Bases Loaded (Mustangs Baseball) (2 page)

“Don’t you dare
say what I think you’re about to,” Tony warned.

“I’m not saying
anything. I just prefer my women…thinner.”

A thought popped
into his head—his most brilliant idea ever. He reached for the drinks he’d
ordered. “Got your drink?”

“Yeah.” Tanner
took the glass the bartender set on the counter.

He pulled a twenty
from his pocket and stuffed it in the tip jar. “Come on. I have someone you
need to meet.”

The middle
infielder followed him through the crowd.

“What’s her name?”
Tony asked over his shoulder.

“Clare something
or other.”

Clare. A real
name for a real woman
. He liked it.

They reached their
destination. Tony pressed the “skinny” martini into what’s-her-name’s hand.
“This is Tanner. Tanner, this is….”

“I know who this
is,” the second baseman crooned, reaching for the model’s free hand.

Tony turned his
back on her and bumped shoulders with the man who was unwittingly going to be
his savior. “She’s all yours,” he mumbled. He didn’t wait to see if the man was
okay with the new arrangement. His teammate had arrived solo tonight, and
judging by his reaction to the introduction, he wouldn’t be leaving the same
way.

With a little
luck, he wouldn’t be either.

Chapter
Two

Clare signed her
name to a slip offering a weekend cruise on a private yacht and, with a sigh,
moved on to the next one. As she studied the bid item, a custom designed
diamond ring from an extremely high-end jeweler, she became aware of a man
behind her. He stood close enough she felt heat radiating off his body and the
subtle deep tones of his aftershave filled her nostrils. Her body urged her to
get closer. She shifted to her opposite foot instead. Out of the corner of her
eye, she watched him pick up the pen she’d just set down. He was going to
outbid her for the cruise!

Part of her
breathed a sigh of relief, but another part wanted to weep as a tiny bit of her
fantasy died. Then she noticed the man’s hand. Strong. Smooth olive skin dusted
with dark hairs. Oh wow! His handwriting was neat as he signed his name.
Tony
Ramirez
.

Her breath caught
in her lungs, and her heart raced. If there was any man on the planet she
wanted to take along on her fantasy cruise, it was Antonio Ramirez! She had
come to the fundraiser tonight hoping to get a glimpse of him, perhaps even an
introduction if she was lucky. But getting this close to him? This was beyond
her wildest imagination. It took her breath away. The Mustangs new center
fielder was the sexiest man alive—or so said
People
magazine. And, if
the rumors were true….

Her skin flushed
with embarrassment at her wayward thoughts. She swallowed hard. He lifted his
hand and put it down again over the column for bid amounts.

Besides, no one
had any concrete evidence. It was only a rumor, and Major League Baseball
excelled at rumors. The sport practically existed on them. Who would be traded
and to whom. Who’s contract said what. Who was dating whom. Who played
The
Game
.

Gossip had it that
Antonio not only played
The Game
, but he had helped invent it.

Clare had spent
more lonely hours than she would admit contemplating what she would say or do
if someone invited her to play, too. Would she say yes?
Hell, yes!

She’d never stood
side-by-side with any of the alleged players, and though she was at this
moment, there was no danger he would pay her any notice, much less invite her
to play. All her thoughts on the subject had been nothing more than another one
of her fantasies.

His fingers were
long and, she imagined, rough from playing baseball, but they’d held the pen
gracefully. She couldn’t help thinking he would handle a woman’s body with the
same care. The thought sent a wave of heat from her core all the way to her
toes.

He’d written a
number beneath her meager bid—a ridiculously obscene amount that all but
guaranteed he would win the trip.

“If I win, I’ll
take you with me.”

She knew that
voice, the distinct accent of a native New Yorker. Her gaze snapped from his
perfectly formed hand to his more perfectly formed face. “What?”

“I said…I’ll take
you with me, Clare Kincaid.”

“You know who I
am?”
Nu-uh. No
.

“I do now.” He
moved closer until his hip grazed hers. A tingle ran up and down her side and
spread over the rest of her body like a heat rash. “I’m Antonio Ramirez. You
can call me Tony.”

“Er….”

“You know who I
am?” he parroted her earlier comment.

“Er…yes,” she
breathed. “Of course I do.”

“Good. Then this
will be easier.”

What? What was
going to be easier? Her knees shook, and she racked her brain for something to
say.

“Are you going to
bid on the ring, too?” he asked.

“Um….”

He bumped her hip
again, and she stepped to the side. He took her place in front of the ring for
auction. “We’re going to need one of these,” he said as he penned his name and
another ridiculously large bid amount.

“Wait.” She shook
her head. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re going to
need an engagement ring and wedding bands. If you don’t like the ones here,
we’ll use this for something else. I’d like to see you wear my jewels.”

Okay. So, she was
prone to fantasies, but this was ridiculous. She closed her eyes and shook her
head. When she opened them, he was still there. A sick feeling she was all too
familiar with took hold in her stomach. Humiliation.

Bitterness rose in
her throat. She’d been here before. It was bad enough the stunning women who
hung out at these events used her vulnerabilities to elevate themselves in
their own eyes. She could deal with them—had been for years. But did
good-looking guys have to use plain women to boost their egos, too? Wasn’t
being rich, talented, and gorgeous enough for a guy?
That’s the trouble with
meeting the object of your fantasies. They never live up to the image in your
mind.
She swallowed hard, trying to force the bitter pill of yet another
ruined fantasy down.

“This isn’t funny,
Mr. Ramirez.” She was proud her voice remained steady when all she really
wanted to do was hide somewhere and cry.

“And it isn’t meant
to be. I intend to marry you, Clare. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Yes, I do….”

He smiled and
anger joined humiliation and bitterness in the volatile mixture brewing in her
stomach.

“Have a problem
with that,” she added.
What an ass.

“Well then, I’ll
just have to convince you. We’ll have lots of time together. I’ve outbid you on
the spa day, the luxury hotel weekend, the private yacht and now the diamond
ring. I’ll win them all, and we’ll enjoy them together.”

Why wouldn’t her
feet move? “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

He continued as if
he hadn’t heard her. “What else do you want to bid on,
il mio cuore
?”

Ooh. Italian.
Her inner woman swooned, and her knees turned to jelly. But her brain didn’t.
She bet he’d brought plenty of women to their knees with talk like that.
Not
me, buddy
. She glanced around to see if anyone might save her. They had the
corner of the room to themselves—a situation she had dreamed of for ages, which
at the moment, felt like her worst nightmare. She was on her own.

“Look, um…Mr.
Ramirez….”

“Tony.”

Be cool. Don’t
let the bully know how much it hurts. Just act normal. Then get the hell out.
“Antonio,” she sighed. “This is…flattering. But you have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Her voice
rose above the din surrounding them, causing a few heads to swivel their way.
Clare plastered what she hoped was a smile on her face and lowered her voice to
a conversational level. “Because you and I both know this is a game, and I
don’t want to play anymore.”

Of all the
fantasies she’d conjured up about this man over the years, she’d never dreamed
he could be cruel enough to toy with a woman.

He slipped his arm
around her waist and steered her along the display table. Every cell in her
body thrilled at his touch while her brain screamed for her to run. But that
would turn an already unbearable moment into an embarrassing scene. The last
thing she needed was for one of the ballroom bullies to witness an altercation
between her and The Sexiest Man Alive. She’d never hear the end of it.

“Come on,” he
urged. “There are a few other items we should bid on. I saw them earlier, but I
didn’t bid because there wasn’t anyone I wanted to share them with.”

Clare walked
beside him, her hip rubbing along his as he held her close. She kept her hands
clutched in front of her. They stopped at a bid item that offered a ski weekend
in Aspen. Keeping her pinned to his side, Antonio bent and added his bid to the
bottom line. If she played along, maybe she could salvage some part of the
encounter After all, from a distance it probably looked like he was interested
in her. He did have his arm around her waist.
Take that, bitches.

He set the pen
down and beamed at her. “Maybe we’ll get snowed in.”

He bid on two more
items that were part of her fantasy package, only the amounts he wrote down
were outrageously large. When they reached the end of the tables, he steered
her toward one of the many bars scattered around the room.

“Soda for me, and
a white wine for my lady,” he said.

The bartender
glanced her way and winked. A tide of heat rose from her décolletage to her
hairline.

“I’ve got to go,”
she said, taking a step back.

His hand on the
small of her back reeled her in like a fly ball snagged before it cleared the
outfield wall. “Don’t go. Not yet.” He pressed a glass of wine into her hand
and picked up his soda. “We haven’t had nearly enough time to talk.”

They’d had plenty
of time, in her opinion. It only took a few seconds to find out Antonio Ramirez
was just like every other hunky guy out there. Full of himself. Not that her
traitorous body gave a damn. But her brain did. Her opportunity to escape
presented itself, and she took it.

“Will you excuse
me?” she shoved the wine glass in his direction. “I’m going to the ladies room.
I’ll be right back.”
Right
. She’d be in her car and pulling out of the
parking garage before it occurred to him she’d ditched him.
Jerk
.

She turned on her
heel and stopped short.

“Clare,” her uncle
said, automatically bussing her cheek with a kiss.

“Mr. Walker. Good
to see you again.” She hoped he caught on to her formal greeting. There were
times she enjoyed playing the my-uncle-is-the-team-manager card, but mostly it
was something she tried to keep quiet. Her present situation was humiliating
enough without having her uncle come to her rescue as if she were a helpless
damsel in distress.

Bless his heart,
he raised an eyebrow at her greeting and, with a smile, turned to the newest
member of his team. “Tony, I see you’ve met our organist.”

“Yes, sir. I have.
We were just going to go someplace quieter and get to know each other.”

Doyle shifted his
gaze to Clare. She shook her head. “Actually, I was just leaving.” She stepped
around her uncle, putting him between her and Antonio.

Behind her,
Antonio called for her to wait up, then her uncle’s voice told him to let her
go. She made a beeline for the hotel lobby and the bank of elevators that would
take her to the underground parking garage. Thank goodness she couldn’t afford
valet parking, or she would be stuck outside waiting for her car. This was much
better. In a few minutes, she’d be safe in her darkened car where no one would
see her tears.

* * *

“Clare! Wait!”
Tony reached for her, but she moved too fast, and he grabbed a handful of air.
He took a step to follow, coming up short when Doyle placed a hand on his
chest.

“Let her go.”

He hurt inside,
and it had nothing to do with the palm pressing against his upper body. There
was something about the hitch in Clare’s voice that speared him in the heart.

He brushed the
older man’s hand away. Damned if he knew how, but he’d hurt her, and he needed
to make it right. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand that
you aren’t going after her. And you
are
going to hear me.” The team
manager’s tone warned him he’d better listen—or else.

Clare disappeared
through the ballroom doors.

“Say what you have
to say then I’m going after her.”

“No, you’re not.
Leave her be, Ramirez.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You can, and you
will. I’ve heard about the kind of games you like to play, and Clare isn’t that
kind of girl.”

Tony went cold
inside. So, even the Mustangs management had heard the rumors. No worries. He’d
left that behind in New York. “This isn’t a game. She’s special.”

“You have a
reputation for being reckless, on and off the field. She isn’t your type,”
Doyle argued.

“She’s exactly my
type. She’s beautiful, and intelligent, and sexy as hell.”

“I’m warning you.
Don’t drag her into your world, Tony. Stay away from her.”

“With all due
respect, sir, I can’t do that. Did you hear her? She’s upset, and I don’t know
why. I’ve got to find her.”

“Didn’t you come
with some model tonight?”

Shit.
Tony
scanned the crowded room for his date. She was as tall as most of the men in
the room, so she was easy to spot. Only she wasn’t. And neither was Tanner.

“She ditched me
for Tanner,” he said.
And good riddance
. His publicist wasn’t wouldn’t
be happy, but he’d gladly suffer her wrath in return for his freedom tonight.
He silently vowed never to let her goad him into escorting another one of her
clients again.

“You still aren’t
going after Clare.”

Tony sighed and
allowed his shoulders to relax. He couldn’t afford to piss off the team
manager. Multi-million dollar contract or not, the man didn’t have to play him
if he didn’t want to. Refusing to escort sequined toothpicks couldn’t possibly
hurt his career, but having his ass benched before the season even began most
certainly would.

“Okay. You win,
but will you do me a favor?”

“Depends on what
it is.”

“Call her. Or call
someone to check on her. I didn’t mean to upset her, and I don’t want her to be
alone when she feels that way.”

Doyle studied him
for the longest time. Tony fought the urge to fidget. Any sign of weakness on
his part would confirm the manager’s suspicions and condemn him to low-life
status in his eyes forever. Somehow, Tony would convince him his intentions
were honest and honorable.

“I’d never do
anything to hurt her, sir. I know my track record doesn’t look good, but I’m
asking you to trust me.” He lowered his voice. “I’m through with that
lifestyle, Doyle. I know the Mustangs run a spotless operation. Why do you
think I wanted to come here? I wanted to start fresh—clean up my reputation.”
Tony spit out the half-truth with ease. He had come to Texas in order to put
distance between him and his vices, but one look at Clare Kincaid and his brain
nearly exploded with images best not examined at too closely. The miles between
Dallas and New York made acting on his less than reputable impulses more
difficult, but clearly, the move hadn’t extinguished them.