Hardball (35 page)

Nate’s mind leaped ahead, thinking through the obstacles. He could feel the sweat seeping through his linen shirt, even though it was a lot cooler outside than it had been in the club. But the thought of Holly alone in that house scared the hell out of him.

“I’ll be out of here tomorrow,” he said, already trying to figure out how he’d explain that to the Patriots management.

“Good. But you know you’ll have to do some fancy talking to the front office about that,” Jake cautioned.

“No kidding. They want me to pitch another game here on Sunday. But all I know is that I have to get back home and be with Holly. I’m sure as hell not sitting around here twiddling my thumbs until Sunday night.”

As soon as he hung up, Nate hurried back into the bar and told Pedro he had to get back to the hotel. Though the catcher gave him a puzzled stare, he didn’t ask any questions.

In the cab, he thought hard about calling Holly but decided against it. He knew she’d pooh-pooh the danger, even if she was scared shitless. She’d put down her stubborn little foot and try to talk him out of coming back. Then they’d have another stupid fight.

No, he had a better idea, and it didn’t matter whether Holly liked it or not. She wanted commitment? Hell. He was just getting started.

Holly jumped at the chime of her doorbell. Then she swore under her breath for being such a wimp, reacting badly to every little thing.

“Just a sec,” she yelled toward the front door. Only minutes had passed since she’d arrived home. Exhausted from lack of sleep—she’d been up most of the night, startling at every noise and repeatedly checking the locks—she’d left the hospital early to catch up on paperwork and reading at home. In the middle of changing out of her work clothes, she quickly pulled on shorts and yanked a tank top over her head. Barefoot, she hurried to the door.

Her over-active imagination pictured Lance Arnold on the other side, but she banished the frightening image. There wasn’t much chance the lunatic would be standing on her porch at four in the afternoon, politely ringing the bell while Holly’s next door neighbor weeded her flower garden.

Still, she peered carefully through the peephole before touching the latch. What she saw made her take a quick step backward, almost losing her balance.

Oh, God! What’s he doing here?

She took a deep breath and unhooked the safety chain with trembling hands.

Nate, looking fierce and determined, brushed past her into the living room before she had a chance to react. “We have to talk. I tried the hospital and they told me you’d gone home.”

Holly stood frozen, dumbfounded. Not only had he shown up unannounced at her door after no contact for two weeks, he’d barged straight into her house and started ordering her around! Her initial, instinctive reaction of relief gave way to irritation.

“Well, hello, Nate. How are you? I’d invite you to come in, but that’s clearly unnecessary now.” Planting her feet apart and crossing her arms, she glowered at him. She must look like she was ready to strangle him, because that was how she felt.

Well, she also wanted to leap on him and rip his clothes off, but that was just her body being stupid. Belatedly, she noticed he’d brought a sports bag with him, which he now dropped with a thump onto the floor.

Nate looked like he wanted to laugh at her retort, but then caught her expression and stopped himself. “I heard what happened with Arnold. How he’s calling again. I couldn’t sit up there in Canada wondering if he was really going to try to get at you.”

Her heart started to flutter, and she pressed a hand to her chest. “How did you find out?”

“Doesn’t matter. Listen, babe, I’m not going to let you face this guy alone. I was awake all night, thinking hard about it.” He pointed to the sports bag. “I’m moving in with you until the cops nail the bastard, and don’t even try to tell me no.” He mimicked her gestures by planting his feet wide and crossing his arms, looking much more intimidating than she ever could.

Holly’s legs almost collapsed out from under her. She managed to steady herself by leaning against the archway to the living room. Speechless, scared, thrilled, all she could manage was a shake of her head.

He wagged his index finger at her. “No, don’t go shaking your head,” he said firmly. “You know damn well you should have somebody around to watch out for you. The cops can’t do it.”

True enough. But that didn’t mean she could let him stay. Even though it felt right on so many levels, she
knew
it was wrong.

He grimaced and his eyes pleaded with her. “Let me do this for you, Holly. You need my help.”

She’d dreamed of someday living with Nate. The last two weeks, more than she cared to think about, she’d wept over the death of that dream. Now here he was, suitcase and all, ready to move in. But this wasn’t the stuff of dreams. Lance Arnold had made it the stuff of nightmares.

Holly couldn’t seem to find the right words to explain it. Nate must not have been expecting a lengthy silence, because he tilted his head and gave her a puzzled look.

She cleared her throat. “I appreciate your concern. I really do. But I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you. I don’t need a bodyguard. Or a babysitter. And I’m sure you have lots going on in your own life.” Knowing him, he probably even had a new girlfriend by now.

That nasty little thought stiffened her spine, and she glared back at him.

Nate’s mouth thinned into a hard, determined line. He looked as if he’d like to pull her onto his lap and spank her. Somehow, the thought didn’t alarm her as much as it should have.

“Come on, Holly. You’re smart and capable and tough. You’ve got nothing to prove. But if that creep gets a chance, he’ll grab you, and I don’t think you’ll be able to do much about it.”

When he took a step toward her, she backed away. More than anything, she wanted to collapse into his arms, but there was too much at stake for self-indulgent weakness. He couldn’t stay forever, and then what would she do when he left again?

Nate threw up his hands in frustration. “Jesus, woman! Just let me help you, okay? I can’t stand by and do nothing when you’re in danger.”

Holly shook her head again, but she could feel her resolve start to erode. “I can’t do it, Nate. I just can’t,” she pleaded.

Now his eyes gleamed, as if he sensed her weakening. “Sure, you can,” he said in a coaxing voice. “Because if you kick me out of here, I swear I’ll sit on your sidewalk all day and sleep in my car out front all night.”

She stared at him, all six-feet-five inches of rampant masculinity, hard as a rock, his jaw set with a determination she knew meant he’d stop at nothing to keep her safe. It made her feel all gooey inside, but it also scared the hell out of her. If he stayed with her, they’d end up in bed at some point as sure as the sun rose every day in the east. When it came to him, she was that weak.

On the other hand, her head told her that accepting Nate’s protection was the smart thing to do. If Arnold was going to do something, it would probably be soon after the court order was issued. Having Nate around for a few days would help her get through the crisis.

“All right, all right. ” Holly grabbed the sports bag at her feet and tossed it across to him. “You can sleep in the spare bedroom.”

His eyes narrowed on her.

“Yes, the spare bedroom,” she said firmly, determined to at least make the effort to resist him. “And let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Nate Carter.”

“Which is?”

“Which is that you are my house guest and my bodyguard. Period.”

Nate’s mouth lifted in a knowing smile that she recognized. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, giving her a snap salute. “But my repertoire of services does go beyond protection, if you ever happen to be…”

“Forget it, Casanova. Been there, done that. Didn’t get the tee shirt. Too many other women already have them anyway.”

Ouch.
She wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of her mouth.

Nate’s face darkened as he dropped his bag and propped his hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Holly jumped in before he had a chance to speak. “That was stupid of me. I apologize.”

He nodded, but still looked annoyed. “Apology accepted. But you really should get over that stuff. I’m not perfect, but I’m not the same guy I was before I met you, either. But I guess you haven’t figured that out yet.”

Suddenly, weariness overwhelmed her. She needed some space. “Look, Nate, I’ve agreed I need your help, and I’m grateful. But it’s not going to work if we keep rehashing past mistakes. I’m sorry I said what I said. Can we please just leave it at that?”

Nate rolled his eyes and headed toward the steps. “God, you’re stubborn, but I’ll concede the point.” He glanced back at her. “For now.”

She drew in an exasperated breath but he cut her off before she could say a word. “I could use a shower, if that’s all right,” he said in a much-too-cheery voice. “It’s hot as hell out there.”

Jerk.

“Of course,” she answered in her most polite southern belle manner. “I hope you brought your own shampoo, or you’ll have to use my girlie stuff. It smells like roses.” She glanced pointedly at her watch, hoping he’d get the message. “I’ll make us some dinner in an hour or so. Right now, I’m going out to the back yard with a bottle of Pinot Grigio. I can use a drink after this. Help yourself to whatever you can find. There’s beer in the fridge.”

Then she turned on her heel and stomped off to the kitchen. Maybe she imagined it, but she thought she heard a soft, satisfied laugh coming from the stairs.

* * *

Nate peered out the front window through the slats of the vinyl blinds. There were no cars parked out front, and no one in sight on the street. At six-thirty in the morning, it didn’t surprise him that the streets were virtually empty. He’d been monitoring the area outside the house most of the night, hoping for a glimpse of Arnold driving by or hanging around.

The tantalizing aroma of brewing coffee wafted in from the kitchen. Holly had set the timer before she went to bed and the machine had kicked on a few minutes ago. Then he heard the shower go on in her bathroom, and his mind filled with images of all the showers they’d taken together, especially the long, luxurious ones at his Florida condo.

And what cock-stiffening images they were. Holly’s lean, sensual body, partly hidden by the rich lather of body wash, her back and bottom molded into him. Him covering the nape of her beautiful, elegant neck in kisses as he reached around to take her sweet breasts in his hands. His insistent erection crushed against her, seeking her hot, ready sheath as the warm water cascaded over them.

The torture of living so close to her was worse than he’d imagined it would be when he decided to move in. But he was committed to protecting her, and there was no way he was going to cut and run until he’d seen her through this crap with Arnold. He’d just have to suck it up and try to keep those delicious but agonizing memories as far from his conscious mind as he could.

Or, better yet, figure out how to capitalize on them, because he was pretty damn sure she was thinking the same things he was.

The water in the bathroom shut off. A few minutes later, Holly emerged with a towel wrapped around her head, wearing a shortie pink robe. Her gorgeous, tanned legs seemed to go on for miles

Shit.
Talk about torture. There ought to be a law against what she was doing to him.

“Good morning,” she smiled, glancing at him before she turned into the kitchen. “Looks like the coffee’s ready.”

“Great,” he growled. “Pour yourself a cup and I’ll drink the rest straight from the carafe. Unless you’ve got a syringe in your doctor bag and can inject it straight into one of my veins.”

Her smile told him she was just pulling his chain. He smiled back. “Most people have a watch dog. I guess you’ve got a watch elephant.”

Her answering laugh hummed through his veins, blasting away his fatigue. It was the best thing he’d heard in weeks, and it made him realize all over again how empty his life seemed without her.

“I’ll be ready to go in about twenty minutes,” she said. “You okay with that?”

“Sure. I’ll shower after I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“What are you going to do today?” she asked, taking a carton of blueberry yogurt from the fridge and pulling the top off. She grabbed a spoon and dug in.

“Oh, I have to go to the ballpark and get my ass kicked,” he said.

She stopped with the spoon in mid-air. “You have to what?”

He grinned. “I have to prostrate myself in front of the general manager, and beg Mr. Dembinski’s exalted forgiveness for going AWOL from the farm team.”

She bit her full lower lip, looking guilty. And sexy as hell.

“Oh, God. You mean you’re in trouble for coming here? I told you this was a bad idea.”