The Heat Is On (11 page)

“Jesus, what the hell happened to you?”

Connor turned around in time to see Jimmy enter the locker room, sporting a shiner. The pitcher shrugged as he sat down, untied his sneakers, and put on his cleats.

“I walked into a door.”

Jimmy shot Connor a look, as if daring him to make any further comment. But just then Pete walked in, carrying the morning paper.

“What the hell is this crap?” The team manager threw the newspaper on the bench next to Jimmy, his eyes blazing as he demanded an answer.

The pitcher didn't have to look at the headline to know that someone in the parking lot of the bar last night had taken a picture of him brawling with one of the locals.

“He said something that pissed me off,” he said slowly, refusing to look up.

“I don't care what he said. We don't need this kind of press, especially now. After all that work we did to rebuild our image so that the public would think of us as a serious ball club, and you throw it all away, for what? What are you trying to prove?”

“Look, it happened, okay? I'm not happy about it, but there's nothing I can do about it now.” Jimmy stood up, crossing his arms in defiance.

Connor looked from him to Chase. The former was scruffy, his hair too long, and his face unshaven. Tattoos decorated his neck and arms, and there were several other scars marring his cheekbone.

Pete kept him away from the media, since he had a tendency to spout off opinions that didn't endear him to the fans. Worse, his stats were tanking, thanks to his poor performance in the last couple of games, and he just didn't seem to give a damn.

In contrast, Chase was clean-cut, his uniform spotless, his good looks evident. Hollywood, they called him, and it was true every newspaper and magazine tried to capture his photo at every opportunity.

And he was a class act. He'd married last year and wore his wedding ring with pride. He conducted his interviews professionally, always said the right thing, showed up early for workouts, and sported a 3.19 ERA.

Was Jimmy trying to stand out, trying to be as different from Chase as possible?

He and Carlos shared a look, and then Connor followed the manager into his office and closed the door.

“I don't know what the hell to do with him,” Pete admitted, hefting a coffee mug and shaking his head. “But it's the end of August, and I need strong pitching. He had it early in the season. I don't know why he seems intent on screwing up now.”

“Take him out,” Connor said. “We are going to the expanded roster next week. Bring up another guy and put him in Jimmy's spot in the rotation. Just for one game. Send him a clear message. It worked before.”

“That's a hell of a risk,” Pete said dubiously, but the wheels were turning.

“Is it?” Connor's brows lifted. “He's playing like crap right now. And the pitcher he is facing next week isn't that strong. Why don't you bring up that new kid, Jesus? He should do all right, at least for a couple of innings. Then you can bring in the bullpen.”

“It might just work.” Pete looked at him as if he were a genius.

“We've got to get him out of his head. I've seen other guys do this; they start to doubt themselves, screw up, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I think if you make him sit out a game, let him see his replacement, we can make his anger work for us.”

A hint of a smile curved on Pete's wrinkled face. “I like it. But I think it's going to take more than just shaking him up.”

“Yeah. I'll work with him. Carlos will, too, and so will Chase. Between the three of us, we should be able to whip him into shape.”

Pete grinned. “Okay, we've got a plan. Too bad I don't have one for the rest of these guys who are acting as if it's still June.”

“One step at a time. Remember, when you bench Jimmy and bring in a replacement, that sends a message to the other guys, too.”

“I sure hope so. Otherwise New York will be getting another ring. And I think they are running out of fingers.”

He arrived at Tracy's house a little early. She had surprised him by saying that her ex-husband was taking the children and they could go out.

Up until now, she hadn't said much about Jeremy, or what had gone wrong other than the fact that he had another family. Which was more than enough, he thought grimly.

It was inconceivable to him that someone could have a woman like Tracy and not appreciate his good fortune. But on the other hand, having lived most of his life with professional athletes, he'd witnessed the dark side of long-distance relationships, and knew the chances of them working out were pretty slim.

So he wasn't too surprised when he pulled up and saw a car parked in her space. He pulled into a visitor's spot, and climbed out of the Corvette just as Tracy came out of the house with the children, followed by a man.

Connor wondered if his presence would create a problem for her. But even as he hesitated, standing beside his car, Chloe spotted him and came running.

“Connor!” She threw her chubby arms around his legs, and looked up at him and grinned. “Daddy's here!”

“I see that.” He grinned down at her, gently disengaged from her embrace, and took her hand as he walked toward the house.

“Hi, Connor,” Tracy said, and he heard the awkward hitch in her voice. “This is Jeremy. Jeremy, Connor Jackson.”

Connor extended his hand, but Tracy's ex-husband gave him a cold look even as he opened the door and placed the car seat inside.

“I know who you are,” Jeremy said, lifting Chloe and putting her in the car. “I get the paper.”

“Jeremy, cut it out.” Tracy put Ethan in the backseat, and then opened the passenger door for Mason. “Connor is a friend of mine, and this is my home. There's no reason for you to be rude.”

“I think there are a lot of reasons,” Jeremy said, closing the door, his jaw tight as he faced Connor. “I don't care what you do on your own time. But I don't appreciate sleepovers when my kids are here.”

Connor felt a rush of anger toward the man standing before him. He was sorely tempted to respond in kind, but then he saw Mason watching him, worried. That stopped him.

“Jeremy!” Tracy confronted her ex, obviously outraged. “How dare you talk to Connor like that!”

“I dare plenty. These are my kids, and I have a say in how they are being raised.”

Before Tracy could say anything else, Connor stepped between them. He didn't need her to defend him; but he also didn't want to upset the kids, either.

“You are right; they are your children. But I am here to tell you that I have no intention of doing anything to upset them. So if you want to talk about this further, we can do it at a more appropriate time.”

He couldn't keep the edge from his voice, and unconsciously fisted his hand. But like most bullies, Tracy's ex seemed to take his measure, and decided to back down.

Yet he had one more trick up his sleeve. When Tracy stepped forward to put Lily in the car, Jeremy's eyes shifted from her to Connor, and he shook his head.

“I'm not taking the baby this time,” he said. “Too bad if I screw up your plans.” He got into the car and backed out of the parking lot even as Tracy's mouth fell open in surprise.

“But—” she protested as Jeremy shot her a triumphant look.

Connor responded by taking her hand. “Don't. If he doesn't want the baby, fuck him.”

“I'm so sorry,” Tracy began, turning to him. She held Lily closely, and it was then he noticed she was shaking.

“Why? I mean I get it. The guy is obviously jealous as hell, and used to thinking of you as his own.” His eyes dropped, taking in her white sundress and strappy sandals. Her legs were endless. “Can't say I blame him.”

“But he had no right to say those things, especially in front of the children.”

“That's why I shut it down.” He put his arm around her and Lily, and tipped her face up to his. “It's okay. You aren't afraid of him, are you?”

She shrugged. “He's been acting weird since he came back. I almost got the sense he was driving by the house at night.”

“I don't like the sound of that,” Connor admitted, his jaw tightening.
Creep. Maybe I should have beat the shit out of him.
But then he remembered Mason, forced himself to calm down, took a breath. “Maybe you need to call your lawyer?”

“That costs money,” she said with a sigh. “I found that out in the beginning. Every letter, every phone call, results in a bill. And Jeremy doesn't always pay support on time. Even my attorney said the best thing to do is to try to get along with him.”

“Nice,” he said, his fist tightening once more. It was the first time he had a glimpse into the life of a divorcée with little children and a deadbeat husband. It wasn't pretty.

Tracy started for the house, shaking her head. “And I'm sorry about this evening. I didn't know he would pull this stunt with the baby, otherwise I could've made arrangements. I could try to call my mom…”

“Don't worry about it.” Connor shook his head. “It's not your fault. Don't you get it? He's trying to put obstacles in the way, hoping that I'll back off. He's got a strategy. Unfortunately for him, it's my job to understand my opponent.”

She tried to give him a grateful smile when they were inside, the baby playing contentedly on a blanket on the floor. “But I guess…”

Her voice trailed off as he squatted beside her, moving a brightly colored toy closer to Lily.

“What's really the matter?” He looked up at her as the baby grabbed the toy and promptly put it in her mouth, chewing contentedly.

“It's just…It would be so much easier for you to find someone who isn't as…encumbered.” She audibly let out a breath, and when she looked at him he saw anxiety there, along with something else, something that tugged at his heart.

She would be foolish not to worry, and Tracy was no fool. He would love to tell her she had no reason to be anxious, that he was in it all the way. But he couldn't say that until he absolutely felt it, and he refused to lie to her. He wasn't sure yet he could own all this, step up to this level of responsibility.

But he could reassure her about some things.

“Let's get something straight,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her into his embrace. “I spent most of my life doing exactly what I wanted, when I wanted to. I realize some of that has to change for me to have a relationship with you and the children. But if I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be. It's that simple. Got it?”

He saw tears in her eyes as she nodded and gave him that crooked smile. “Got it.”

“Good. Now let's move on to Plan B. I'll get some takeout, pick up a nice bottle of wine. We'll have a great dinner, put the baby to bed, and enjoy some adult time. How's that sound?”

He must've said the right thing, for she visibly relaxed for the first time since he'd arrived and gave him a sexy smile. “That sounds perfect. But instead of takeout, I have a lasagna in the freezer I can heat up, and we can make a salad. How's that?”

“Better than perfect.”

He discovered it was fun working in the kitchen with Tracy, doing the simple things like chopping vegetables for the salad, setting the table, sharing the wine. It wasn't the expensive Pinot Noir he had planned to introduce to her, but the ten-dollar bottle she produced worked just as well.

And he surprised her by creating the dressing, mixing up some olive oil, lemon, mustard, salt, and pepper. And the lasagna was amazing. He saw her grin as he reached for seconds even as she refilled his glass.

“Trying to get me drunk to take advantage of me?”

“Yes. Is it working?” She batted her eyes and he laughed.

It was so good to see her back to herself, having fun, and forgetting about the encounter with her ex. She was even flirting with him, and his body responded instantly.

“I've got a news flash.” He gave her a sexy smile. “I'm not easy, but I can be had.”

He saw her eyes soften with desire, and it took every ounce of restraint not to reach across the table, yank her into his arms, and take her there, amid the remains of dinner and the flickering candle. But he heard the baby cooing and knew she had to feed her and get her settled.

He could wait, and in some ways, the anticipation was making him even hotter. He watched her fluid movements as she cleared the table, stacking the dishes as he helped her with the leftover lasagna. He couldn't help but touch her as she made her way to the sink, and he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her up against him where he was hot and hard for her.

She gasped, and then swallowed hard. “Lily…”

“I know,” he said, brushing her lips with his, gratified to feel her tremble. “I just wanted to give you a sneak preview.” His thumb teased her nipple through the thin sweater she wore, and then his hands slid to her waist.

“And when you're done with the baby,” he said, his voice thick with meaning, “it's our time. And I plan to make the most of every moment.”

Tracy put the baby down, her heart pounding. Even as she kissed Lily's fragrant head, her body trembled with anticipation.

Connor was waiting for her downstairs, waiting to make love to her. She replayed his delicious threat in her mind, knowing it was part of his seduction. He wanted her to think about sex, think about him.

Damn if it wasn't working.

Turning off the light, she heard the baby playing with her bunny rabbit, her nightly ritual. Things tonight were going well; the witching hour was over. Now she could have some time alone with her lover.

She had a lover!

It seemed utterly impossible, given her situation, but when she came downstairs and found Connor in the kitchen, stripped of his shirt, the lighted candle on the table and the wine beside it, her mouth went dry.

“Come here,” he ordered, and she padded quickly across the floor, closing the distance between them. Her heart was racing as he lifted her chin, his eyes burning into hers. “Do you know how much I want you?”

Desire exploded within her even as he took her in his arms, his mouth possessing her. He was every inch tall, dark, and muscular, his body warm as he pulled her up against him. His scent filled her nostrils, a smell she remembered from college, and it made her even more intoxicated. Then his hands were in her hair, loosening it until it fell around her shoulders.

“You are so beautiful, especially like this. I can't wait to be inside you, to pound you hard until both of us can't take it.”

His voice was a husky whisper, cognizant that there was a baby upstairs. She had a moment of awareness that he had cleared away the dishes, cleaned everything up, but he began undressing her and she couldn't think at all.

The sundress came off in one fluid movement, dropping into a white puddle on the floor. She was wearing nothing but a pink lace bra and panties, along with a simple gold heart-shaped necklace he had given her so many years ago after their first kiss, and she saw his eyes take in every inch of her even as he rolled a lock of her hair between his thumb and finger.

The gaze was so intense it was as if he had touched her. Tracy sucked in her breath as he fingered her bra strap, the anticipation killing her. She was beginning to get an idea of the delicious torture he had planned for her, and she had to lean against the table for support. His hands slid slightly down her breasts, cupping beneath them even as his thumbs brushed the rock-hard nipples.

“Shh,” he said as she gasped in pleasure. “Don't want to wake up that baby.”

Tracy nodded even as he brought the glass of wine to her lips. The heat in his eyes made her tremble as she took a sip, letting the crisp white wine fill her mouth. Then he kissed her again before she could swallow, and she could feel his tongue hot, the wine cold, the fire pooling between her legs.

He put the glass aside, wedging her knees apart, pulling her up against him so she could feel his erection, hard and throbbing against her moist heat. He cupped her bottom, positioning her so that she couldn't move with the table behind her and him in front.

“I like this,” he whispered, taking her hands and placing them on either side of the table. His hands closed over hers. “Stay just like that.”

Tracy's eyes were closed, reveling in the delicious sensations coursing through her. She inhaled sharply as his tongue licked her through the sheer lace fabric of her bra. Her hips arched instinctively, and she was rewarded by the rough feel of his cock between her legs.

“Please,” she was begging, aching for him. Nothing mattered now but that she had him inside her.

“Not yet.”

Her hands tightened on the edge of the table as he slipped off her panties. “You are so hot and wet. You don't know what you do to me when I see you like this.”

She groaned as his hand took the place of his zipper, cupping her first, and then teasing her, circling her clitoris until she was panting, opening, pressing against him, frantic for release. She tried to touch him but he put her hand firmly back on the table, holding her helplessly in place.

She shattered as she came, biting her lip to keep from crying out. Convulsing against him, she was grateful as his mouth took hers in a heated kiss, ensuring her silence. Then his fingers were inside her, giving her, as he called it earlier, a sneak preview of what was to come.

Her knees were like jelly, and he edged her back onto the table so she was sitting on top. Through a hot haze, she saw him shuck his pants, then he was once more between her legs.

This time he removed her bra, and she whimpered as he kissed the gold necklace at her throat, then his lips moved lower, flicking her breasts, and to her disbelief desire ignited inside her once more.

“My God, you are so sexy. I can't wait,” he whispered, his breathing ragged.

“Don't,” she pleaded, dimly aware of what it was costing him to hold back.

His eyes burned at her words, and then he flipped her roughly, so that she was bent over the table. The polished wood felt cool against her heated flesh and she felt his thighs, spreading her apart even as his hand stroked her from behind.

There was something incredibly hot about the position, she discovered, even as he thrust inside her, filling her, and pounding her as she arched helplessly beneath him. There was nothing gentle about it, but it was exquisitely raw and exciting. Her body exploded, shattering once more even as she heard his hushed groan as he arched his back and came hard, holding onto her waist as he drove into her throbbing pussy.

Time seemed to stand still as wave after wave of emotion engulfed her. This man, this beautiful baseball player who could have any girl he wanted, was in her kitchen making incredible love to her.

Back off. Before it gets deeper. Before you get hurt.

But now he was turning her, taking her in his arms, and reaching for her dress.

“We got lucky, but I don't want to tempt fate. All is still quiet.”

He slipped on her dress, giving her back some armor, and then pulled on his own trousers. As he returned to her, helping her with the zipper, he tipped her head up to his and looked into her eyes.

“I'd better get going. We have a game tomorrow. You okay?”

“Yes,” she lied. She couldn't tell him her fears, her uncertainties, her desires. There had been enough thrust upon him within just a few short weeks.

Instead she smoothed his collar. “Call me after the game?” she asked as he finished kissing her good night.

“You bet.”

She leaned against the door after he left, feeling like a starstruck teenager. Maybe she was being neurotic, worrying too much. Maybe it would all just work out?

He had been honest with her, she knew that. And while a part of her wished he would've said yes, I'm all in, that wasn't realistic.

Especially for a handsome baseball star who was used to a very different life.

But she had to give him credit, she thought as she climbed the stairs. He was making a real effort, not only with her but with the children. And Jeremy was a complication she hadn't foreseen.

But Connor seemed to take it all in stride. And he'd made it perfectly clear that if he didn't want to be here, he wouldn't be.

And he was.

So maybe it was time for her to just let it go. Could she do that? Could she be with him, date him, enjoy him without thinking about tomorrow? What about the kids? Mason was already having problems. Were the others far behind?

And then there was the sex…

She couldn't stop thinking about that.
It was hot
. And while the physical part of her marriage had been nice, pleasant, it was nothing like this.

Nothing like that pulse pounding, body sweating, wet and throbbing, I've-got-to-have-you-now kind of sex
.

Could she walk away from all that? Would she leave the most exciting man that had ever been in her life because she was afraid?

Tracy sucked in a breath, feeling like the air was suddenly thick. She had to try. She would regret it the rest of her life if she didn't. And if being married once before had taught her nothing else, she now knew that a ring on her finger and marriage certificate didn't guarantee anything.

What she had with Connor felt real, and solid. She would just have to trust that he would find what he needed to step up, and maybe take on more than he had planned.

With another guy, she would've thought she didn't stand a chance. But Connor Jackson had more character than any man she'd ever met.

And that was something she could hold onto.

Jimmy was utterly furious. Connor could see him sitting at the edge of the bench the next day, his face red, watching as a young Hispanic kid just brought up from the minors took his place on the mound.

“What the fuck is Pete thinking?” he said, his eyes blazing as he gestured to his chest. “
I
should be out there. I am a Major League pitcher. Who the hell is that?”

Connor shrugged, exchanging a glance with Chase as he picked up his catcher's mitt. “Pete's determined that the Sonics go all the way. So now he has an expanded roster and can make some changes. The guys that are playing well, showing up for practice, doing what they should, have nothing to worry about.”

“So you're saying that's not me.” It was a statement more than a question.

It didn't escape Connor's notice that a couple of the other guys who were not performing were listening closely. Part of him wanted to walk away and remind Pete that this wasn't his mess or his problem.

But he wanted that ring, and this would be his last chance. This team could make it, he knew it. They had the raw talent, and had gotten there before. But he was beginning to see that Pete was right. Without his leadership, they wouldn't make it this time. These guys needed a kick in the ass, and no one else was stepping up.

“I think Pete is exploring his options, which is what he should do,” Connor said meaningfully. “We have to make the playoffs, we have to get some momentum going now. Everybody has to show up determined to fight, with their heart and their mind fully focused on the game. And like it or not, no one is irreplaceable if they can't do that.”

He turned and walked slowly to home plate, leaving the pitcher speechless behind him. The other party animals were also strangely silent.

Jimmy turned to Chase, looking for backing. “Do you believe this crap?”

“Yeah, I do. And I agree. Wake the fuck up.” He brushed past Jimmy and went to the water cooler without looking back.

And even Jake, who was the prankster of the group and normally friendly and easygoing, avoided his eyes.

Any remaining bravado left when Jesus, eager to show the team what he had, struck out all hitters in the first inning one, two, three. He took his cues from Connor, let him call the game, and succeeded dramatically. As he strode off the mound, triumphant, he made the sign of the cross and looked up to the heavens while Jimmy and his buddies studied their shoes.

“That boy throws real good,” Pete said to Connor, obviously impressed. His eyes traveled over the players on the bench. “Real good. Did you see that curveball go right from twelve to six? Damn.” He made a show of clapping Jesus on the back and shaking his hand.

Connor suppressed a grin. Pete was playing it well. And they both knew realistically Jesus was not ready for the majors. But he'd gotten to Jimmy, and that's what mattered.

Thankfully Jesus was able to get through a couple more innings before the opposing team started to figure him out. But it was enough. When the game was over and the Sonics had managed to squeak out a win, Jimmy approached Connor in the locker room.

“Hey, Con Man,” he said awkwardly. When Connor looked up, he shrugged, scuffing his shoe like an embarrassed little boy. “Look, I've been thinking. I know I've been screwing up. You offered to help me before. Wonder if that offer's still good?”

“That depends.” Connor's eyes met the pitcher's as Jimmy squirmed.

“On what?”

“On you. If you are serious, let's meet up early tomorrow and practice. But I'm not wasting my time again, only to have you blow it. You fuck up one more time, I'm done.”

And he meant it. He felt like he had just taken a brat kid to the woodshed. The irony wasn't lost on him.

Jimmy looked abashed. “Okay. I got it.”

His eyes met Connor's and he thrust out his hand. Connor shook it, and as he slung his jersey over his shoulder, preparing to go, Jimmy stopped him.

“Thanks, man.”

Connor shrugged. “No problem. But I meant what I said. This is your last chance. Step up or get out.”