Going All the Way (Knights of Passion Book 1) Page 4

  This time, though, he had thought they had made a connection, more than sex. He should be happy that she hadn’t subjected him to the drama of the morning after. The asking for phone numbers. When can I see you again? How could I have done this?

  No, the best he could hope for is that she remained as discreet as she did slipping out the door.

  He reached for the bottle of water next to the bed and saw the business card peeking out from under his wallet, the one he casually slipped out of her bag while she was distracted at the bar last night. He fingered it.

  Stacia Kendall, Image Consultant

  Well, at least he knew who she really was if he ever needed, or wanted, to find her.

  But he was still pissed.

  Chapter Three

  The stadium was quiet with the team traveling this week. The business of baseball carried on behind the scenes, just past the door to the conference room where Jason and his agent, Scott, sat. Jason’s pulse pounded in his ears, choking the silence. He sat, poised on the edge of his seat, muscles rigid, gaze fixed on an unseen point outside the conference room window, the fetid scent of desperation in the air. Scott sat beside him as he had during Jason’s sharp nosedive to baseball’s blacklist. If this deal didn’t happen, Jason would be forced to retire. No ceremonies. No fanfare. No fans.

  His chest felt hollow at the thought. What would he do if no one wanted him, if this contract didn’t pan out? Go home, wherever that was, and do what? He’d been sitting on his ass for the past several months, with one goal – to get a new contract. Now, if he didn’t get it, what was next? What was life after baseball?

  The conference room was designed to impress, containing pictures of players diving, sliding, and pitching. One picture showed the team shareholders gathered around the strong-willed and heavily involved Seamus Callahan. The rags-to-riches controlling team owner had steamrolled his way into baseball with his wife’s money and his bravado.

  The team finally had a winning season and the old man was in his glory. But, as quickly as they had risen, the team had also plummeted, all due to the usual suspects – injuries, fatigue, and lack of leadership were slowly killing their chances. That was where Jason came in, or so he hoped.

  Seamus Callahan sat at the head of the table. A single life-sized picture of himself dominated the wall behind the head of the table, his scowl and glare, both in the picture and on his craggy face, demanded, “Succeed or get out.”

  Got ego? Jason snorted, then smiled when Scott turned and glared at him like a child caught screwing around in church.

  Scott leaned over, speaking under his breath. “If you want to play baseball this year, or ever again, behave yourself. The Knights may not be your first choice, but they’re your only choice. Seamus is very prickly and proud. Don’t piss him off.”

  “Must be the size,” Jason muttered gazing down at Seamus who was obviously shorter than most people in the room. Such a stereotype.

  Scott frowned but, before he could say anything, the door opened and a tall blonde woman rushed into the room, a whirlwind of activity and a welcome change to the stuffy atmosphere. Jason automatically stood. His mother had ingrained that into him and he had kept up the habit. Helped get women every time. Not that he needed any help, well, not until the shoulder injury. Since then, he’d been in a dry spell, and hadn’t really noticed until last night.

  Scott dug his elbow into Jason’s thigh, shaking him out of his thoughts. Everyone was staring at him, Seamus and his general manager, Cole Hammonds, were scowling, while the woman had a blinding smile on her face and something else in her eyes – gratitude? Amusement? He wasn’t sure. The time away from women had addled his brain and screwed with his instincts.

  He sat down abruptly and laughed. “My mother always insisted I stand when a lady came in the room. Can’t seem to shake the habit. My apologies.”

  Seamus’s scowl subsided slightly, although he still stared at Jason suspiciously. Cole frowned at the woman instead of Jason, until she sat down. For her part, her smile faded and she slipped into a seat across from Jason, and looked down at the papers in front of her.

  “That’s my daughter, Miranda. She’s learning the ropes before I die so she can take over, unless she marries suitably and he can run the team. But for now, it’s all her. And she’s off limits, Friar. Got it?”

  Jason gave a quick jerk of his head acknowledging the warning. He could have soothed old man Callahan’s mind. He wasn’t interested in her any more than she was interested in him. A lifetime of studying women had taught him how to quickly gauge interest and she didn’t have it. It was clear that Seamus was interested in partnering his GM with his daughter, yet the two people involved seemed to have no interest in each other. No, Jason said none of that and settled for a quick nod of his head.

  Scott heaved a sigh of relief, barely audible to anyone else, and Jason realized how much Scott was counting on this contract. He knew the situation was bad but hadn’t thought about the impact on his agent, so wrapped up in his own little world, population one. Damn, he was happier when it was population one but now there was a second person he always forgot about, someone who relied on him for their livelihood. And Scott’s youngest daughter had some health issues so he couldn’t afford to spend his time on losers and players who weren’t making money. The fact that he had stuck with Jason this long was commendable. And made Jason feel like a class-A ass.

  The least he could do was be an adult and professional about this.

  Seamus shuffled papers in front of him and frowned over the top of them. “You’re a goddamn mess, boy. No wonder my scouts were so against you. Drinking, partying, womanizing. Ha.”

  Jason jumped at the sudden bark of laughter. At least everyone else jumped too. Where was he going with this?

  Scott cleared his throat and started to speak, but Callahan held up a hand and continued talking.

  “On the other hand, very impressive batting average, home run totals, RBIs, even a Gold Glove. Not bad. On the hall of fame track, in fact. Until you screwed the pooch. Steroids?” Seamus arched a bushy white eyebrow at him, his craggy face scowling as if the word itself tasted like poison.

  Rage exploded throughout Jason’s body, hot and liquid. The room tilted around him. He surged to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. “That’s bullshit. I never used drugs of any sort.”

  Cole shot to his feet, faster than he expected a suit to move. “Back off, Friar. Told you this was a bad idea, Mr. Callahan.”

  Scott placed a hand on Jason’s arm, reminding him of the importance of calm, rational thought and action, pulling him back from another huge mistake, one from which he might never recover. Jason slowly sunk back in his seat, fighting to regain his composure.

  “I’ve denied those charges and even filed a lawsuit against the league. They have no proof, no positive tests, no admission.”

  “Just one of your teammates accusing you of using and providing him with performance-enhancing drugs.”

  A slow heat burned his face, pulse throbbing in his temples. He clenched his fists under the table in a vain attempt to control the rage. When he spoke, his voice was even but a thread of the hidden anger ran through the words. “He was saving his own ass by turning on everyone else.”

  “So you turned on him first. Is that the kind of teammate you are, turning on your fellow players? Must make for an uncomfortable clubhouse.” Cole spoke for the first time from Callahan’s side, his tone mild but the rebuke and distaste was obvious.

  Jason shrugged. “He betrayed me first and lied about it. What kind of teammate is that?”

  “Irrelevant. He got banned for life from baseball while you rode into the sunset on your white horse.”

  Jason snorted. “Some sunset. No job, balky shoulder, bad rep. Yeah, I really made out good in the deal.”

  Seamus nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. After a long pause, and an exchange of glances with his general manager, Seamus cleared his throat. “Well, your screw-up
could be our gain. You’re not my first choice for a first baseman but we just lost our guy for the season.”

  “Or longer if he gets a fine for his drug use.”

  Seamus pursed his lips, irritated at the interruption. “Yes, his drug use was…unfortunate. We don’t condone that behavior here and your past is not recommending you for this position. My daughter has pointed out that you could be a huge liability for us. Your old friend, Senator Kendall, is one of my biggest adversaries and would love nothing more than to screw my business. The only other person he has a bigger hard-on for is you. Signing you would tweak his temper and be very satisfying for me.”

  “Either way, you’re still a huge liability for us.” Miranda smoothly stepped in to the short pause. “We’re a family-friendly ballpark, working very hard to build good relations with the community. Eduardo’s accident and revelations about drugs hurt our image. We’re getting slammed in the papers and on talk radio.”

  Seamus frowned at her and broke in. “Our goal is to win. Who gives a damn about papers and radio commentators?”

  “We should, since they influence our fans. If our fans are unhappy, they might not come to the ballpark. We need their money to stay in business.” Miranda smiled at her father but there was no amusement in her gaze.

  Cole smoothly leaned forward between the dueling family members, blocking the staring contest. “As you can see, you’ve stumbled upon an ancient argument, as old as the chicken versus the egg. Which came first, the fans or the game? Either way, we have serious concerns about adding you to the roster. Probably the most important is your health. Can you still be effective after rotator cuff surgery and at your age?”

  And there it was, the final nail in his coffin. As the words droned on, Jason could feel his career, his life, his future drifting way, being slowly pulled away from him like a slowly dying worm on the end of a fishing hook. Teasing, taunting, tantalizing him then yanking away without any thought of him.

  “Why the hell are we here then?” Jason stood up, his chair almost toppling behind him. Scott lunged for the chair and Jason’s arm at the same time. “It’s obvious that I’m not your first choice, and probably not your second or third. In fact, I wonder if you even want me at all? Or was this just some grand joke – let’s screw around with Friar until we get who we really want? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not amused and don’t need this bullshit.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Friar. How do you think I, the son of poor factory workers, got to be the head of a brewery and a Major League Baseball team owner?”

  Jason spoke, before he could call back the words. “I assumed you married it.” The room took a collective inhale and waited for Callahan’s reaction.

  An odd light came to Seamus’s eye, a quick glimmer of rage that was ruthlessly suppressed. “Yes, that was part of it but the business has thrived under my control. We’ve expanded operations, are international now. That didn’t happen because of whom I married. No, I have a head for business and I know a winner when I see it. And I never go into contract negotiations unless I know the outcome. Sit down.”

  Jason let Scott pull him down into his chair, and wondered where Callahan was going with his reasoning.

  Scott leaned forward, hand still firmly planted on Jason’s arm. “Gentlemen, I have to agree with Jason. We came here in good faith, not to be insulted. Jason has passed all of the physicals and will pass any others you need. The drug story is old news and an outright lie. Are you going to negotiate or was this a waste of time?”

  “Where there’s smoke, there is usually fire, Scott. Just because there was no proof doesn’t mean he didn’t do drugs.” Cole pointed out.

  “And drugs aren’t the main issue,” Miranda broke in. “Jason has a wild reputation, one that may not fit in with the family atmosphere we want.”

  “So we wasted our time?”

  Before anyone could respond, Jason burst out laughing. “Family-friendly atmosphere? You think your current players are choirboys, in by ten, all alone? Bullshit. Your team is young, full of kids making more money than they ever imagined and having their pick of women. You can delude yourself all you want but they’re no different than I was at their age. And yes, I did grow up. Most of the rumors are just that, rumors. But who cares about the truth when the rumors are so much fun? You need me as much as I need you. Sad, unfortunate, unwelcome, but true. So what’s it going to be?”

  Seamus cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him. “We didn’t waste your time. Yes, we need you and you need us. But you need us more. I can pull up someone from Triple-A. You can’t get another job unless you go to Japan.”

  “A Triple-A player won’t bring home a series ring or even a division win. I can.”

  Seamus’s face broke out in a broad smile and he guffawed. “Cocky. I like that.”

  Jason leaned back in his chair, satisfied he’d made his point. “It’s not cocky if it’s true.”

  Seamus grinned and slapped Cole on the back. “Yup, I knew he still had spirit. He ain’t broke yet. See, we both know you’re going to play for us, but there is one condition and, son, I’d advise you take it.”

  Scott interrupted before Jason could speak. “What condition?”

  “We need a first baseman and you need a chance. We’re offering you a shot for the year, no additional clause, no contract for next year. This is just for the next three months, if we get into the playoffs. A few financial incentives for you depending on your level of play and if we get into the playoffs. Standard stuff really. We’re giving you a shot to prove you can still play. Puts you in good position for next year. In return, you’ll stay squeaky clean and focus solely on the game – hitting, fielding, catching. No more, no less. You will be as monk-like as your name, Friar. Or else, we’ll drop you like yesterday’s garbage and leave you rotting by the side of the road. Got it?”

  The initial exhilaration was slowly replaced by the numbing realization of his precarious position.

  “To that end,” Seamus continued, “you’ll have a professional babysitter. Someone to watch your ass and clean up after you. Someone to clean up your image. I don’t have time for image issues, even with only a couple of months to go. Miranda has lined up a few options and will go over them with you after the contract is finalized. Are we clear?”

  Jason studied the field for a long moment, watching the grounds crew work on the turf. He could almost smell the fresh-cut grass, the pine tar, sweat, not to mention the food from the stands. He ached to be on the field, it was the only thing he knew, his whole life. Could he seriously bend over for Callahan and let him run his life, personal and professional on the odd chance that he could excel here?

  He glanced at Scott. His agent’s jaw was tense and shoulders held tight against the inevitable decision. He realized that it wasn’t just his life he was screwing around with but his agent’s. And Scott deserved better, after sticking with him through everything. His hand brushed a piece of cardstock in his pocket.

  Decision made, Jason stood and looked Callahan square in the eye. He held out his hand. “We have a deal. But I have a suggestion for my babysitter.”

  Callahan stood up also and shook his hand in a firm grip, continuing the shake for a few seconds longer than necessary. “Glad to hear it. Don’t blow it.”

  *

  Stacia opened the door to her condominium and stale warm air slapped her. Damn it. Had she forgotten to leave the air conditioner on again? She tossed her purse and briefcase on the table and closed the door, then leaned against it and sighed heavily. Home sweet home. To her, it was no different from so many hotel rooms. A place to lay her head between jobs. Now that she was essentially unemployed, what would she do?

  The first thing was to crank up the air conditioning and cool it down. Summer in Savannah was not a time to be without AC. A low rumble in her stomach dictated her second priority—food. She strode down the hall, pausing to adjust the temperature control and then into the kitchen. The blinking red l
ight on her answering machine shone through the fine layer of dust coating the phone, the small desk, television and probably everything else in her small one-bedroom condo. Had it really been that long since she’d been home for any length of time besides to sleep?

  She turned to the landscapes calendar on the fridge and noticed it was still on June and but it was August. That did not bode well for breakfast, at least not at home. She opened the fridge, hoping something edible remained. She ignored the voicemail notification from her cell phone, even though every cell in her body screamed for her to answer it. Maybe Glazier had reconsidered firing her. Maybe her boss had another job for her. Maybe her father had apologized.

  She snorted. Yeah, this was her new reality—fantasies.

  Although last night’s fantasy was just what she had needed. A hot steamy night of sex and no worry to her job, future, ruined life. At the thought of Jason, her stomach fluttered and she shuddered. Lord, that man was the balm to her bruised ego, along with her long-neglected lady parts.

  Back to reality. She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottled water to quench her sudden thirst. A quick glance confirmed her fears. Not a damn thing to eat except a few takeout containers which looked like a science experiment and some milk that smelled suspiciously spoiled. She slammed the door and strode to the small desk in the kitchen. May as well check in before heading to the store.

  “Stacia, it’s me. Sophie. What happened last night? Are you okay? Are you dead by the side of the road? Or are you weak from pleasure? Call me. Must. Have. Details.”

  She grinned. Oh yeah, Sophie would want details. She’d have to wait. Stacia wanted to keep the glow to herself for a little while, at least through breakfast.