Going All the Way (Knights of Passion Book 1) (5 page)

And her biggest mistake.

Shit. This wasn’t her. She never did things like this, always maintaining control. She had to get out of here, preferably quietly and without witnesses. If her father ever found out, he’d kill her.

She scanned the room, looking for her clothes. She had to get out of here before anyone saw her, further shredding her reputation. As if being fired and humiliated wasn’t enough. She hoped no one had heard her last night.

She grabbed a pillow and wedged it between her and Jason, then slid toward the edge of the bed, slipping out from under the warm arm. He mumbled in his sleep and repositioned himself, pulling the pillow closer and letting her escape.

She exhaled for maybe the first time that morning. Easing up from the bed, she located her clothes, jeans kicked over the easy chair in the corner, blouse hanging from the light by the closet, bra and underwear tossed on the floor. She gathered her things and slipped into the bathroom, groaning from the soreness in her thighs.

After splashing some water on her face, and slipping into her clothes from last night, she left the bathroom. Jason still slept, snoring softly. She stepped closer to the bed, temptation pulling her like a siren. Just one last touch, one last taste. Then she’d leave forever. She ran her fingers lightly over his back and shoulder, the warmth almost making her forget her decision to leave.

How had she gotten so lucky finding a man like Jason when she needed a boost? She had never believed in luck. Her father preached daily about the fairy tale that was luck. But something had brought this man into her life at the right time. Luck was as good a guess as anything.

She grinned, thinking of how she had worn him out. Maybe she was desirable. Clearly, someone had fun with her, found her sexy and attractive.

At the thought of her father, reality crashed in. A ripple of fear traveled up her spine. What if someone saw her leaving? The reporters should be gone; the story was last night. Thank God this was a one-time affair, no matter how much her hormones begged for a repeat.

He stirred, making a low sound deep in his throat. She froze, hoping he wouldn’t wake, although she’d heard that morning sex was always fun. She’d prefer to sneak out and avoid a scene. She turned to leave then paused. Should she leave a note? What would she say?

No note. No awkward goodbyes or insincere promises. It was an anonymous, wonderful evening.

She quietly slipped out of the door, with one last regretful glance at Jason, sleeping peacefully. He’d been the one aberration in her quiet, orderly life. The one act to feel she wasn’t a complete failure as a woman, as her father thought she was.

Now, it was time to move on.

*

Jason woke, stretching
sore muscles and cracking a jaw-popping yawn. He reached next to him and only felt a cold pillow, soft but not warm as the woman he’d spent the night with. He bolted up and glanced around, taking in his suitcases piled by the armoire and the empty space by the easy chair, where her jeans had landed in their frenzy the night before. He strode to the bathroom. A still damp face towel rested on the counter. No Stacia.

Nothing of her remained. Not a trace that she had ever existed.

He sat on the edge of the bed. Maybe it was better this way. He didn’t need the trappings of a girlfriend or, God forbid, another groupie looking for a happy-ever-after with a rich ball-player, or even a blackballed, out-of-work player like him. Yet it stung his pride like an inside pitch—slipping out as if she was embarrassed by their night together. Was this how women felt when he did that? Now he understood why they were so pissed when he left. It was all part of the game, right? They knew there was no happy ending, not beyond that night.

This time, though, he had thought they had made a connection, more than sex. He should be happy that she hadn’t subjected him to the drama of the morning after. The asking for phone numbers. When can I see you again? How could I have done this?

No, the best he could hope for is that she remained as discreet as she did slipping out the door.

He reached for the bottle of water next to the bed and saw the business card peeking out from under his wallet, the one he casually slipped out of her bag while she was distracted at the bar last night. He fingered it.

Stacia Kendall, Image Consultant

Well, at least he knew who she really was if he ever needed, or wanted, to find her.

But he was still pissed.

T
he stadium was
quiet with the team traveling this week. The business of baseball carried on behind the scenes, just past the door to the conference room where Jason and his agent, Scott, sat. Jason’s pulse pounded in his ears, choking the silence. He sat, poised on the edge of his seat, muscles rigid, gaze fixed on an unseen point outside the conference room window, the fetid scent of desperation in the air. Scott sat beside him as he had during Jason’s sharp nosedive to baseball’s blacklist. If this deal didn’t happen, Jason would be forced to retire. No ceremonies. No fanfare. No fans.

His chest felt hollow at the thought. What would he do if no one wanted him, if this contract didn’t pan out? Go home, wherever that was, and do what? He’d been sitting on his ass for the past several months, with one goal – to get a new contract. Now, if he didn’t get it, what was next? What was life after baseball?

The conference room was designed to impress, containing pictures of players diving, sliding, and pitching. One picture showed the team shareholders gathered around the strong-willed and heavily involved Seamus Callahan. The rags-to-riches controlling team owner had steamrolled his way into baseball with his wife’s money and his bravado.

The team finally had a winning season and the old man was in his glory. But, as quickly as they had risen, the team had also plummeted, all due to the usual suspects – injuries, fatigue, and lack of leadership were slowly killing their chances. That was where Jason came in, or so he hoped.

Seamus Callahan sat at the head of the table. A single life-sized picture of himself dominated the wall behind the head of the table, his scowl and glare, both in the picture and on his craggy face, demanded, “Succeed or get out.”

Got ego? Jason snorted, then smiled when Scott turned and glared at him like a child caught screwing around in church.

Scott leaned over, speaking under his breath. “If you want to play baseball this year, or ever again, behave yourself. The Knights may not be your first choice, but they’re your only choice. Seamus is very prickly and proud. Don’t piss him off.”

“Must be the size,” Jason muttered gazing down at Seamus who was obviously shorter than most people in the room. Such a stereotype.

Scott frowned but, before he could say anything, the door opened and a tall blonde woman rushed into the room, a whirlwind of activity and a welcome change to the stuffy atmosphere. Jason automatically stood. His mother had ingrained that into him and he had kept up the habit. Helped get women every time. Not that he needed any help, well, not until the shoulder injury. Since then, he’d been in a dry spell, and hadn’t really noticed until last night.

Scott dug his elbow into Jason’s thigh, shaking him out of his thoughts. Everyone was staring at him, Seamus and his general manager, Cole Hammonds, were scowling, while the woman had a blinding smile on her face and something else in her eyes – gratitude? Amusement? He wasn’t sure. The time away from women had addled his brain and screwed with his instincts.

He sat down abruptly and laughed. “My mother always insisted I stand when a lady came in the room. Can’t seem to shake the habit. My apologies.”

Seamus’s scowl subsided slightly, although he still stared at Jason suspiciously. Cole frowned at the woman instead of Jason, until she sat down. For her part, her smile faded and she slipped into a seat across from Jason, and looked down at the papers in front of her.

“That’s my daughter, Miranda. She’s learning the ropes before I die so she can take over, unless she marries suitably and he can run the team. But for now, it’s all her. And she’s off limits, Friar. Got it?”

Jason gave a quick jerk of his head acknowledging the warning. He could have soothed old man Callahan’s mind. He wasn’t interested in her any more than she was interested in him. A lifetime of studying women had taught him how to quickly gauge interest and she didn’t have it. It was clear that Seamus was interested in partnering his GM with his daughter, yet the two people involved seemed to have no interest in each other. No, Jason said none of that and settled for a quick nod of his head.

Scott heaved a sigh of relief, barely audible to anyone else, and Jason realized how much Scott was counting on this contract. He knew the situation was bad but hadn’t thought about the impact on his agent, so wrapped up in his own little world, population one. Damn, he was happier when it was population one but now there was a second person he always forgot about, someone who relied on him for their livelihood. And Scott’s youngest daughter had some health issues so he couldn’t afford to spend his time on losers and players who weren’t making money. The fact that he had stuck with Jason this long was commendable. And made Jason feel like a class-A ass.

The least he could do was be an adult and professional about this.

Seamus shuffled papers in front of him and frowned over the top of them. “You’re a goddamn mess, boy. No wonder my scouts were so against you. Drinking, partying, womanizing. Ha.”

Jason jumped at the sudden bark of laughter. At least everyone else jumped too. Where was he going with this?

Scott cleared his throat and started to speak, but Callahan held up a hand and continued talking.

“On the other hand, very impressive batting average, home run totals, RBIs, even a Gold Glove. Not bad. On the hall of fame track, in fact. Until you screwed the pooch. Steroids?” Seamus arched a bushy white eyebrow at him, his craggy face scowling as if the word itself tasted like poison.

Rage exploded throughout Jason’s body, hot and liquid. The room tilted around him. He surged to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. “That’s bullshit. I never used drugs of any sort.”

Cole shot to his feet, faster than he expected a suit to move. “Back off, Friar. Told you this was a bad idea, Mr. Callahan.”

Scott placed a hand on Jason’s arm, reminding him of the importance of calm, rational thought and action, pulling him back from another huge mistake, one from which he might never recover. Jason slowly sunk back in his seat, fighting to regain his composure.

“I’ve denied those charges and even filed a lawsuit against the league. They have no proof, no positive tests, no admission.”

“Just one of your teammates accusing you of using and providing him with performance-enhancing drugs.”

A slow heat burned his face, pulse throbbing in his temples. He clenched his fists under the table in a vain attempt to control the rage. When he spoke, his voice was even but a thread of the hidden anger ran through the words. “He was saving his own ass by turning on everyone else.”

“So you turned on him first. Is that the kind of teammate you are, turning on your fellow players? Must make for an uncomfortable clubhouse.” Cole spoke for the first time from Callahan’s side, his tone mild but the rebuke and distaste was obvious.

Jason shrugged. “He betrayed me first and lied about it. What kind of teammate is that?”

“Irrelevant. He got banned for life from baseball while you rode into the sunset on your white horse.”

Jason snorted. “Some sunset. No job, balky shoulder, bad rep. Yeah, I really made out good in the deal.”

Seamus nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. After a long pause, and an exchange of glances with his general manager, Seamus cleared his throat. “Well, your screw-up could be our gain. You’re not my first choice for a first baseman but we just lost our guy for the season.”

“Or longer if he gets a fine for his drug use.”

Seamus pursed his lips, irritated at the interruption. “Yes, his drug use was…unfortunate. We don’t condone that behavior here and your past is not recommending you for this position. My daughter has pointed out that you could be a huge liability for us. Your old friend, Senator Kendall, is one of my biggest adversaries and would love nothing more than to screw my business. The only other person he has a bigger hard-on for is you. Signing you would tweak his temper and be very satisfying for me.”

“Either way, you’re still a huge liability for us.” Miranda smoothly stepped in to the short pause. “We’re a family-friendly ballpark, working very hard to build good relations with the community. Eduardo’s accident and revelations about drugs hurt our image. We’re getting slammed in the papers and on talk radio.”

Seamus frowned at her and broke in. “Our goal is to win. Who gives a damn about papers and radio commentators?”

“We should, since they influence our fans. If our fans are unhappy, they might not come to the ballpark. We need their money to stay in business.” Miranda smiled at her father but there was no amusement in her gaze.

Cole smoothly leaned forward between the dueling family members, blocking the staring contest. “As you can see, you’ve stumbled upon an ancient argument, as old as the chicken versus the egg. Which came first, the fans or the game? Either way, we have serious concerns about adding you to the roster. Probably the most important is your health. Can you still be effective after rotator cuff surgery and at your age?”