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She nodded quickly, wrapping her arms around herself.

Ben’s phone buzzed on the table.

“It’s Lisa. I need to take this. I’ll catch you later.” He clapped Caleb on the shoulder and stepped away from the table, murmuring “Hey, babe,” into his phone.

“Isn’t it the middle of the night in Wyoming?” Britt asked.

Caleb checked his watch. “I think she works nights at the hospital. It might be her lunch—dinner—break.”

“Of course.” Britt set her napkin on the table and stood up. “I think I’m going to call it a night. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Right. Yeah, me too.” Caleb stood, noting the heaviness that settled in his chest. “Can I walk you to your room?”

“No, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you for dinner. It was delightful.”

He nodded and watched her walk away, battling the voice of reason that urged him to insist she accept his offer.
Don’t be ridiculous. An independent, confident woman can walk to her hotel room alone. Even in Tokyo.

While he tracked down the hostess and figured out how to charge their meal to his room, he couldn’t shake the uneasiness. He scrawled his name across the receipt and left it on the table, then crossed the restaurant in several quick strides.

Outside in the hallway, he darted around a group of people walking toward the restaurant, narrowly missing a collision with a young couple. He’d heard the complaints that the elevator moved at a snail’s pace and hoped that would work in his favor tonight. The call button chimed, the doors opened and three couples came out. His heart plummeted as Britt stepped into the elevator and Tyler Jeffries slipped in before the doors closed.

No.
If he hustled, he could take the stairs and intercept the elevator on the next floor. His pulse pounded in his ears as he sprinted toward the stairs. He hoped Jeffries would keep his hands to himself.

Chapter Five

“Well, well,” Tyler said, his hazel eyes wandering from her head to her toes and back again. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“What do you want, Tyler?” Britt tamped down the panic that welled up inside, hoping he couldn’t see how much he frightened her.

“Take it easy, now. I just want to talk to you.”

The smell of alcohol and cologne churned her stomach, an unpleasant reminder of their last encounter. “There’s nothing to say.”

He scowled, widening his stance as the elevator moved upward. “Looks like you had plenty to say to that dirtbag Scott and his sidekick.”

Britt tightened her grip on the handrail behind her. “Whom I have dinner with is none of your business.”

“I’m just looking out for you.” He inched closer and tried to brush her hair off her shoulder but she scooted out of reach.

“Don’t touch me.” Her legs quaked. She had to get away. The elevator buttons were behind Tyler. How could she get past him? Would he even let her out if they stopped at the next floor?

“We had a good thing going, you and me.” His eyes were trained on her lips.

“You’re disgusting.”

Anger flashed in his eyes as he braced a hand against the wall on either side of her face, his sour breath hot on her cheek. Britt grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut, heart pounding as she weighed her limited options. A direct shot to the groin was her best bet. Before she could lift her knee, the elevator stopped and the doors eased open. She opened her eyes as Caleb stepped in, his brow creased with worry.

Thank you, Lord.

Tyler glared over his shoulder. “What’s the matter? Didn’t get your goodnight kiss?”

“Leave her alone, Jeffries,” Caleb warned.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt?”

“Don’t make me tell you twice. Give her some space. Now.”

Go. Please.
Britt peeked under Tyler’s arm and saw Caleb’s fists clench at his sides. She met Tyler’s gaze and challenged him with her iciest stare.

Tyler pushed off the wall, giving Britt one last appreciative glance. “Watch out, darlin’. I hear he’s hard on women. The last one ended up dead.”

She braced herself, certain that comment would set off a fistfight. But Caleb stood his ground, a muscle twitching in his jaw as Tyler intentionally bumped into him on the way out of the elevator.

Once Tyler was out of sight, Britt exhaled and her pulse slowed. “Thank you. Seriously. You have no idea.” What if he hadn’t intervened?

“Are you sure you’re all right? Did he hurt you?” Caleb stepped closer, frowning. He extended his hand, then—as if he thought better of it—shoved both hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

Britt shook her head. “No. He just scared me.”

“That guy is bad news. You should stay away from him.”

“I’ve tried.” Tyler had always managed to get close to her, even now, halfway around the world.

“What floor are you on?” Caleb asked as the doors eased shut. “I think I’d better walk you to your room after all.”

“My room?” Her plans for a relaxing night had vanished when Tyler stepped into the elevator. She envisioned pacing between the walls of her compact hotel room, trying to quell the wave of anxiety cresting in her abdomen.

Caleb turned back, his features hardened. “This place is crawling with baseball fans. Stand here much longer and someone is going to recognize you. Or me. Which floor?”

“Could we go someplace and talk or something? Please? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Caleb froze, his finger hovering over the bank of elevator buttons.
Talk?

“I don’t mean an interview. Just as friends. Two people … Never mind.”

He turned around and saw the tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to fall. Oh no.
Please don’t cry.
He had no idea what he’d do if she had a meltdown.

“Sure,” he said. “Have you been to the top floor yet? The view is incredible.”
Dude. What are you doing?

She sniffed. “That sounds nice.”

Caleb pressed the button and they rode in silence until the elevator stopped again. Two couples joined them, engaged in a lively conversation. Caleb held his breath. He’d never made it more than a few floors without someone asking for an autograph. He relaxed when he realized they were speaking French and showed little interest in American baseball players or television personalities. He stole a quick look at Britt. She stared at the floor, her hair falling forward and shielding her face. Was she concealing her identity or her tears?

Britt didn’t say another word. A few minutes later, the elevator stopped on the forty-third floor. He could feel the bass pumping from the Karaoke bar down the hall. Caleb trailed the other couples into the marble and steel atrium that surrounded the elevators.

Three of his teammates stood nearby, their conversation screeching to a halt once they saw him. He might not speak Japanese, but their wide-eyed expressions conveyed the universal sign for surprise.

“What’s up, fellas?” He waved, and then looked over his shoulder to see if Britt was still with him.

She’d barely moved, her eyes flitting between him and the other players.

“Caleb, you Karaoke tonight?” one of the players called to him.

Caleb glanced over at Taka Yamamoto, the best catcher on the team and also the most mischievous. “No thanks, Taka. Maybe next time.”

Taka waved and nodded, then followed his friends into the bar.

Caleb motioned for Britt to join him. “Come on, before someone steals our spot.”
Our spot?
He ignored the voice of reason in his head and watched Britt nod in agreement, her lower lip trapped behind her teeth. Something awakened deep within him.
Take it easy.

He led the way to the floor-to-ceiling windows that provided an unobstructed view of Tokyo. The lights stretched out below them, illuminating the night sky all the way to the horizon.

“Oh my,” Britt whispered.

He stood beside her, careful not to let their shoulders touch. “Pretty cool, right?”

“Is this what you do for fun? Ride the elevators looking for places to hang out?” She turned and studied him, her blue eyes dancing with amusement.

“And occasionally rescue damsels in distress.”

Her amusement faded and she turned back to the window. “I guess I needed rescuing. Again.”

He cleared his throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Like I said, it was a tough year in Kansas. The leap from a television talk show to major league baseball was huge.”

“Baseball has a language and culture all its own. I bet there was a lot to absorb.”

“Too much. I’m not a stranger to the game. I thought I knew my stuff, you know? I was thrilled to have the job, but nothing prepared me for the criticism. Too much this, not enough that. I’d been warned not to socialize with the players, but sometimes there wasn’t anybody else to talk to. How was I supposed to learn if I couldn’t get to know the team?”

The pieces started to connect in Caleb’s mind. That’s right. Before he played for the Senators, Tyler Jeffries played for Kansas City. “Did the guys treat you well?”

She shrugged. “For the most part, everyone was very professional.”

“For the most part?”

“I refused any invitations that felt like a date. But Tyler …” She shook her head.

“Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Caleb gritted his teeth. He didn’t like where this was going.

“The network wanted to interview me for this job while I was at the National League playoffs in St. Louis. I knew that a lot of people from the Giants’ front office would be in town. I’d finally get to see some familiar faces. When they won, we all went out to celebrate.”

“Wait a minute.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “A Giants fan. Seriously? We can’t be friends.”

She was silent for a moment. “You know my dad’s Max Bowen, right? Former Giants catcher? Part owner of their minor league team, the River Dogs?”

That
Max Bowen? A faint heat crawled up his neck. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“True story. Daddy’s little girl, right here. But I’m getting off track.”

“Right. So you’re hanging out, after the game—”

“I was with a few of the players’ wives and someone brought a drink to our table, said some guy at the bar sent it over.”

“This is sounding awfully familiar. Who was it?”

“Tyler Jeffries.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t know what to do. I’d side-stepped his invitations all season, tried to make it clear that we could only be friends.”

“I guess he wanted to change that.”

“But I didn’t. Plenty of female sportscasters have lost their jobs for dating players. Trust me, I knew better.” Britt stared straight ahead. “But he sweet-talked me out of my phone number. We chatted a few times and went out to dinner once. I told him I didn’t have time for a relationship. He just wouldn’t back off. It wasn’t until I was in San Francisco for the World Series that things got scary.”

“What happened?”

“Somehow he finagled his way into the party after the game. Things were different. He was so obnoxious. I left my drink alone for three seconds.” She bit her lip.

He wanted to slip his arm around her shoulders and draw her close. Comfort her. But he kept his hands to himself.

“My memory is hazy after that, but my older brother was there and thank goodness he intervened or I don’t know what might have happened.”

What a slime ball.
“You pressed charges, right?”

She looked at the floor. “I decided not to file a complaint.”

“You’re kidding. Why not?”

Britt’s head shot up. “Do you think I don’t know what people say about me? The comments about my looks and the assumption that I only have this job because of my father. If I make a big deal every time a professional athlete behaves inappropriately, I’ll never get anywhere.”

“You could stop caring.”

She stared at him, eyes flashing. “What?”

“You could stop caring about people’s assumptions and their ignorant remarks. Why not take a stand and use your fame to drive more awareness toward date rape or—” Like a bad pitch slipping off the end of his fingertips, he sensed there was trouble as soon as the words left his mouth. A muscle twitched in her jaw.
Uh-oh.

“That’s kind of ironic, coming from you.”

He looked away, dragging his knuckles across his chin. “That came out all wrong.”

“Did it?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of a scary situation. What I was trying to say was that sometimes a lousy circumstance opens the door for a positive change. You’re a role model for women now. Maybe your experience could help others.”

“You’re a fine one to talk, you know that?” She swept her hand through the air. “I can see the headlines now. ‘Caleb Scott donates millions to Mothers Against Drunk Driving.’ Or how about—”

“Stop.” Her words were like a sucker-punch to his soul. “I said I was sorry, okay?”

A weighty silence hung between them.

“Apology accepted,” she finally whispered, moving away from the windows. And from him.

“Wait.” He turned to follow her. “Can I walk you to your room?”