Bride on the Run Page 8

  Just trying to keep her talking? To ensure the night didn’t end yet?

  Or maybe he just liked the flushed color in her cheeks.

  “I didn’t mean it that way, as you damn well know.” She fiddled with her necklace, running her finger beneath the heavy stones to lift them off her skin.

  For a long moment, he said nothing. He watched her.

  Wanted her.

  “Would you like me to unfasten that?” he asked finally.

  “Excuse me?” She stilled.

  “The necklace. I can unclasp it for you.” He’d put the thing on her after all. It had enough hooks and catches on it that a thief would have to steal the whole woman if he wanted the gems.

  “Oh.” More hectic color in her cheeks. She turned around quickly. “Thank you.”

  Reaching up, she lifted her hair and brought it in front of her shoulder, baring the back of her neck.

  He focused on unwinding the hooks without any gratuitous touching, but he hadn’t steeled himself for the scent of her fragrance at close range, or the discovery that she had the palest freckles dotting the tops of her shoulders.

  “I’ll call my father and figure out where to go next in the morning.” Her words jolted him. He slipped off the necklace, pocketing it, before she turned to face him.

  “You just arrived.” His gaze dipped to her mouth as he recalled the startling chemistry of the kiss they’d shared. “You can’t leave already.”

  “I only came here at your request. To be your plus one at the black tie event and to clear up what happened on my show the day Annamae phoned me. I’ve done both those things, so I’ll pack my things and get out of your hair tomorrow.” She spoke evenly, as if the plan she’d just announced didn’t rock her one bit.

  Whereas it knocked him for a loop.

  “No.” He gestured to the half open door to her rooms. “May I?”

  He needed to sit for this. Or have a Scotch. Maybe both.

  She hesitated for the barest fraction. “Sure.” With a nod, she pushed open the door and waved him in. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t have much time to choose a dress.”

  Dresses spilled out of the bedroom and into the living area, swathes of pink silk, black lace, and creamy white taffeta strewn over chairs, sofas, and ottomans. Shoe boxes piled in a corner, tissue paper edging out from the lids where she’d tried on various pairs. If he’d wanted to take a seat, he was out of luck since most of the surfaces were covered.

  “I don’t want you to leave. Yet.” He ground his teeth together, knowing that came out awkwardly. “It’s my fault that I exposed your identity after you’d remained safely anonymous for a whole year. Let me keep you safe for at least another week to give you some time to regroup.”

  She was already shaking her head. “I don’t want to expose you to any more risk.”

  “We’ve covered this. I’m safe. Team security combined with private guards will keep you safe. I need to do this, Valerie. If something happened to you after I revealed your whereabouts…” He shook his head to get that image out of his head. “I won’t let that happen.”

  “I also don’t feel right about exposing you to more gossip,” she bit her lip, a rare moment of hesitation for a woman who seemed sure of herself on so many levels. “Especially after the debacle with Annamae—”

  “I don’t care.” He couldn’t resist touching her any longer. Even knowing that the chemistry might boil up and blast him, he didn’t like the idea of her worrying about that. “I knew the spotlight would be intense when I got into the major leagues. If we ignore what people are saying, it’s not going to hurt us.”

  “I’m used to it.” Her eyes flipped up to his, round with worry. “I’ve had the shadow of my family following me my whole life. But you’ve got a career where you’re a role model—”

  He kissed her.

  Not the most creative way to end an argument maybe, but he didn’t want to argue about role models and her leaving. He simply wanted to taste her again.

  Fitting his mouth to hers was as simple as breathing. They fit together with a rightness he’d never felt before. And it wasn’t just him feeling it. Valerie swayed into him and then pressed closer, bringing those perfect, high breasts against his chest in a way that made his throat go tight with the need to taste more of her. Taste her everywhere.

  Her hands slid up his chest and under his jacket, roaming. Claiming.

  Just like back at the party, things escalated on contact. Blood pooled behind his zipper with a molten heat that had him ready for anything. She made a soft moan that echoed exactly what he felt.

  Shifting positions, he backed her against the nearest wall. He wanted to slam the bedroom door shut and lock it behind them. Wanted to carry her straight to her bed and take this where their bodies demanded.

  But… damn.

  He pulled back, knowing it was too fast. Too out of control. Too damn soon.

  Valerie’s eyes searched his, her gaze filled with confusion the same as it had been back at the party. He wondered how long she would have let him kiss her. How far she would have taken this. Except he wasn’t doing his body any favors letting his brain wander down that path.

  “I usually give advice,” she said with a touch of hoarseness in her voice. “But I can honestly say I have no idea what to do in a situation like this.”

  She reached a finger to her lip where he’d kissed her, absently smoothing over the spot.

  “No?” He noticed her strapless gown had slipped a bit, exposing the tops of her breasts.

  The universe conspired to thwart his best intentions. Lifting his eyes from that visual feast was tougher than any workout he’d ever labored through in the gym.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I usually give advice for how to turn up the heat in a relationship. I have no clue how to turn it down before it scorches you.”

  A dry chuckle rasped up his throat.

  “Is that what you’re worried is going to happen here?”

  “Let’s be honest, Boone.” Gracefully, she straightened and tugged up the top of her dress. “I’m not the only one who is scared of getting burned.”

  “Maybe not.” He took a deep breath and told himself to go before he rattled her even more. “And I might not have your qualifications for handing out advice, but I can tell you this much with absolute certainty. Chemistry like this doesn’t come along more than once in a lifetime. I don’t think walking away is an option.”

  *

  The next morning, Valerie had checked and double-checked with Boone about where she was supposed to sit for the game. And he’d assured her she belonged in the section with the players’ wives, which wasn’t just for wives but girlfriends and significant others.

  She hadn’t reminded him that she was neither of those things. But she kept wondering if he thought of her that way. Last night had certainly shifted the dynamics between them. Wow. Had it ever. Part of her kept thinking about calling Meg and Desiree and screaming, “I almost got lucky!” but of course, the business-like Serena didn’t do things like that. She talked objectively about passion, she didn’t carry on like a teenager about it.

  The interesting thing she’d learned – well, one of many – was that chemistry ruled supreme. After being with Boone, her job on Sex Talk felt sort of irrelevant because you either had it. Or you didn’t.

  She and Boone had tons. And while that felt amazing, it also made her feel a twinge of sadness for the callers she’d spoken to who obviously had never experienced it.

  Now, wearing one of the shirts she’d picked up in the stadium gift shop, Valerie wound her way through the Atlanta baseball stadium’s seats, looking for the right section that matched the number on the ticket Boone had given her before he left to take something called “BP.” She wasn’t sure if BP involved food or pep talks or some other baseball mystery, but he’d disappeared hours before the game. One of the security staffers followed her – she’d spotted him after she emerged from the bathroom with her new te
am jersey on. But she hadn’t seen him for the past few minutes.

  “May I help you find your seat, miss?” A gray-haired usher approached her, his bright red Stars shirt identifying him as Tom.

  “Please.” She passed him her ticket. “I didn’t know it would be so big.”

  “Division rival games are always packed,” Tom informed her before his gaze flipped back up to hers. “You’re with the players’ families, ma’am. It’s this way.”

  She followed him through the maze of seats toward the 100 level. Even for a baseball novice, she could tell these were good seats close to all the action and between home plate and the home team’s dugout. The whole place glowed from the powerful lights overhead, the muggy June night a heavy, damp blanket. Attendees used their paper programs to fan themselves while the game got underway. She dodged around a few other people hurrying to find their seats and kids darting to and from concession stands carrying pretzels and candy.

  “Your seat is six rows down.” Tom handed her back her ticket. “Your usher is Randy and he’ll take good care of you if you need anything. Go Stars!” He held up his fist in a kind of cheer.

  At least twenty other patrons nearby lifted their fists and repeated the mantra.

  “Go Stars!”

  Valerie followed suit, lamely and after the fact.

  “Thanks, Tom!” she called to his retreating back right as he passed the security guy who was assigned to her tonight.

  Her father would be happy to know Boone had delivered on his promise to have her watched. She hoped he was okay back home in West Palm Beach. She’d picked up a burner phone at a gas station the day before and vowed she’d use it to send him a text. She wished she could send him a picture from the game. It would please him to no end to know that she was getting out and seeing things, rejoining the world after her long isolation in Savannah.

  “Excuse me.” Valerie arrived at the row the usher had pointed out while, down on the field, a rock and roll riff suddenly blared and the crowd went wild. “I think this is my seat.”

  She spoke to a beautiful brunette with the glossiest long hair Valerie had ever seen. She looked like a cover model with perfect features, highlighted by cosmetics so lovely it would have made a makeup artist proud.

  “Holy crap, woman, sit down!” the beauty screeched with a northern accent, shooting to her feet and arching up on her toes to see around her. “Can’t you see my Josh is at bat?” She lifted manicured hands to her coral-painted lips, a sea of yellow diamonds weighing down her right hand. “You own this pitcher, Josh!” she shouted.

  “Valerie!” another voice called to her from two rows down. “Come sit with me!”

  She turned to see Melanie Webb Hollis, the second baseman’s wife who’d visited If Wishes Were Dresses the same day Valerie had made the trip to the Savannah bridal boutique. Grateful for the sight of a friendly face, she hurried down the stairs to the seat next to Melanie.

  “Thank you.” She felt relieved so see that Melanie wore a Stars shirt and jeans shorts, no diamonds dripped from her fingers save for her wedding band. “The usher said my seat is up there but I think I’m too terrified now.”

  “She’s low on manners, but Deborah donated a small fortune to a kids’ charity at the Foundation Weekend Gala so she won points in my book. All bark no bite, maybe.” Melanie moved her purse on the seat beside her and gestured for Valerie to sit.

  Behind them, the woman cursed softly as the hitter on the field struck out.

  “I’ll take your word for it, but I’m still glad for the seat.” Valerie grinned at her as she settled into the space. There was no one to her right and there were spaces around them that were empty too, even though most of the rest of the stadium looked full. “Where is everybody?”

  “This is about average for the wives’ section,” Melanie informed her, then suddenly jumped to her feet. “Woot!” she screamed. “Go Grady!”

  Valerie sat forward in her seat, trying to see what was going on. Someone dove headfirst into home plate while another runner rounded first base. Assuming one must be Melanie’s husband, she clapped.

  “Sorry.” Melanie sat back down and held her hand up to high-five Valerie. “Just glad to see him playing well.”

  Valerie slapped hands with Melanie and vowed to study up on baseball before she came to the next game. Not that she was planning on making herself too comfortable in Boone’s world or anything. She knew this was just a time out from her real life. Before the reality of hiding, once again, from her mobster ties set in. She shoved the thought aside. People like Melanie were so nice and she wanted to be supportive.

  “I’m a total novice, but it’s fun to be here.” She’d been cooped up for so long, playing it safe under her assumed identity in Savannah that it seemed like a breath of fresh air to travel and go out in big public places.

  The sights, the sounds, the colors… it even felt good to wear her red Stars jersey instead of her shapeless, bland clothes she’d bought to fade into the background. Although, now that she thought about it, she felt a moment of self-consciousness about her red shirt. Hadn’t that wacko on the phone commented about a different red t-shirt? She should file a police report. Maybe she could tell Annamae’s boyfriend Wynn about it. He was already familiar with the case and her situation.

  “Well, I worked at the Stars’ spring training facility in back-to-back seasons and my dad was a baseball player for a while, so if you have any questions, I’m your girl.” Melanie flagged down a vendor selling peanuts and paid him for two bags.

  She handed one to Valerie.

  “Oh. Thank you.” She still hadn’t watched more than two seconds of the game. There was so much to see as fans moved around the stadium getting snacks, taking photos, and exploring the facility.

  “First baseball lesson – it’s always more fun with peanuts and a beer. Although if I stick with that motto, I’ll probably be going up a dress size before that vows renewal,” Melanie rattled on as she waved a ten dollar bill at a vendor selling cold beer. “Maybe tonight will be my last beer night. But you need to be indoctrinated, so I’ll force myself.”

  “Let me get these.” Valerie dug in her purse, thinking Desiree and Meg would like Melanie.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m the newest one in this section besides you, so let me pretend to be the wise old veteran. I’m totally getting these.” She was already shoving the money into the vendor’s fist before Valerie even found her wallet.

  “In that case, thank you again.”

  “You can repay me with some insider tips from your sex talk hotline.” Melanie lifted her beer in the direction of the field. “Oh, look, there’s your man.”

  Valerie peered down at the field and spotted him as he sauntered to the plate. And, now that she was looking around the field, she saw his face flashed up on the jumbotron screen that hung over the field. There was a picture of him on the board along with his number, his position, and what looked like hitting stats that were fairly incomprehensible to her. But from the way the crowd went nuts, she assumed the numbers meant good things. She knew from a Google search that he was an All-Star multiple times over. What that meant exactly was beyond her.

  “He’s a fastball hitter,” Melanie confided. “His lifetime average against this pitcher is insane.”

  “That’s… nice?” Valerie ventured.

  Melanie laughed. “It’s very nice. Put it this way, remember how your friend Deborah screamed that her husband owned this pitcher?” She pointed to the glossy haired brunette two rows up. “Well, in Boone Sullivan’s case, that’s actually true.”

  Smiling to show that she understood, Valerie wondered about how much living Boone had sacrificed in order to rise to the top of his field. Marriage. Family. Even normal dating was difficult, as she’d witnessed firsthand at the Black Tie Gala. It seemed sad that he’d been content for a woman he’d thought of as his enemy to be his date for the event as long as she kept the other women away. He had the kind of life many men – espe
cially younger men – might envy, yet it certainly came at a high price.

  Valerie wanted to marry and start a family so much that she’d nearly made a colossal mistake in tying herself to Erik.

  The crack of Boone’s bat pulled her from her thoughts and she watched him haul ass to first base. The whole stadium went crazy. Fans shouted and cheered, waving signs and homemade banners from their seats while the Jumbo Tron flashed images of fireworks interspersed with a “Home run” graphic. Had it been a home run?

  She moved her attention back to the field where Boone rounded third base and headed home, his team waiting for him at the plate to congratulate him.

  Valerie cheered too, a little dazed to think she’d captured the attention of a man who was practically idolized by all these people. An announcer shouted the good news about Boom-Boom Boone’s twenty-third home run of the season and the cheers only amplified.

  Boom-Boom?

  Behind her, someone was really screaming hard.

  Really screaming.

  Heads swiveled all around and she peered up to see Deborah clutching her head with both hands, her face flushed deep red. Beside her, Randy the usher and Valerie’s own security guy wrestled with a woman who held a long, glossy lock of dark hair in her raised fist.

  “Josh is mine!” the hair-wielding woman yelled. “He won’t want you with all your hair missing, you bitch!” She leaned toward Deborah to shout harder, spittle flying from her lips. She wore a Stars t-shirt with a player’s face on it.

  Josh’s, Valerie guessed.

  The other wives and girlfriends gathered around Deborah who was too busy warding off tears to get into a shouting match. Two burly guys in stadium security shirts jogged over and took the crazed woman into custody, escorting her from the stands with admirable speed.

  By the time Valerie’s attention returned to the injured woman, Deborah was being helped out of the section by one of the other wives.

  “How horrible,” Melanie murmured. “Josh has a lot of fans, but I’ve never seen one be so bold inside a stadium. In a nightclub maybe, but—”