chapter 32
Three weeks later, Allentown, PA
THE CRISP, NORTHERLY breeze snapped at his uniform as Ryan crouched deep in the base path, almost at the edge of the outfield grass and much closer to the foul line than usual. The bench had given him a signal to position himself for the ball to be pulled hard to the right side of the diamond. With a runners on first and second, the last thing his manager wanted was to allow a ball to shoot down the line and into the corner for a two-run double that would instantly tie the game.
The Allentown stadium was jammed to capacity with over ten thousand noisy, dedicated Triple A baseball fans. In some ways, this was baseball at its best—in an intimate setting where the fans didn’t have to re-mortgage their houses to take in a game—and Ryan had happily bathed in the enthusiasm that had greeted his arrival there on a rehab assignment. Triple A fans loved to see major leaguers, and they’d cheered their lungs out every time he came up to the plate in the first game. Given that he’d only recently come into the Patriots’ system, he hadn’t expected such a positive reception.
But after only three games, Ryan already itched to be called back up to the big team. He finally felt like he could play like a real major leaguer again—all thanks to two weeks of daily sessions with Dr. Farley. The techniques the doctor had imparted had served him well so far. Would he be able to keep up the success he’d had at Allentown when he got back to Philadelphia and faced big league game situations again?
He hoped like hell the answer was yes.
Philadelphia.
God, how he missed being with the Patriots. But most of all, of course, he missed Taylor and Devon. Though he’d talked to both of them every day while he was in New York, he’d only been back to Philly once since he started seeing Farley. The doctor hadn’t insisted on such a rigorous schedule, and in fact had told him they could do phone consultations in between regular visits. But Ryan knew deep down inside that he needed to get away completely and focus on getting his head straight.
So, for two weeks, he’d spent an hour or more with Dr. Farley and then trained and trained some more, working his body into its best physical shape in years. He discovered the punishing joy of early morning, five-mile runs on the winding paths of Central Park, and had spent afternoons at a gym near his upper west side hotel working with a trainer on building even more strength and flexibility into his body. Though there had been more times than he could count when he wanted to chuck the whole thing and race back to the comfort of Taylor’s arms, he’d beaten back that coward’s response on every occasion. Day by day, both the mental and physical pain he’d been suffering had ebbed away, and by the time his fifteen days on the disabled list had expired, he felt ready for the next challenge.
Still, though it was only a minor league game tonight, the pressure wouldn’t let up. One bad error might be enough for the Patriots to keep him down on the farm team indefinitely. Screwing up a throw at this point would deliver a body slam to his confidence, which had the potential to mess with everything he’d accomplished with Farley.
After a brief conference on the mound with the pitching coach, the young Allentown hurler had been ordered to keep the ball away from the tough, left-handed Louisville batter at the plate. The goal was to force the hitter to poke the ball weakly to the left side or up the middle. But the pitcher was young and raw, and it didn’t quite work out that way. On his second pitch, he made a classic rookie mistake, hanging a curveball tantalizingly over the plate. The batter took a vicious cut and ripped a low rocket to the right side between first and second base.
Reacting with pure instinct, Ryan rolled back and to his right, shooting out his arm to backhand the ball on the first hop. His momentum carried him into a fall, though, and he had to tuck his glove protectively against his chest as he tumbled to the dirt. By the time he got to his feet, the batter was in a foot race with the pitcher to see who could get to the bag first.
In the fraction of a second it took to cock his arm, Ryan had already visualized walking off the field to high-fives from his teammates. Without even being aware of the mechanics of his throw, he sent the ball smoking forward on a perfect line, leading the pitcher by half a step. When the pitcher snagged the ball, his foot touching the bag just before the runner’s, Ryan felt a jolt of confidence that he was finally back on track.
No double pumps. No butterfly tosses. No stomach-churning self-doubt.
He’d never believed in miracles, but he was starting to. Though this particular miracle might have come straight from heaven, the messenger had been the best woman he’d ever known—Taylor Page. She’d risked so much with her dogged determination to get him past his stubborn refusal to seek help. She’d helped heal a breach between him and his daughter, giving Devon the kind of support and friendship she needed at a critical point in her life. Time and again, Taylor had put everything on the line to be not only a lover to Ryan, but a true and loyal friend to both him and Devon.
Whatever happened from now on, there was one thing Ryan knew without a shred of doubt—he needed Taylor in his life, and in Devon’s, too.
* * *
WHEN TAYLOR TOLD the Allentown general manager that she wanted to surprise Ryan by meeting him as he left the clubhouse, he’d insisted on posting a security guard to keep an eye on her as she waited near the dark, narrow exit to the player parking area. She’d been more or less open about her relationship with Ryan, and even Dembinski had acknowledged it through a dumb but harmless joke as they watched from the team’s modest suite atop the stadium. Still, she couldn’t help but feel the familiar, nervous flutters in her stomach when she thought of what she planned to do.
Most of the players that passed them on the way out ignored her and the friendly giant of a rent-a-cop who had a physique reminiscent of an NFL lineman. She barely got more than a couple of mildly appreciative glances, and that suited her more than fine as she was nervous enough as it was. In black jeans and a red Patriots warm-up jacket, and with her hair hammered down by her ball cap, she wasn’t exactly tantalizing eye candy, which also suited her just fine. She figured Ryan wouldn’t care that she’d dressed down for the short road trip and game. Not after the x-rated phone conversations they’d been having all week.
From her vantage point, Taylor could see Ryan’s Cherokee parked directly beneath one of the light stanchions. She had every intention of getting in that car in the next few minutes and heading back to his hotel for a night of passion and, she suspected, very little sleep.
Tonight would be a celebration, to say the least, and not just because Ryan had played another solid game. He’d banged out two hits and drawn a walk, and he’d made a brilliant play to knock down a hard grounder that would have driven in at least one run if it had gotten by him. And, most importantly, his throw to the pitcher on that play had been right on the money—crisp and accurate, with no hesitation. Taylor had given a silent prayer of thanks as Dembinski grudgingly acknowledged the positive change in Ryan.
She had even brought a bottle of sparkling wine in her bag to celebrate, but she was dubious that she and Ryan would even make it through a toast before becoming preoccupied with much more pressing matters. Hell, they’d be lucky if they even made it to his hotel before they gave in to their mutual cravings for each other. Taylor had never thought of herself as a sex maniac before, but she’d discovered that having Ryan in her bed only once in three weeks constituted something close to torture.
Oh, well, at least they’d learned to be creative when it came to phone sex. She figured the practice would stand them in good stead for the future when the team traveled without her.
She could only hope it would be a long future.
She spotted Ryan as he emerged from the corridor that led to the clubhouse. Drawing back before he saw her, she nudged the security guard. “Okay, my date’s here. Thanks so much for your help. I appreciate it.”
The burly guard gave her a toothy grin and a quick salute as he backed away and headed down the corridor toward Ryan. Taylor quickly made her way to the Cherokee and stood beside the passenger side door, mostly out of view.
Striding purposefully, Ryan had almost reached the car by the time he spotted her on the other side. “Taylor?” he managed in a choked voice.
“Can I catch a ride, mister?” Taylor said the words as seductively as she could manage, cocking her hip in a bad imitation of a sexy come-hither stance.
Ryan started for her, and Taylor dropped her bag and hurried around the front of the car to meet him. Grinning, he was on her in an instant, sweeping her into his brawny, leather-clad arms, hugging her so tightly she couldn’t move a muscle. When he kissed her, she opened her mouth to his insistent tongue and surrendered completely. Taylor’s desire and love, mingled in a heady mix, overwhelmed her, sucking the air right out of her lungs.
“You missed me, huh?” she gasped when he finally let her up for air.
He clamped his huge hands on her shoulders and let his red-hot gaze travel over her. She knew she probably looked like one of the ball girls on the field, but Ryan didn’t seem to mind.
“What do you think?” He slid his hands down to her ass and drew her against his body. She couldn’t stifle a self-satisfied chuckle when she felt how hard he already was.
“Uh, I think you’d better get me to your hotel room in the next five minutes or less,” she said, “or we might get arrested for lewd public behavior.”
Ryan swept his gaze around the nearly empty lot. “Where’s your car?”
“At home. I hitched a ride with Dembinski. And since he left right after the game, I guess you’re pretty much stuck with me.”
“Huh?”
“Well, I thought you’d be happy that I’d want to stay the whole night. Aren’t you?” She put on a little pout.
He smiled, but still seemed puzzled. “Yeah, of course. But...”
“But what?” Taylor asked with a mock scowl. She was having too much fun drawing out the little drama before hitting him with the big news.
“You still have to get back to town tomorrow, so I don’t get why you didn’t bring your car.”
She shrugged, trying to keep a grin off her face. “Why would I, when I can get a ride back with you, in this vehicle right here?” She lightly tapped the hood of the Cherokee.
Ryan’s eyes shot wide open and he pulled back, holding her at arms’ length. “Jesus, Taylor, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
She let the grin loose, unable to hold it back a second longer. “Yep. You’re going to be called up officially at two o’clock tomorrow. Dembinski offered to let me tell you myself.”
“Yes!” Ryan whooped. He wrapped his big arms around her waist and hoisted her in the air, spinning in a full circle before setting her back down. “And I’m going to start at first base tomorrow night?”
“You bet your very fine ass you are. Dembinski said you looked like a different player out there, and from him, that’s one hell of a compliment.” She trailed her fingers down the front of his shirt, letting them rest at his belt buckle. “Now can we please go to the hotel and start celebrating?”
He nodded, but she could tell something was still on his mind. “What?” she asked, puzzled.
“I was just thinking about Devon,” he said. “You told her about your plan to spend the night here?”
God, men can be so dense sometimes.
“You think I’d just scoot up here without telling her that? She suggested that I stay, if you want the whole story.”
His brow furrowed. “She what?”
Taylor rolled her eyes at his alarmed reaction. “When I told her that Dembinski and I were going up to Allentown to see you play, she said she expected me to spend the night with you. She was really quite insistent, I might add. So I arranged for Bridget—who, by the way, has taken quite a shine to Devon—to spend the night.”
“And your mom’s okay with that?” Ryan asked in a dubious tone.
“Absolutely. Devon has been wonderful these last three weeks. Up for school in good time every day since she started, doing her homework, helping with the cooking. Okay, her room is an absolute disaster area, but she is a teenager, after all. I think my mom can handle that.”
Ryan grimaced. “I guess, but I know how crappy Bridget can feel from one moment to the next. And I don’t want to get off on a bad foot with her if Devon starts to act up. Maybe we should drive home tonight. I could spend the night at your place.”
“With your daughter sleeping in the next room?” Taylor gave him an incredulous look. “Yeah, that’ll be fun for all of us. Ryan, if we rush back tonight, I guarantee you that your daughter will brand us both as morons, as will my mother. Trust me, the two of them will get along just fine.”
When he seemed torn, Taylor wrapped her arms around his waist. “Look, I get it. But my mom—for all her faults—is not your mom. If there’s a problem, she’ll call me right away.” She leaned back and gave him a steady eye. “And Devon is very responsible, too. You’ve got to start trusting her because she’s earned that from you. So let’s give her a little space, okay?”
Ryan hesitated a brief moment, but then kissed her hard on the mouth before whispering in her ear. “I should know by now to listen to you, babe.”
Taylor laughed, so happy that she wondered how she could keep it all inside. “Took you long enough to figure that out, big guy. But better late than never.”
Ryan reached around her, opened the car door, and practically shoved her inside in his eagerness to get going. “And for that little dig, babe, you’re going to pay—all night long.”
As she watched him rush around to the driver’s side, her body tingled with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to start paying.