Worth the Trade. Kristina Mathews

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СКАЧАТЬ big dance, someone was to blame. Players were shuffled. Free-agents signed. Salaries taken on and dumped. All in the hopes of a share of the postseason pool.

      Marco had been called up, sent down, brought back up, and traded three times in the last six years. In the process, he’d become somewhat of a streaky player. One who could turbocharge the lineup for weeks at a time. Then he’d hit a plateau. His average would dip. Run production taper off. And the pressure would get to him. He tried not to listen to the talk shows or read the blogs. But he knew what they were saying about him. Knew it was only a matter of time before someone else started looking better.

      He needed to make sure that for the last two months of this season, the grass was greenest in left field beneath his feet.

      * * * *

      Marco went about his usual pregame routine. He’d eaten two bananas, a peanut butter and honey sandwich on whole-wheat, and washed it down with a quart of chocolate milk. He filled his back pocket with sunflower seeds and put on his new jersey—number 9. After donning his new cap, and picking up his trusty glove, he headed out to the field.

      Standing on the sidelines, hat over his heart, he took in the sights and sounds of the ballpark as the national anthem rang out over the loudspeakers. He closed his eyes, letting the words and the music fill him. He knew how fortunate he was to be standing here instead of on the street outside the stadium. He could easily be the guy cleaning up after the game, instead of the guy hitting cleanup.

      When the song ended, he happened to glance into the stands. Hunter Collins sat behind home plate. She caught his eye, held his gaze for a moment, and then tried to busy herself with the scorebook on her lap. But she dropped it. He was close enough to notice a blush creep across her cheeks.

      He’d gotten under her skin. And she was now in his head. He just hoped he could get her out of it before he came up to the plate.

      The top of the first inning went quickly, with the first three batters striking out. In a way, Marco was glad nothing came to him in left field. But the longer he went without making a play, the more nervous he got about making a good impression. On the team, the fans. And of course, on Hunter Collins.

      The Goliaths leadoff man got a base hit. He stole second and avoided a double play when the next batter grounded out. Shortstop Bryce Baxter stroked a double down the left field line, scoring a run. Could be a rally. It was up to Marco to keep it going.

      Too bad he struck out on three pitches.

      He shook his head, feeling the shame of letting her down. No it wasn’t just Hunter, he’d let the whole team down. Not to mention the forty thousand fans in the stands and the countless others catching the game on Bay Area Sports Net or listening to it on the radio.

      Shake it off. It was only the top of the second and they had a one run lead. Marco grabbed his glove and took his place on the field. With a runner on second and one out, the next batter hit a deep fly ball, heading for the gap in left-center field. No way was he going to let it get away from him. He dove, snagging the ball inches from the grass. The crowd roared and he felt a little better about his blunder at the plate.

      He finished the night hitless, with two strikeouts, a pop fly, and finally, grounding into an inning-ending double play. Way to make a good impression.

      At least it hadn’t come with a loss. Johnny Scottsdale had pitched a gem and Baxter hit two home runs and an RBI double to clinch the win and draw media attention away from him.

      Marco had done part of his job. He made some good plays in the field. He hadn’t committed any errors and he’d saved what could have been a run-scoring double. The night hadn’t been a total loss. But it hadn’t been anywhere near what he wanted to accomplish in his first game as a Goliath.

       Chapter 2

      He’d gone zero for thirteen. Hunter couldn’t believe Marco Santiago was hitless after three games. Was he doing it on purpose? To let her know he really didn’t want to be here?

      No. Of course not. He was a professional. He might not have been enthusiastic about the trade, but surely he wouldn’t sabotage his career because of it.

      Still. She felt like there was something personal about his performance. Like she was somehow responsible for his lack of focus at the plate. Because he looked like a man who had something other than baseball on his mind every time he stepped into the batter’s box.

      He’d look over at her. His damn blue eyes boring into her, then he’d shake his head and dig in. He was distracted. Frustrated. And since he was her first official player acquisition, she took his struggles at the plate personally.

      Hunter wasn’t too surprised to find him in the batting cages before the game the next afternoon. He was doing the right thing. Trying to work his way out of his slump. She had to give him credit for that. She watched him take cut after cut. His swing looked good. No major flaws in his mechanics. It didn’t appear to be a physical problem. So it had to be at least half mental.

      Hunter settled in to watch his extra batting practice. He was starting to look a lot more comfortable as the session went on. She relaxed a bit, enjoying the simple pleasure of watching a talented athlete hone his craft. He really did have a beautiful swing.

      Until he caught her watching him. He shook his head and completely missed the next pitch. He fouled off a few more balls, and it became clear that he was rattled. No more clean contact. No more smooth, easy swing. No more poetry in motion. She was in his head.

      She should go. Her presence was only making things worse. For his game and for the sexual tension that surrounded them like fog whenever they were near each other. But she couldn’t quite make her feet move. Couldn’t quite tear her gaze away from the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed as he swung the bat. The way the thrust of his hips added power to his swing. Not to mention the way his ass looked in those almost-tight white pants.

      As if he knew her observation wasn’t entirely professional, he set the bat down, grabbed a towel, and approached her with a scowl on his face. A frustrated, yet incredibly sexy scowl.

      “What are you doing down here?” His blue eyes blazed with annoyance. And desire. “I’m trying to work.”

      “I thought I’d take a look and see if we can figure out how to get you back on track.” She tried to keep her voice as professional as possible. To not betray the fact that a few minutes ago, she was simply admiring the view. “There’s a reason I traded for you and I think if we work together, we can get this team to the postseason.”

      “Oh yeah? And what can you do, besides distract me, to get me hitting again?” He gripped the towel around his neck.

      “I distract you?” Her heart tripped, stumbling over his intense stare. “How do I distract you?”

      “I think you know the answer to that.” He stepped closer, making the space seem entirely too small. They were in a large, underground facility, with room for batting cages, pitching mounds, and weight rooms. Yet she felt like she was trapped in an elevator whenever she was near this man.

      “Is it because I’m a woman?” Her hackles rose. When she was little, her gender hadn’t mattered. She was Henry Collins’ kid. Always at his side. She was as much a fixture at the ballpark as the left field bleachers. It wasn’t until she got older that she realized she was the only girl in the clubhouse.

      “Yes. СКАЧАТЬ