chapter 4
WHAT THE HELL was up with Taylor Page, anyway? It seemed like every time Ryan glanced her way, she was looking straight at him with those piercing baby blues of hers. Even weirder, every time he caught her, she immediately swung her attention back to Joe Ridge, who must have wondered why his dinner companion’s gaze was centered just over his left shoulder. Two other guys were at their table, but they were in the process of leaving.
Okay, Ryan was pretty much directly in Page’s line of sight. So if she looked past Ridge and straight across three other tables at the Summer Moon, she was naturally going to be staring right at him. And he was sitting in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that gave out onto a spectacular nighttime view of the Gulf of Mexico. Still, he would bet a thousand bucks that her attention on him wasn’t a figment of his imagination, and it was probably no accident that she showed up at the bar tonight, either. Checking him out at batting practice, drinking at the same bar, eyeing him repeatedly—it added up to a big mess of something’s going on, babe.
Ryan enjoyed hanging out at the Summer Moon during spring training. Shooting the breeze with other players and having a few brews helped him unwind after a game, and was usually good for a few laughs. There was an easy camaraderie that disappeared once the regular season got underway and the pressure started to ratchet up. And Ryan needed relaxation a lot more than usual. The gut-tightening tension that came from being showcased for a trade wasn’t going to fade until something happened, one way or the other.
He gave it ten more minutes, but Taylor kept sneaking glances his way. Enough was enough, and it was time to confront the issue or drive himself crazy wondering what the hell she was up to.
After draining the last of his beer, he got up. “See you guys later,” he told his tablemates. “I’ve gotta check something out.” He tossed a twenty onto the table. “That’s in case I don’t come back.”
“Check something out? Like that blond hottie sitting at Ridge’s table?” Hornets’ pitcher Chance Baptiste said with an exaggerated leer. “The one that keeps giving you the look?”
Baptiste obviously hadn’t recognized Taylor Page. Ryan wasn’t particularly surprised. Not everybody followed the comings and goings in baseball front offices—at least not as closely as he did. Then again, most players didn’t share his ultimate aim of moving into the executive suite himself. “Just thought I’d go say hello to that table for a minute,” he said casually.
When he approached Ridge from behind and tapped him on the shoulder, his GM almost jumped, then twisted around. “What the f*ck, Locke? Don’t sneak up on a guy like that. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Taylor’s pretty pink mouth had dropped open when she figured out Ryan was heading straight for her table. She finally managed to snap it shut but her eyes were still rounded with surprise.
“I didn’t think these lead feet of mine could sneak up on anything, Joe,” Ryan said, taking a relaxed stance. “You must have been so entranced by your beautiful friend that you couldn’t hear anything.”
Ridge snorted, but Taylor’s lips curved into a suddenly welcoming smile—one that put Ryan on full alert.
“Why don’t you introduce us, Joe?” she said in a voice that contained a tiny bit of hesitation and a whole lot of honey. “I recognize the gentleman, of course, but we’ve never met.”
“Locke, this is Taylor Page. Taylor, Ryan Locke,” Ridge said in an oddly neutral voice. “Taylor’s a new AGM with the Patriots.”
Ryan fixed his gaze on the woman, not Ridge. “I know exactly who Taylor Page is,” he said to her. He couldn’t tell for sure in the dim light, but he thought she blushed.
“Well, I guess I should be flattered,” she said. “At least I hope so.”
Her gaze drilled into him, as it had all night, but now it contained something playful, too, and Ryan found himself drawn in by it. Though he’d intended to ask her why she’d been visually stalking him all night, Ridge or no Ridge, the question died on his lips as he searched for a response.
From a distance, he’d found her a total babe. From up close, Taylor Page took his breath away. She wasn’t model beautiful, by any means. Most models had huge, deer-in-the-headlight eyes, shampoo commercial hair, and cheekbones that looked carved out of polished marble, none of which applied to Taylor. But the woman was strikingly attractive, nonetheless. Her smooth, pale complexion and silky white-blond hair suggested her family had Nordic origins, as did the eyes that reminded him of a clear blue sky on a crisp fall morning. She wasn’t tall, but her curves were generous and her body looked toned and glowing with health.
And although he tried to avoid staring at them, her breasts could only be called outstanding. Her pink, scoop-necked tee shirt revealed more than enough cleavage to get his hormones paying very close attention.
“I keep up with what’s going on in the front offices,” he finally said with what he hoped was a casual shrug.
Ridge gave him an off look before suddenly rising. “I’ve got a meeting tonight with our minor league staff so I’ve really got to get going. It was great seeing you again, Taylor. Let’s make sure we connect again sometime during the season.” He turned to Ryan. “And as for you, Locke, we’ll be taking care of the busted cooler. And the Gatorade,” he said with no trace of humor. “But you’ll be getting the bill.”
Ryan tried to hold back a grin. “My little contribution to improving the facilities at Cal Torrance, boss,” he said in a solemn voice.
Taylor held a hand to her mouth, clearly hiding a chuckle. “Thanks for dinner, Joe,” she said with a smile to the GM. “My turn next time.”
“You’re on,” Ridge said with a wave.
Ryan thought it a little weird that Ridge would just take off like that, meeting or no meeting, since he’d left Taylor all alone at the table. He wondered what she’d say if he suggested that she join him and Baptiste.
Taylor raised her three-quarters full glass of beer. “Since I suddenly find myself bereft of a drinking partner, would you like to keep me company while I finish this, Ryan?”
That sounded so much better than going back to drink with his teammates. “Why not?” he said, glancing over at Baptiste, who had a shit-eating grin on his face.
“So, what did you think?” he said as he took Ridge’s seat and held up his index finger to Lucy, one of his regular servers. Lucy nodded an acknowledgement of his usual order.
Taylor arched her elegant brows. “What did I think about what?”
“About how I played today, or was I just fantasizing about you checking me out?”
Taylor’s lips formed a startled little “O”. Ryan found it cute has hell.
“Ah, fantasizing?” she said. “Such an interesting choice of words.”
Though her face gave little away, her eyes gleamed with interest. At least it sure looked that way to him. “You mind if I call you Taylor? Though I suppose it really ought to be Ms. Page, or maybe ma’am. What with you being a big time senior executive and all.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Taylor will do. Formality might give me a swelled head. I suspect you aren’t about to entertain the possibility that a baseball executive might not have an inflated ego.”
Ryan laughed. “Like players don’t?”
“You’ve got a point.”
She hadn’t taken a sip of her beer yet. Maybe she thought it was impolite to drink while he was still waiting to be served. Taylor did seem like a class act, and spoke like she’d probably graduated from some fancy schools. They hadn’t taught him to talk like that at his Jacksonville high school.
It sure wouldn’t be a chore chatting with her all night, but not unless he got what was bugging him off his chest. “I really handed you guys a cheap win today, didn’t I?”
Okay, so tell me what you think of my arm.
She gave a shake of her head, enough so that her fine hair brushed her cheeks. “It was just one play in a meaningless game. And I must say I found your assault on the big cooler to be rather charming in its youthful vigor.” She pursed her lips in a sweet gesture that seemed to mock and commiserate at the same time. Her easy charm could suck even the most hardened cynic right in.
“Instant stress relief,” he joked. “But are you going to answer my question? Were you scouting me today or not?”
She hesitated then said, “Given that the Hornets left you out there for the full nine innings, it would be my guess that there were more than likely quite a few people scouting you today.”
Huh. Talk about a non-answer.
Maybe she’d just been staring at him at the batting cage because she liked the look of his ass in a uniform. Yeah, that’s it.
He decided to take a different tack. “Did Ridge tell you I was on the trading block?”
Lucy thumped a Jai Alai IPA on the table, giving him a knowing look. She probably thought he was finally about to score tonight for once, instead of sticking close to his buddies as usual.
Taylor’s poker face was thoroughly in place. “You know I can’t answer a question like that. But I will say that Joe and I go back a long way.”
“Listen, Taylor, I’m not blind and I’m not stupid.” He took a long draft from his bottle, making her wait. “I can figure out when I’m about to be screwed,” he finished in a hard voice.
She looked down, twisting the ring on her right hand, one with some big gemstone in a bluish purple shade. “Then let me ask you a hypothetical question, Ryan, if I may. If you were put up for trade, where would you like to end up?” She unleashed another bone-melting smile in his direction. “Obviously, you’ll have a say in the matter since you’ve got five and ten status.”
Five and ten status, meaning players with at least ten years in the major leagues and five consecutive years with their current team. Under baseball’s rules, those players could only be traded with their consent.
Hypothetical, my ass.
“A say? Not much of a one,” Ryan replied curtly. “You know a guy in my position can’t dictate terms. Not many teams are going to want me, given my recent, shall we say, defensive challenges. And if I refuse to be traded at all, the team would just make me ride the bench and then dump me at the end of my contract. By that time, I’d be so rusted out nobody would want me anymore. You know that’s how it works as well as I do.”
She pressed her lips inward, lowering her gaze ever so slightly. She knew he was right. The best he could bargain would be to get the Hornets to make a deal with some other team he could live with. New York, Boston, Cleveland, Baltimore—pretty much anybody in the AL other than the west coast teams or Texas would probably fit the bill. And even that would be a tough go for him and his agent to pull off.
Taylor raised her lovely blue eyes again. “Still, you must have some definite preferences, and I’m sure you’ll make them known.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes, as if doing so could help him see into her brain. She had to be trying in a roundabout way to sound him out about going to Philadelphia. Actually, everything being equal, he’d love to play in Philly—it was close to home, close to Devon’s school, and a great city with appreciative and loyal baseball fans. There was one big problem—there was no American League team in Philadelphia.
“Hell, yeah,” he answered, deciding to play along for the moment. Although not the most pleasant topic, he had no desire to break off the conversation. Taylor Page was easy to talk to and even easier to look at. His eyes had taken in every inch of her flawless skin and had dipped a little south several times—too many times, really, which probably made him a sexist a*shole—to that tantalizing cleavage of hers. But any healthy male under the age of eighty would have a hard time keeping his eyes off those sweet assets all night. He’d only ever seen her in business attire, and her filmy, sexy top had revealed a surprisingly lush figure.
“And?” she prompted.
“If I can’t stay in Pittsburgh, I only want to go to another team in the northeast. For obvious reasons, it’s got to be an AL team.”
Taylor’s brows arched. “Are you sure they’re so obvious?” She sipped at her beer for the first time since he sat down.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked incredulously. “With the way I play defense these days?”
Oh, Jesus. The Patriots really must be interested in me. Ryan had a sick feeling in his gut, even though he couldn`t imagine why they`d want him.
“Besides,” he continued, “there’s no reason I couldn’t DH for another six or seven years with an AL team.”
Taylor blinked once and her mouth twisted a little, as if she’d had a momentary stab of pain. Ryan got the feeling she didn’t like his answer, and that spiked his concern.
“Sure, you’ve got some challenges on defense because of all those injuries,” she said with an argumentative note to her honey-toned voice. “That’s common knowledge. But you’re as good at the plate now as you’ve ever been. You’re a solid run producer, and you’ve got a lot of baseball left in you, as far as I can see.”
Ryan mentally blinked. Hell, the woman sure knew how to butter up a guy who was feeling down. Though Taylor was only stating what was clear to anybody from his stats, somehow when the words came from that lovely, earnest face they sounded sincere and penetrated deep.
But he shook away the moment of unfurling pleasure. What was she up to, anyway? What message was she sending him? None of it seemed to be making much sense.
“Man, I’d sure like to be negotiating my contract with you, Taylor,” he said with a forced laugh. “I wouldn’t need my agent. I’d just bring along a sack to haul away the cash.”
Yet again she showed him those perfect, toothpaste ad teeth when she grinned. “The only problem with that is that I never get near any negotiations—possibly for that very reason. I’m a behind-the-scenes person. A glorified analyst, really.”
Wow, someone in baseball who doesn’t have an Everest-sized ego. Ryan liked her more by the minute. “If so, you’re hands down the most beautiful analyst I’ve ever seen, that’s for sure.”
His words surprised the hell out of him. They’d just seemed to pop out, and he instantly worried that he’d offended her.
A faint blush colored Taylor’s fair cheeks. She obviously hadn’t spent a lot of time in the sun yet this spring. “Nice line,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.
Actually, it wasn’t a line. Ryan had no intention of trying to pick up the AGM of a rival team, for God’s sake. He’d just blurted out exactly what he felt at that particular moment.
“So, why only the northeast teams?” she asked quickly, clearly anxious to get her equilibrium back. “That really limits your options. Not to mention making it hard for the Hornets to swing a deal if they do want to move you.”
Ryan tended to keep his family life under wraps as much as he could, but he found himself wanting to confide in her. Between Taylor’s genuinely empathetic listening style and lovely face, he could talk to her all night long. All night long.
Get a grip, man.
“My daughter goes to a private girls’ school in Westchester County, New York,” he said. “She’s got another three years there after this one. I’d actually take a big salary cut to go to the Yankees because I’d be real close to her, but as long as she’s no more than a short plane ride away, most other eastern cities would be okay, too.”
Taylor nodded, and Ryan got the impression she might already know about Devon. He wondered what else she’d unearthed about him.
“What’s her name?”
“Devon. And she’s fourteen, if that was going to be your next question.”
Taylor smiled. “Of course.”
“There you go, then,” he said, then mentally winced at the lame reply.
“It must be hard raising her on your own,” Taylor said before taking another sip of her beer. If the way she was nursing it was any indication, she wasn’t much of a drinker. Or, she had no intention of letting her hair down in public, especially with a player.
Didn’t seem stop her from wanting him to let his hair down, though. But he figured everybody in baseball from the owners to the guys selling beer in the stands seemed to be in the know about Ryan Locke’s gruesome divorce, even though it was over seven years since his ex-wife flew the unhappy nest. That’s what he got for marrying his high school sweetheart when he still didn’t know his ass from a bag of practice balls. He was convinced it should be illegal for nineteen year-olds to get married. At least idiots like he’d been at that age.
“She’s a good kid, but I make a lousy mother.” He tried to make light of it while acknowledging the truth of her statement.
“I can’t even imagine how you manage it.” Taylor shook her head very slowly. “And the poor kid. It’s beyond me how any mother could abandon her child.”
Ryan sucked in a breath as the familiar old pain jabbed low in his gut. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Taylor knew what had happened to his family all those years ago, since it had been splashed across the gutter press and speedily made its way around the league. Ashley had run off to Guadalajara after falling in lust for a rich Mexican businessman she met at the hotel fitness club where she worked as a trainer. She’d been moaning for years about how his career left her what she’d called a “baseball widow.” Ryan had thought she’d understood what she was getting into when she married him, but it had turned out he was wrong.
“Devon doesn’t either,” he said in a grim voice. “It’s heartbreaking, even now.”
Shut up, Ryan—you never talk about this stuff to anybody. He stared at the colorful label on the beer bottle as if he were trying to break a secret code.
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Taylor said, sounding like she really meant it.
He couldn’t help brooding as he stared at the bottle. “You know how many times a year Ashley calls Devon?” He made a circle with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Yeah, exactly zero. But, hey, let me give credit where credit is due. On Devon’s birthday, every year without fail, she sends her a card and a stupid stuffed animal or some piece of clothing Devon wouldn’t be caught dead wearing, and signs the card “Mommy.” Two years ago, Devon gathered all that crap up that he’d stored in the basement, took it out to the back yard, poured lighter fluid on the pile and threw a match.”
He smiled at the bittersweet memory. “I was happy about it, because I thought maybe that kind of symbolic act might give her some kind of…closure, maybe.” For the last two birthdays, Devon had made him open the packages without her seeing them and give the presents to a local shelter.
Taylor’s mouth had turned down in shock. “Did it help Devon, you think?”
“Not really. It was like she’d repressed her rage for all those years, and couldn’t do it anymore. It got so bad I thought I might lose her completely. I did everything I could. The best counselors, changed housekeepers whenever she decided she didn’t like somebody, bought her anything she wanted…” Ryan felt his throat tightening as he relived the agonizing memories. “Finally, last spring our family doctor found her a shrink she actually liked and could relate to. Maybe it was because Dr. Rose was barely more than thirty years old. Anyway, somehow the woman managed to convince Devon—and me—that what Devon really needed was more structure in her life. A consistent, enveloping environment that could make her more secure.”
Taylor’s gaze softened with sympathy. “You don’t have to tell me anything more, and certainly not if it’s too painful. I just hope I haven’t pried too much.”
Actually, Ryan wanted to lean across the table and kiss her sweet, lush lips. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had looked at him with such warmth and understanding after he talked about his daughter—not that he’d ever told any of them half of what he’d revealed to Taylor. In fact, it had always appeared to make most of his dates uncomfortable, so he quickly changed the subject. With Taylor, though, it was almost like talking to Dr. Rose.
Still, he knew he had to be careful. Shrinks had confidentiality requirements—Taylor could blab to whoever she wanted, though his instincts said she would never do that.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a casual wave. “Anyway, Dr. Rose managed to convince us to try a residential private school. That’s how she ended up at Edenwood Academy.”
“Interesting. Is it going all right?”
Devon had been okay at first about what she’d jokingly called her “internment,” but when she went back to Edenwood after spending Christmas with him at home, things had started to go south. The fact that he had to spend six weeks now in Florida didn’t help matters, either. “Ask me again at the end of the academic year,” he said.
Taylor paused a moment, and then said, “Did Devon’s struggles take a toll on your play last season? I know your injuries played a role, but…” She let her voice trail off.
Ah, now she’s bringing it back full circle to baseball. Not surprisingly, he felt some deflation.
“But I played like my mind wasn’t always one hundred per cent on the game? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“No, I just thought…” Again she didn’t finish her sentence. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t implying anything. Maybe we should change the subject.”
“Great idea.” Ryan liked talking to Taylor—a lot—but not about how he was playing. Not now, anyway. He picked up his beer bottle. “I’m having another. Can I buy you one more?”
Taylor drained the rest of her glass before giving him a thumbs-up sign.
Ryan looked around the room for Lucy, thinking this might be one of the weirdest and possibly riskiest conversations he’d ever had with a woman, given who Taylor was. But she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave, and he sure as hell wasn’t either.