads. If you need advice that bad, I’d better call in Sabrina.”
“I don’t think even your sister could sort this one out,” Scotty said as he jumped out of his car. “I’ve come to reverse the spell from your damn gargoyle.”
“Told you it’d haunt you,” Alex said, extending his hand.
The previous year Scotty had teased Alex about the stone dragon perched over the drawbridge. Alex had joked that it was supposed to ward off the women who got off on having sex with players. Scotty had been aghast—he wasn’t into turning women away. That was the evening Alex told Scotty he’d sworn off women in an attempt to focus on his game—the same night Alex had met Jackie Brandon, the woman whose adventures with criminals had not only almost cost Alex the Triple Crown, but also his life. Only eight months after Alex and Jackie had met, Scotty had been best man at their wedding. So while the universe might not be sensitive to the timing of humans, it evidently had an ironic sense of humor.
Scotty didn’t want to believe that the gargoyle joke had jinxed him and that instead of making him want women who were more than willing to share his bed, he’d been bowled over by the one woman he had to stay away from. But the way he was obsessing over Chloe McNalley, nothing added up.
As they walked back up the drive, he told Alex about the night he’d met Chloe and the beach walk and rescuing the dog. He didn’t tell him about how she haunted his dreams or that since meeting her he’d been so distracted he’d actually forgotten several pitch sequences, sequences he had down pat.
“Find somebody to take your mind off her,” Alex said. “My cousin Alana’s still hot for you. Or you could take your own sage advice and just mix it up on the road.”
Scotty kicked at a branch that had fallen onto the drive. “I seem to have lost my appetite for road sex.”
Alex let out a low whistle. “The women on the last road trip must’ve been disappointed.” His grin faded when he looked at Scotty. “You sure you’re the same guy who just last year told me to stick with quick flings and then gentle and mutual toss-offs? The guy who told me to focus on my game and keep relationships on the back burner?” He raised a brow. “Maybe your body got switched with some sort of gentlemanly ghost when they traded you last week.”
“Don’t remind me.” When he’d given Alex that flip advice, he hadn’t known what it meant to be obsessed. Scotty picked up the branch and tossed it into the mulch in front of a row of vines. “The vineyard’s looking good.”
“If the weather holds, we’ll have a bumper crop.” Alex crossed his arms. “Kind of a long way to come to talk about the weather.”
“She’s a professor. Teaches cosmology. I Googled her.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “She’s mighty good at it. Maybe she doesn’t even like baseball.”
Alex shook his head. “The plot thickens.”
“I watched one of her classes online. There must’ve been a hundred students at her lecture. She’s like a poet, she makes the science come alive, she—”

Enough
,” Alex said with a dramatic wave of his hands. “You’re right, this is way beyond Sabrina’s expertise. And way beyond mine. You don’t even know if she likes you.”
“She likes me.” He was relieved when Alex didn’t ask how he knew. A couple of ball-rocking kisses and a dance didn’t exactly add up. “But I haven’t told you the worst of it. She’s Chloe McNalley. Peter McNalley’s only child.”
Alex stepped back, giving Scotty a stare he wished he could perfect on the mound. No one could get a hit off a man with a stare like that.
“Has it registered that she’s the daughter of the man who owns the team you’re playing for?” Alex said. “Starting
tomorrow
? And maybe worse than a bad choice for a girlfriend?”
“That’s what’s weird—it doesn’t feel like a choice. It’s like I’m possessed.”
Alex looked somber. “Wish I could tell you that you weren’t.”
“Maybe I should make an offering to the gargoyle,” Scotty said with a nod toward the drawbridge. He was only half-kidding.
“I hear it likes BMWs.” Alex grinned. When Scotty didn’t laugh, he crossed his arms and leaned back against Scotty’s car. “Better just focus on your game.”
“I saw how well that worked for you.”
Alex shrugged. They both knew it hadn’t.

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

Chloe stepped into the sunny offices of her father’s attorney. Funny how, since Mike Thomas had been the family attorney since before she was born, she’d never been there before. She’d seen Mike at events and often when he’d ventured out to Woodlands, the McNalley family estate, but she’d never been to his office. She had fond memories of Mike and her dad talking in the chilly winter evenings, of curling up with a book at one end of the library and listening to their passionate discussions about baseball. She especially loved those nights when Charley Kemp, the Sabers' manager, and George Ellis, then the general manager, were there too. The group would gather and talk late into the night, often forgetting that Chloe sat listening in the comfy chair in a far corner. In their stories, the game took on an almost mythic quality, with heroes and bad guys and miraculous plays and strokes of fortune. Maybe that was when she’d fallen in love with the game. It was a love that had snuck up on her.
Maybe anything worth loving always did.
The cheery office was a stark contrast to the stuffy and dark funeral parlor and the dim cathedral where they’d held her dad’s memorial. That day she’d had to speak in front of a thousand people who had come to pay their respects. She was still numb from it all and couldn’t imagine ever feeling any better. When Mike’s receptionist led her through the door leading to his private office, she felt like she was drifting in a fog.
“I’m so sorry, Chloe. You must be exhausted.” Mike motioned her to an overstuffed chair facing his desk.
“Beyond exhausted.”
“Your eulogy touched all of us. Your dad would’ve been proud.”
To her horror, she started to cry. Mike handed her a tissue from the holder on his desk.
“I’d like to have waited a few weeks for this meeting,” she heard him say as she blew her nose, “but your father’s instructions were explicit.”
“I’m okay. Let’s do this.” She tucked the tissue in her lap and straightened her spine. “There will never be a good time.”
He slid his gaze away from her. What did that mean? What news could he possibly have that could disturb or hurt her any worse than losing her father? It wasn’t like she needed more money, so her dad could’ve left it all to the Humane Society and she wouldn’t have said a word.
BOOK: Thrown By Love
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