Worth the Trade. Kristina Mathews

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СКАЧАТЬ known about hitting a baseball. It couldn’t come at a worse time, either. Not when his contract was up at the end of the year.

      This was supposed to be his chance to sign the big deal. He hoped it would be here, in San Francisco. In the short time he’d been in the Goliaths clubhouse, he’d noticed the guys had something special. A camaraderie that he hadn’t found anywhere else. Instead of a collection of players, all doing their own thing, they were a TEAM. They backed each other up. And not just when the spotlight was on them. It was like they were more than teammates. More than friends, even. It was like they were a family.

      But he was still the outsider. The new guy who wasn’t quite cutting it. Wasn’t pulling his weight. And that was one more reason he needed to stay as far away as possible from Hunter. He didn’t need to sleep his way onto the roster. That wouldn’t do either of them any good.

      He needed to forget about her. Starting now. He’d board the plane for Atlanta, and when he returned, he wouldn’t be bothered by her presence behind home plate. Wouldn’t even think about unbuttoning her stuffy shirts or unpinning her uptight hairdo. He wouldn’t wonder if she was as soft underneath as she pretended to be hard on the outside.

      And he damn sure wouldn’t worry about her partner, married or not, sliding up next to her in the luxury suite, laughing at what a mistake she’d made in bringing Marco Santiago to San Francisco.

      No. He couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let him put her down. Couldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying I told you so.

      Marco would just have to work harder. Smarter. And better than anyone else on the team.

      * * * *

      Six days later, Marco was the last one to board the plane back to San Francisco. He’d improved his batting average, gotten his first extra-base hit, and two more RBIs. But he still wasn’t in his groove. Most of those hits were just plain lucky. Weak ground balls that squirted through the infield. Bloopers that fell just short of the outfielders. He wasn’t making real good contact, and he had far too many strikeouts.

      His concentration was still shot.

      It helped a little that Hunter wasn’t sitting behind home plate. But she was sitting there in his head. Tormenting him. Tempting him. Torturing him.

      He’d never let a woman come between him and his game. Not in high school, college, or the minor leagues. Especially not when he’d made it to the majors. He’d always kept his personal life separate. Any time a woman even got close to coming between him and baseball, it was always easier to let her go than try to juggle her needs with the needs of his team.

      Ever since he stepped into that limo with Hunter, he couldn’t get her out of his system. Must be pheromones or something. How else could he explain an intense sexual attraction to a woman who was not only his boss, but was sending seriously non-sexual signals?

      The way she dressed, for example. He couldn’t think of one thing he liked about her wardrobe. She dressed like she was going for a job interview at a funeral home in a black-and-white movie. He’d only seen her in black and gray. Conservative. Boring. Like she was trying to hide something. Her femininity. Her passion. But he saw right through her. Or rather, he felt something, an underlying sensuality that she couldn’t quite keep hidden. Not from him.

      And he wanted to uncover that sensuality in the worst way.

      But despite their mutual attraction, she’d made it very clear she wasn’t interested in him.

      Time to let it go. To take the advice of the master of control. The man. The myth. The Monk.

      “Hey Johnny, I’ll bet you’re looking forward to getting home.” Marco sat down with an empty seat between him and his teammate.

      “Yeah. It wasn’t a bad road trip.” They’d won four out of six games in Atlanta and Milwaukee. “But I’m definitely ready to sleep in my own bed.”

      “For me, one hotel is the same as the next.” He wasn’t complaining, just stating a fact.

      “You’re still at the hotel?” Johnny shook his head. “Man, you need a place of your own.”

      “I haven’t had time to look.” He was too busy trying to get Hunter out of his head. Trying to get his swing back. “Besides, at this point I don’t even know how long I’m going to be here. Kind of hard to find a decent place willing to rent for only two or three months.”

      “You could sublet my apartment,” Johnny offered. “It’s right across the street from the ballpark. Now that Alice is over her morning sickness, we never stay over. It’s just sitting there. Vacant. It would be perfect for you, if you’re interested.”

      “That might help me feel a little more settled.” Anything was better than staring up at the ceiling in his hotel room that was so like any other hotel room in any other city. A bed. A shower. A minibar. He hadn’t even bothered to unpack his suitcase. He’d given up a long time ago trying to ever make himself at home.

      “Why don’t you come by tomorrow morning and take a look. If you want it, it’s yours. Through October. This team has come too far to go home at the end of September.”

      “Sounds like a good deal.” Marco leaned back in the seat. Having a place to live was only part of his problem.

      “Anything else I can do to help you settle in?” Johnny asked. The man must have noticed Marco’s lack of concentration.

      Marco leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “So how do you keep your head clear? Your concentration is legendary.”

      “Well, to tell the truth, a lot of it was not having anything else to think about. I didn’t have anything else to care about.”

      No woman getting under his skin.

      “Well, you’ve got a lot now. A new wife, a teenager, and a baby on the way.” Marco was surprised by the little stab of envy. “You still manage to keep your head in the game.”

      “Now I’ve got even more reason to keep my focus.” Johnny’s face lit up with the mention of his family.

      Again, Marco felt like he was missing out on something. Not that he was looking to get married any time soon. But he thought he’d want a wife. A couple of kids. Someday. When he had a long term contract. When he could offer security. Stability.

      He knew he wouldn’t want to uproot a family every couple of years. He’d done enough of that growing up. He’d always hated being the new kid. Having the teacher assume he didn’t speak English because he was one of those migrant worker’s kids. Sometimes they wouldn’t even bother to check his birth certificate to see that he was, in fact, here legally. He was born in Texas, just like two former presidents.

      “I need to find my focus,” Marco stretched his legs out in front of him. “Otherwise, I won’t need to bother unpacking my bags. My contract is up at the end of the year. Then I’m a free agent.”

      “So you want to make sure you finish strong.” Johnny knew the game. The whole game, both on and off the field.

      “I want to help the team finish strong.” What he really wanted was a long-term contract. “The postseason bonus would be nice, too.”

      “Not СКАЧАТЬ