Dan Alexander, Pitcher Page 5

  They hit two more stores. Lisa was pretty good about trying on everything Holly picked. After the third place, they were tired and hungry. Holly treated the girl to a snack at Hawk’s Nest. Lisa wanted a latte, but settled for a hot chocolate and a scone.

  “So, which dress do you think is the best?” the young girl asked, before sipping her beverage.

  Holly laughed. “The first one! Honestly. That blue is a very sophisticated color. Brings out the color in your eyes.”

  “But it has puffed sleeves.”

  “Yes, and a sweetheart neckline. Very feminine. Pretty. And not too revealing. I think your parents will like it.”

  “Would you wear it?” Lisa narrowed her eyes.

  “Definitely! When I went to my first dance, I wore a dress a lot like that. It was dark pink.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Holly took the last bite of her scone.

  She dialed Nancy, described the dress, and offered to bring it home. Nancy agreed. Lisa and Holly returned to Maria’s Fashions. Holly paid. It’s the least I can do for them.

  “So, where is this gorgeous gown that’s gonna make my Lisa the hit of the dance?” Nancy asked in greeting.

  “Go, try it on,” Holly said, handing the shopping bag to the girl.

  That evening was spent enjoying rich manicotti, Lisa’s fashion show, and a homemade chocolate layer cake to welcome Bud back. He’d pinch-hit on a road trip for trainers who couldn’t make it. Holly laughed, ate, and listened to Bud’s stories. Her parents had rarely eaten dinner with her. Her meals had been consumed alone, maybe with the television on. She relished the chance to be part of this family, no matter how fleeting the experience. She resolved to create the same warmth and caring she saw in the Magee family someday with her own.

  “By the way, Dan Alexander was hinting for an invite to dinner,” Bud said, cutting a piece of moist cake with his fork. He turned to Holly. “He’s one of Nancy’s biggest fans.”

  “I have a leg of lamb in the freezer. That’s his favorite.”

  “Great. When?”

  “How about Friday?”

  “No, we’ve got a game Saturday. How about Sunday?”

  “Works for me,” Nancy said, pushing up from the table. “More cake?”

  He patted his stomach. “No, thanks. I’m stuffed.”

  Holly wondered why a hot, single, well-known athlete like Dan wanted to spend the evening with a middle-aged couple. Maybe she could slip out to a movie?

  “Holly, you’ll love Dan. He’s a hoot. And he loves my cooking,” Nancy said.

  Well, there went that plan. She was expected to be there for the meal. She swallowed, tension creeping into her muscles. She’d been living like a nun for too long. But maybe now wasn’t the ideal time to break that record. Still, Dan Alexander was a hard man to ignore.

  “I hope you’ll excuse me, but I’m at a very exciting part in that new thriller you gave me, Nancy. May I be excused?” Holly asked.

  “Of course, dear. You don’t have to ask.”

  The young woman slipped away. Suspense wasn’t on her mind, but romance was.

  Chapter Four

  After the road trip, Dan returned to his apartment. He’d pitched seven innings, giving up only one run to the Sharks. The Nighthawks had beaten Miami, and he’d gotten the win. He put his duffle down by the door. The place was spotless. All chrome and glass, black and white, the living room gleamed. He smiled. His housekeeper, Angela, had done a terrific job.

  Opening the fridge, he found a cold beer and popped the top. He stood by the full-length glass windows facing the Hudson River and New Jersey as he took a swig. Lights twinkled across the way. There were some high rise condos crowding the shore, but also houses, in the distance. He wondered what the families in those homes were like. Were they happy? Did they love each other? Did they have children? Or were their lives drudgery? Were they locked in loveless marriages overwhelmed by screaming, obnoxious kids? He shuddered.

  His childhood family life had been mixed. His parents had appeared happy enough. But when his older brother had gotten into trouble with drugs, they had fallen apart. Their peaceful household had become a den of accusations, recriminations, and yelling. Hostility had crackled in the air. Fights had broken out over stupid stuff. He’d had to get away, and baseball had provided the perfect escape.

  Dan had joined the minors at eighteen and never looked back. Several years later, when his brother had gone into rehab and gotten his act together, peace had been restored to the Alexander household. Dan had enjoyed visiting then, but tension had increased when Sam was there. The pitcher usually hightailed it home for Christmas, but stayed in New York or Florida the rest of the year.

  His cell rang.

  “Hey, Bud. What’s up?”

  “Nancy wants you to come to dinner on Sunday. Says she’s making leg of lamb.”

  “My favorite. I’ll be there. What time?”

  “Why don’t you come at six so we can hoist a few? No game Monday.”

  “See you then. And thanks.”

  He slipped his phone into his pants pocket and grinned. Looks like he’d be getting the scoop on Hot Dog Girl sooner rather than later.

  He finished his brew. Staring out at the darkness, he wondered if any of those lights would ever be for him. Would he have a happy family someday? Or make a mistake and end up divorced, like so many professional athletes?

  He put the bottle away and headed for his den. After turning on the TV, he slid a DVD into the player and stretched out on the couch. Cal Crawley had given him a video of the top batters in the league. Dan liked to study them—their stances, their swings, and especially the pitches they picked to go for.

  When the video was over, he headed for his bedroom. The king-sized bed was inviting. He was tired, yet the thought of settling in to sleep alone depressed him.

  His phone rang. It was Valerie. His brows knitted as he hit “answer.” “What do you want?”

  “Let’s make up.”

  “Make up?”

  “Yeah. No reason to be angry.”

  “We didn’t have a fight. We split up.”

  “I was just having a drink with another guy. Just a drink. I get lonely when you go on the road.”

  “I’ll bet.” Dan paced.

  “Someone to talk to. That’s all.”

  “You seemed pretty cozy to me.”

  “It was nothing. Whatcha doing tonight? Can I come over?” Her voice got flirty.

  Dan was tempted. Getting laid sure beat going solo, and he was too horny to settle for going without. But Valerie? His instincts kicked in. No way was he going to go back to a cheating chick. “I don’t think so, Val.”

  “Aw, come on. Forgive and forget.”

  “There’s no forgive on cheating. Have a nice life,” he said, ending the call.

  His groin protested. Only a couple of weeks of celibacy, but it had been too long for his dick. He picked up the remote and turned on the television. He liked some visual accompaniment when he was taking care of business.

  The girl on the screen was a brunette. His mind jumped ahead, and he could swear she was the Hot Dog Girl. Visualizing her face on the naked woman in the film brought his body to life. Blood pumped to his shaft as fast as a racecar does a lap on the Indy 500. He sat up as desire flew through his veins. Would she be as hot as he thought? Or simply a chick who sold food at the stadium?

  He’d have to wait to find out.

  * * * *

  Holly spent the rest of the week searching for ways to get out of the dinner with Dan Alexander. She came up empty. Nancy would accept no excuses. The young woman suspected Nancy had always wanted to be a matchmaker. It was obviously her first attempt. She’d talked up Dan until Holly couldn’t stand to hear his name one more time.

  He was a god to Nancy and could do no wrong. Holly had a different impression. He was probably a player, a womanizer, and she’d just be another notch on his bedpost. Or at least that’s what he thou
ght. She hardened her jaw. She’d set him straight on that issue. His balls could go purple before she’d sleep with him. She hated to disappoint Nancy, but getting involved with a high profile guy when she was a fugitive was not good for her survival.

  The Nighthawks were playing at home on Sunday. Holly was working the stands.

  “Hot dogs! Get yer hot dogs here! Hot dogs!” She climbed one set of steps then descended another, keeping her eye out for a customer. She rarely had time to be a spectator. Bud had warned her about that. If she was caught watching the game while people were screaming for food, she’d be fired. Those were the rules.

  Dan wasn’t pitching. She spied him in the bull pen, warming up, and prayed he didn’t notice her. She’d tried to switch her location to behind the dugout, so that when he took a break there, he wouldn’t be able to see her.

  She knew Nancy would be fussing over the meal and cleaning the house again, even though it didn’t need it. Having Dan Alexander to dinner was an honor to the Magees. Holly snorted.

  Big fucking deal. He puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like everybody else. Her privileged background had exposed her to tons of celebrities. Her parents regularly threw fund-raising dinners for governors and senators. They backed movies and rubbed elbows with Hollywood’s elite. Ransom Merrill, her father, had been born to wealth. His father had owned and run a bank. Ransom had inherited a billion dollars and spent his life hanging on to it.

  The Merrills were snobs and loved keeping company with other rich and famous people. So removed from the day-to-day life of millions, they were oblivious to budgeting or money worries of any kind. Having grown up in that environment, Holly had been just as bad as they were, until she had met Lang Green in college. The sexy sophomore had taught her all about privilege, responsibility, the middle class, the lower class, and sex.

  That’s when her schism with her mom and dad had begun. Once Lang had opened her eyes to how selfish and entitled her parents were, her pride in them had turned to shame. Over the next five years, things had gone from bad to worse, culminating in Holly dating Flash Kincaid, his arrest for murder, drugs and prostitution, and her ending up in the witness protection program.

  Every single day, she wished she could turn back the clock. And now, this probably-arrogant seducer pitcher was entering the scene. He was the last thing she needed. Ugh.

  Things were quiet for a bit. She went all the way down, closer to the bull pen, giving her a chance to watch Dan pitch. He threw with confidence. His long, powerful body moved with grace. He seemed totally at home with a baseball in his hand. Pow, pow, pow, the ball smacked the glove hard. She heard it.

  Then, it happened. She figured her staring must have alerted him or something, because he stopped. Looking up, his gaze connected with hers. He doffed his cap, gave a little nod and a smile, and then resumed practice.

  Holly couldn’t breathe. Fans were turning around to see who he was looking at. Heat filled her cheeks. She turned and ran up the stairs, hollering, “Hot dogs! Hot dogs!” Peeking back over her shoulder once, she saw him laughing at her, and it only made her run faster. He had caught her staring at him. Now, he’d think she wanted him. Shit! She tugged her cap lower over her forehead and kept her head down, concentrating on her job.

  What an idiot I am! Now, he thinks I’m interested, and he’s gonna come on twice as strong. She gritted her teeth, sold a few hot dogs, and prayed for the game to be over quickly. But nobody hurries a baseball game. The score stayed tied two to two with the Pittsburgh Wolves until the seventh inning.

  The wolves knocked one into the seats for a solo homerun. Cal Crawley headed out to the mound—time to replace the pitcher. She wondered if he was going to call Dan in. But Dan was a starting pitcher, not a reliever. Moose Macafee went in. Dan left the bullpen for the dugout. She saw him looking for her and ducked behind a pillar. Breathing fast, she peeked out to see if he’d turned his attention elsewhere.

  She let out a breath and went back to the concession stand to reload. While she was gone, Macafee struck out the next two players to retire the side. When she returned, Skip Quincy was up to bat. He beat out a dribbler to land safely on first base. Bobby Hernandez struck out. Then came Jake Lawrence. The slugger took his stance. The stands got quiet. Holly found a place where she wasn’t blocking anyone’s view.

  Lawrence took the first two pitches—one ball and one strike. With the loud crack of a broken bat, Jake put one in the stands. The ball was hit so hard, it ended up in the third tier, in the hands of some happy kid. Skip came home, and Jake followed. The Hawks led, four to three.

  The pitchers held and retired the sides in order. The game was over quickly. Holly scurried down to the stand to drop off her cart. If she hurried, she might beat Dan to the Magee’s. After all, he’d probably be showering in the locker room. An image of him naked under the spray flashed through her mind.

  “Your money pouch?” Bud asked, picking up the bulging sack from the counter and handing it to her.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, “almost forgot.” She opened it and handed him the money for the next day’s food.

  “Mind somewhere else?” he asked, putting the cash in the register and writing a number next to her name in a notebook.

  “No, no. Just a little tired. Some game, wasn’t it? She tucked the now slimmer sack into her pocket.

  “It was. Always great when we win.”

  “See you later,” she said to Bud, then headed for the sidewalk.

  She hadn’t planned on taking a shower herself, but she would. And what would she wear? The time walking home was spent going through her limited wardrobe, trying to decide what to put on after she scrubbed herself clean. She’d decided on her best jeans and a cute, pink shirt with a scoop neck. Give him a little tease of what he’ll never get. She grinned as she put the key in the lock.

  “You sure look like the cat who swallowed the canary,” Nancy said. “Go get showered and dressed. I need you to set the table.”

  “Where’s Lisa?”

  “In her room on the phone. Ever since we got her that dress, she’s been plotting and planning every second of that dance with her friends.”

  Holly smiled and knocked on Lisa’s door. Not waiting for a response, she poked her head in. “Your mom needs you to set the table.”

  “But I’m on the phone with Tiffany. It’s important!”

  “I don’t care. You’re still a member of this family. Go help your mother, or I’ll show up at the dance.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Lisa’s eyes grew wide.

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  The thirteen-year-old closed her phone and pushed to her feet.

  “That’s a good girl. I’ve got to shower and change.”

  “Showering? What for?”

  “Because I’m dirty and smelly? Isn’t that reason enough?”

  “Not for Dan Alexander, is it?” Lisa’s voice went all sing-songy.

  Damn, the kid has radar! “The table? Remember?” Holly said, as she closed the door to the teenager’s room.

  In the bathroom, she stripped off her uniform and turned on the spray. The warm water relaxed her. She scrubbed with a loofah until her skin tingled. But it did nothing to erase that sexy, smug grin Dan had shot her from the field today. She had felt it to her toes. And recalling it now sent sensation low in her belly. Damn, he was handsome.

  Yeah, he knew it, but, hey, the truth is the truth.

  * * * *

  Standing under the shower, a prickle of excitement shot up Dan’s spine at the idea of having dinner with the Hot Dog Girl. When he’d connected with her on the field, she had taken off like a scared mouse. A girl who wasn’t falling all over herself to impress or seduce him intrigued the pitcher. She’d be a challenge, but he was up for it. He liked the way her butt jiggled as she ran and her hair swung from side to side.

  After his shower, Dan wandered into the locker room. Jake Lawrence was getting dressed. He slapped some aftershave on his face.

>   The pitcher sniffed the air. “What is that?”

  “Ooh La La for Men.”

  “Smells pretty good. Can I borrow some?”

  “You gonna give it back?” Jake cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

  Dan punched his buddy in the shoulder.

  “Hey, watch it. That’s my batting arm.”

  “What are you, some delicate flower? I barely touched you.” Dan reached for the bottle.

  Jake flipped it to him. “Here. Douse yourself. Hot date?”

  “He’s having dinner with Hot Dog Girl,” Matt put in, padding into the room in his bare feet.

  “Oh, yeah?” Jake glanced over at Dan, who was applying the cologne.

  The pitcher put on khaki pants and a white shirt, leaving the neck open. He shrugged on a blue sports jacket, stuffing a tie in his pocket, in case Bud was wearing one. “Just dinner at Bud’s.” Dan avoided his friend’s gaze.

  “Bullshit. You can’t fool me. The Hot Dog Girl is gonna be there. I was thinking about her myself,” Matt said, fastening a towel around his waist as he opened his locker.

  “I’ll let you know if I’m not interested.”

  “I’m not taking your rejects.”

  “Then too bad. I got there first.”

  “Who the Hell is the Hot Dog Girl?” Nat Owen asked.

  Handing the bottle back to Jake, Dan raised his hand as he went out the door. Who was Matt to think that the Hot Dog Girl would prefer him to the pitcher? Foolish guy.

  He rang the Magee’s buzzer. A small thrill zinged through him. Fuck, I’m not fifteen going on a first date. Grow up. But he couldn’t shake the feeling. The corresponding buzz sounded, and Dan pushed into the building.

  From the moment the elevator opened, he could smell the roasting lamb. His stomach growled. Nobody could cook like Nancy. The door was cracked open, so he stepped inside.