Love Bats Last (The Heart of the Game) (15 page)

The party for the Center was held in one of the National Park buildings in the headlands, just down the hill from the Center. Alex pulled into the parking lot and circled the car to open the door for Sabrina.

“I’ll thank you to stop chasing off my boyfriends,” she said, continuing their discussion as she eased out.

Her tone was teasing, but the look in her eyes said she still hadn’t forgiven him.

Sabrina had visited him in New York. She’d come out to a game with Grayson Benning, a rich East Coast entrepreneur. Alex didn’t like him, didn’t trust him. Never had. He and Benning had gone to prep school together. He was one of those men who couldn’t look you in the eye. And while maybe no one would be good enough for Sabrina, Alex still didn’t like him. Alex had a nose for shams and for people who hid behind slick façades. Benning’s façade was one of the slickest. Highly slimy, as a matter of fact.

“The guy is a snake,” Alex said.

“I like snakes.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Stick to wine and baseball. Romance is not your strong suit,” she said as she smoothed her dress. “I’m headed to the ladies room. Too much green tea.”

He walked into the low-ceilinged building. The striking photos of seals, whales and otters placed on easels around the room and the cheery lights strung around the ceiling gave a lighthearted feel to the converted barracks. A TV hung next to the bar, and Alex was relieved to see the game of the week was on. He ordered a beer and sipped it as he watched the Yankees’ veteran left-hander throw a perfect fastball. The rookie facing him had no time to react.

“Glued to the game, I see.”

“Busted,” Alex said as he turned to Jackie. “He’s the next pitcher I’ll face,” he added as half apology, half explanation.

She slid into the seat next to him. The dress she wore didn’t fit well, he noticed, but it didn’t matter—nothing could hide the sleek, athletic curves of her body. Just looking at her made his blood rush.

“Well, then,” she said, fidgeting with the dress, “I imagine our speeches and whatnot stand no chance.” She tugged at a pleat that ran down the front of her dress. Then she leaned out of her seat to snag a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “Gage tells me you’re headed for a title.”

“Long way to go,” Alex said. A warm feeling spread through him at knowing she’d noticed.

“I wasn’t very gracious after you helped me in Santa Cruz,” she said with a toss of her head. “I’m not very good at accepting help.”

“Something we have in common.”

“At least
I
can blame it on shock,” she said with a smile. The woman had a dazzling smile; it dawned across her face and lit her. She took a long pull on her champagne and then waved the glass in front of her. “He’s here somewhere.” She must’ve read the puzzlement in Alex’s face. “Gage, I mean. He’s dying to talk about your base run.”

“Home run.”

Color crept into her face. As she pressed her lips together, he regretted correcting her. The game took on a whole new cadence when described with her lilting English accent and funny phrases. He rather liked it.

“I’m better with mammals that swim,” she said, looking down at her shoes.

He followed her gaze. She wore leather sandals with sensible soles. Sabrina would call them clunky.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Jackie, I reacted badly; I’m sorry. My youngest sister drowned. I... I sometimes forget she
was
young, that others know how to handle themselves in the water.” He didn’t often talk about Grace, but he wanted Jackie to know.

She straightened, a stricken look on her face. “Alex, I’m so sorry.” She grasped his hand.

“It was a long time ago, but some circumstances bring it back quite vividly.”

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand. “Sorry my actions brought up bad memories.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “I think we’ve apologized enough. Surely there’s another topic that can have us butting heads.”

She started to smile, but her attention was pulled by someone behind him, and her body stiffened.

Perhaps no one else would’ve noticed, but Alex did. Her reaction was like the twitch of a pitcher when he knew you had his number, when he considered himself defeated in the at-bat even before he threw the first pitch.

He turned to follow her gaze.

Sabrina glided toward them in her sparkly stilettos and posh designer dress.

“You must be the amazing Dr. Brandon,” she said, extending her hand with a warm smile. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you.” She held Jackie’s hand in hers. “I admire what you do here, always have.”

“Thank you,” Jackie responded coolly with a wavering smile.

“This is my
sister
, Sabrina,” Alex said. “Considering the amount of time she spends at parties, introductions should be her strong suit, but aren’t.”

Sabrina poked him in the ribs. “Back down, Alex, or I’ll ask to have you thrown into one of those pens I saw up on the opposite hill.”

“He knows his way out, I’m afraid,” Jackie said, her smile genuine this time. “And please call me Jackie.”

Alex hauled in a long breath.

Jackie caught the eye of a waiter and accepted a second glass of champagne.

“Good thing Feronne Vineyards gave us this,” she said with a nod to her glass, “or we’d be drinking Three Buck Chuck.”

She knocked the champagne back in three deep swallows. Evidently he wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

“The company that makes those wines buys grapes from all over,” he said, swallowing down the telltale heat firing in him. “Sometimes you get lucky.”

“I’ve never been a fan of luck,” Jackie said. “I prefer to be prepared and make my own way.”

She ran her fingers along the collar of her dress, fingering it near her throat. His eyes traced the graceful curve of her neck and roved down to where creamy skin showed in the vee just below it.

“Something else we have in common,” he said, determinedly stopping himself from delving further into the fantasies she conjured in him. “Luck doesn’t go very far in baseball.”

Sabrina cleared her throat and when he raised a brow, she glanced from Jackie to him and grinned. A very calculating, sisterly grin.

“I’m going to look at the exhibits,” she said, waving toward an educational display set up at the back of the room. “Wonderful to meet you, Jackie.”

A high-pitched squeal from the PA system pierced through the room.

“Speech time,” Jackie said. “You’ll have to forgive us. Our board chair tends to go on and on. If it gets too bad, I’ll yank the cord.”

Alex settled in where he could see both the game and the podium on the stage. But what caught his attention were two men in very expensive-looking suits with their backs to him. One turned, surveyed the room with a narrow gaze and then walked out the side door. The other sidled up to Jackie. He whispered something to her, and Alex watched her respond with a shallow smile.

Alex forgot about the game and the speeches as he watched the man move even closer to Jackie. She backed away a step and turned her attention to the man droning on at the microphone.

When the board chairman finally ended his speech, Jackie stepped up onto the small stage and adjusted the height of the mike.

Alex split his attention between Jackie and the man watching her. For decades he’d trained himself to observe the nuances of movement, spent hours studying videos of the pitchers he’d faced or was about to. He’d committed to memory every twitch, every tic, every pause. Sometimes he was sure he knew which pitch they were going to throw before they did. He studied the man, tracking the patterns of his movements.

Something about the guy didn’t fit. Something in his movements didn’t match his smooth facial expressions and practiced smiles. The big guy who’d gone out the door looked out of place as well.

He heard Jackie thank everyone for coming, and he snapped his attention back to her. She stepped down from the stage, acknowledging the applause with a smile.

The man stepped over to Jackie and reached to shake her hand. Even at a distance, Alex could see her discomfort as her smile faded and she tugged her hand away.

The Center’s chairman bounded over to her, said something, and the two of them headed toward Alex.

“Michael Albright,” the man said as he stepped up to Alex and offered his hand. “I saw your grand slam last month. Impressive.”

Alex didn’t tell him that it had been a particularly easy hit. Sometimes it happened that way, but it was too complicated to explain.

“Jackie might have told you,” Michael went on, “about the discovery she’s made regarding the unusual strandings in the North Bay.”

She hadn’t, but Alex suspected that Albright was about to pitch him. Alex was never adept at fielding these sorts of pitches, but he was interested in Jackie’s work and what she needed to do it. And though he’d intended to quit volunteering the day Jackie had gone through the floor of the necropsy lab, he’d found he couldn’t muster an outright
no
, hadn’t really wanted to. He suspected that Michael was about to make his future choices that much harder.

Alex shook his head in response to Albright just as the man he’d been observing earlier inserted himself into their circle.

“Dr. Brandon takes too little credit for her discoveries,” the man said, as if he had a right to answer for Jackie. He stepped to her side and gave her a look that made Alex want to punch him.

“Mark Volkov,” Albright said by way of introduction. “I was just about to tell Mr. Tavonesi here about Jackie’s excellent sleuthing.” He motioned to Alex. “Alex is one of our newest volunteers,” he added with a smug smile.

“Good to meet you,” Volkov said, nodding cordially.

A nerve in Alex’s jaw twitched as he shook Volkov's outstretched hand and met his placid gaze. He felt the color rise in his face; the man was evidently more of an expert at controlling his expressions than Alex was.

Albright turned back to Jackie. “Our Dr. Brandon could do a damn sight more if she had a better lab,” he said in a baldly promotional tone. “But what she’s managed to discover with such limited resources is groundbreaking.”

Jackie flinched, almost imperceptibly, but Alex saw it.

“The Center will be in the news when her findings are published,” Albright droned on, oblivious to Jackie’s discomfort. “She’s been gathering data near the mouth of the Susul River and discovered radioactive contamination, possibly coming in with fertilizers. We know it can be traced. We have to send things up to UC Davis, takes more time, but if we had a good lab here, we could—”

“Michael often makes too much of my initial findings,” Jackie said, cutting him off.

“They do sound intriguing,” Volkov said.

“We need more data,” she said sharply. “It’s much too early to speculate about such a thing.”

Alex saw from her stance that she was hiding something. But it was her work and she had a right to do it as she pleased. Volkov, on the other hand, looked mighty interested, but with the way his eyes flicked over Jackie, Alex doubted it was her discoveries that inspired his attention.

“I need to check on the education team,” she said, taking a step back. She crossed the room to a group of volunteers gathered near a table of hors d’oeuvres. Alex turned back to Albright and Volkov when an elderly woman excused herself to them, linked arms with Albright and drew him away, pelting him with questions all the while.

Volkov stayed put.

Alex ordered another beer and passively watched the game while he considered how to get a few moments alone with Jackie.

“I read that your Cabernet won the gold at the Decanter World Wine Competition last year,” Volkov said as he eased into the seat next to Alex. A look of raw rivalry flashed in his eyes. It made no sense, but Alex knew the look. There’d been rowdies in the minor leagues, in bars and parking lots, men who hadn’t made much of themselves and just wanted a shot at plastering someone who was working at getting ahead. He’d learned early to avoid those sorts of places and those men.

“Yup,” Alex said. He sipped his beer.

Discussing wine was another of those mistakes he’d learned to avoid. He didn’t have the patience for discussing it tonight. He glanced at Volkov. The man was clearly successful. Yet success didn’t always fill the gaps in a man’s life. Alex was beginning to get a taste of that himself.

“We have mutual interests,” Volkov said, filling the silence. He nodded to where Jackie stood with the volunteers. “Dr. Brandon, for example. Seems you know her pretty well.”

“Not really,” Alex said flatly. It was true.

“I bet she takes
particular
interest in some of her volunteers,” he said.

There was no mistaking the man’s goading challenge.

“I wouldn’t know,” Alex said, turning his body fully toward the TV screen and biting back his urge to deck the guy.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Volkov told the bartender. He swiveled to face Alex full on. “Well, then, that clears the way, doesn’t it?” He stared across the room at Jackie. “She does have a great ass.”

“If you value your face,” Alex said in a low, measured tone, “you’ll leave Dr. Brandon’s work and person alone.”

A slow smile spread across Volkov's face as he raised his beer and took a long draw from it.

It was all Alex could do to spin around and walk away.

He headed to where Sabrina stood peering at the exhibits and questioning a couple of the crew supervisors. Her smile froze when she saw Alex. She said a couple of quick goodbyes and joined him.

“Pumpkin time,” she said as they walked toward the door. “I know that sign.”

He nodded. “Early game tomorrow.”

“I’m thinking of volunteering,” she said, waving her hand around the room. “I love all this.”

“You’ll have them all in designer slickers by the end of the month,” he said, but the hint of humor in his voice didn’t cover his anger.

Sabrina shot him a questioning glance.

“Exit strategy,” he said.

Jackie intercepted them as they reached the door.

“Great,” she said as she fisted her hands on her hips. “Just great. We’ve been courting that guy, Volkov, for months and you’ve managed to piss him off in a matter of minutes. A
million
dollars, Tavonesi. You may have just blown a million dollars.” She glanced at Sabrina. “Sorry, not you. I’m rather sure pissing off major donors is not a
genetic
trait.”