Love from Left Field (6 page)

“Exactly my point. And Hammonds, I think you knew this years ago, which is why you wrote this proposal. And before you ask where I got it, it was part of the documents given to me when I started. So, what can we do?”

“Not a damn thing,” Cole stated flatly. “Mr. Callahan vetoed it so we never pursued it.”

“That’s negative thinking and that won’t help our situation.” Lucas bit off the words, trying not to condemn the man for being so shortsighted.

Jason leaned forward. “What can we honestly do? Spring training has started, only a few weeks away from Opening Day. Our roster is set and we’re playing games. If we change anything, we don’t have time to make it work before we go into the season. We’re just too late.”

“Not to mention the fact that Mr. Callahan will never go for it.” Cole snorted.

“He’s not in charge anymore, is he?” Lucas let the words fall into the silence. He paused a moment to let the words sink in, then he spoke in a more reasonable tone. “Wouldn’t you rather he come back to his team instead of finding out it’s been taken away to pay his debts?”

“And you really care?” Cole stated sarcastically.

“I get that you don’t trust me, so we can sit here and go round and round, playing the blame game, or we can trust each other and get this done.” After throwing down the challenge, Lucas leaned back and placed his hands on the arms of the chair, still trying to maintain an open and welcoming posture, while remaining implacable and strong.

“I don’t trust you.” Cole’s voice was weakening, the reality of the situation sinking in.

“That’s obvious.” Lucas remained calm and waited.

Finally, Cole stood. “If you can get Miranda on board, then I’ll be on board.”

Jason stood also and nodded to Lucas. “Let me know what I can do.”

Lucas joined them, shaking each man’s hand. “We can do this together.”

After they left, he sat back down and swiveled his chair to look at the stadium and the most recent team picture. He wished he could believe his own words, but it would take a miracle to save the Knights.

*

Lucas continued his
review of documents. Miranda had done a great job on the day-to-day operations side of the business. And it was clearly Miranda because, once she took over as president, process changes and efficiency adjustments had streamlined operations, saving the team money and making them a lean group. Too bad her father didn’t include her on the player side of the shop.

His cell phone rang, jarring him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and sighed. “Hi, Mom.”

“Lucas, honey. I had to hear on the news that you were in Savannah again. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Sorry, Mom. I only just got here and things have been a bit crazy.”

“I heard about Seamus. How are Gwen and Miranda? I was going to call them, but I’m sure they’re busy at the hospital. I remember those days when your father was sick.”

His gut twisted at her words, at the sadness that was still present. “They’re hanging in there. Enough about the Callahans. What’s going on with you?”

“Lucas.” His mother chided him, making him feel like a child again. “You know how hard this time must be for them. Tell me you’re not making things difficult for Miranda.”

He scowled at the phone. “Of course not, Mom.”

“Really? Miranda was such a lovely young woman, always looking to make her father happy. This can’t be easy for her.” She paused and when she spoke again, her words her hesitant. “Is the situation very bad for the Knights?”

“It’s not good, Mom. The business has changed and Seamus never changed with the times. He still thinks the Knights are a big market team. He’s delusional and he’s put them at risk.”

“But you’re there now. You’ll make it right.”

Her confident tone twisted the knife deeper in his gut. “Is there a point to this call?”

“Yes.” Her tone turned business-like. “I wanted you to extend my sympathies. I felt awkward calling Gwen. It’s been years since we’ve talked. And I’m sure she’s busy right now.”

“Of course, Mom. Thanks for calling.”

“Wait! Are you coming down to Florida for spring training? I’d love to see you. It’s been so long.”

And guilt reared its ugly head. His mother was right, as usual. He hadn’t been there since Christmas, and only for a short visit.

He sighed again. “I’m not sure we’ll be coming down, but I’ll call you if we do.”

“You’re not that far, Lucas. I miss you. And if Miranda comes down, bring her, too. I’d love to see her again. Bye, honey!”

He clicked the phone off. Leave it to his mom to add complications to his life.

M
iranda dragged herself
down the darkened hallway to her office, only the lowered lights and her memory to guide her steps. She stumbled on her heels, fatigue clouding her mind, and banged against a cubicle wall. She paused there, regaining her balance and her focus. Maybe her mother was right. After splitting her time between the hospital and the office for the past several days, culminating in today’s stressful quadruple bypass surgery, she was worn out, emotionally, mentally, and physically, too tired to be at the office. Yet here she was, checking in on all the things she’d been ignoring.

And checking on Lucas Wainright.

She had kept in touch with her assistant, Maggie, from the hospital, and reports were unnerving. Lucas had been very busy in the few days he had been there, meeting with her various departments, analyzing reports, asking lots of questions. She had to figure out what his plan was and make sure he wasn’t going to hurt the team.

Thinking of those reports and then how he had been at the hospital created a disconnect in her mind. On the one hand, he was clearly in Savannah to force change with the Knights. But he had been so supportive and helpful during those critical hours following Seamus’s initial heart attack. His support and strength helped her function in those few hours and she couldn’t reconcile that image with a man who wanted to take the team from her.

She straightened and stretched her lower back. Hospital chairs sucked for posture. She walked down the hallway and saw a light under the office door she had assigned to Lucas. Maybe he had left the light on. She hesitated for a moment, but curiosity, and the desire to avoid mountains of work, had her feet moving towards the closed door, dread dogging her steps, unavoidable like a natural disaster.

She opened the door and Lucas looked up from his laptop monitor. She didn’t want to notice how tired he looked, the way his sandy blond hair was messed up, as if fingers had run through it multiple times. His suit jacket was tossed over the back of a chair and he’d unbuttoned the top two buttons on the shirt.

He studied her coolly, almost as if he had expected her, his gaze steady and expectant.

She flushed and took a step back, fumbling for the door handle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He stood, his Southern manners not completely gone. “You didn’t.” A slight pause. “How’s your father?”

Tears dampened her eyes and she blinked them away. “He’s hanging on. The bypass went well. He’s resting comfortably in ICU.” She hesitated. “Do you care?”

He frowned and walked around the desk, coming over to her. “I never wanted anything to happen to him.”

Her shoulders slumped, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, and too much stress suddenly overwhelming her. The tears that threatened earlier in the conversation now spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Awkwardly, Lucas gathered her in his arms, pulling her close and stroking his hands up and down her back. He rested his chin on her head and let her cry, and the emotions of the past several days emerged in one cathartic instant.

Several minutes later, Miranda returned to her senses and found Lucas’s shirt soaked through with her tears. He still held her close, his warmth and strength soothing her aching soul. Her arms had wrapped around his waist without realizing it, holding him close. She picked her head up and stared up at him, his blue eyes looking down at her with compassion and something else.

He lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers and a whole different set of emotions exploded within her. Heat spread from her stomach and throughout her body; desire a steady throb in her throat. His lips were warm and soft, not pressuring, but for one moment, she clung to him as a safety raft in the swirling chaos of her life, holding on to the escape even for a moment.

A low moan shook her back to reality and she pulled back, staring up at him, slightly dazed. He lifted his head, still holding her arms, keeping her steady.

“Why did you do that?”

He looked as confused as she felt. “I don’t know. I just needed to kiss you.”

She released the death grip she had on his forearms, grasping the chair with one hand, still not confident in her stability. “Well, we shouldn’t do that again.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because we work together and my father is in the hospital in intensive care after suffering a major heart attack. I highly doubt kissing his biggest enemy should be on my list of things to do.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He stepped back and buried his hands on his pockets.

Exhaustion caught up with her suddenly, the adrenaline from the kiss deserting her as quickly as it had come and she sagged against the chair. “I’m too tired for this tonight, Lucas. Can we discuss the team tomorrow?”

He nodded solemnly. “Of course, Miranda.”

*

Miranda shifted restlessly
in the visitor’s chair next to her father’s bed. How did her mother spend all day here without being crippled? The noise from the hallway, the nurses making their rounds and aides calling for updates, all disturbed her peace, not at all conducive to healing. Hopefully her father would only be here for a few more days then back home where he, and her mother, could rest peacefully. Maybe they’d get a nurse to help her mom. Maybe…

“Miranda?” Her mother’s spoke from the doorway softly.

Miranda twisted around then stood, hurrying to the door, hoping her father hadn’t been woken up. “Mom, I thought you were resting at home.”

“I’m fine. I wanted to be here when the doctor checked in. Has he been in yet?”

Miranda shook her head. “It might be too early.”

Her mother smiled. “I remember a time when I couldn’t get you out of bed before ten. Now, here it is six-thirty and you’re dressed for work and perky. How things have changed.”

“Age and circumstances have changed.” The last was said with a sad glance at her father.

Her mother gestured to the hallway and they both walked outside, closing the door behind them. Miranda couldn’t remember a time when her mother had not been dressed ready for a showcase, but today she was dressed for comfort and a day spent at her husband’s bedside. Despite wearing a casual and comfortable pantsuit, she was fully made up with lipstick and extra cover-up that didn’t quite hide the dark circles under her blue eyes. Her hair was loose, lightly brushing her shoulders, not the usual twist, and she wore almost no jewelry except her wedding and engagement rings. As former beauty queen, her mother stressed the importance of image and looking a certain way all the time. Her father certainly expected both Miranda and her mother to keep up his standards of image, no matter what, and even in the hospital, Gwen kept up appearances. Maybe it was a throwback to the fifties and the Donna Reed era, but her parents were happy that way and Miranda was expected to maintain the image as well.

Remembering her image in the mirror that morning and the small amount of makeup she wore, Miranda suspected she wasn’t quite handling the situation as well.

“Is your father awake? Have you spoken with him this morning?”

“No, he was sleeping and I didn’t want to disturb him.”

“Good.” Her mother nodded, relief and satisfaction on her face. Then she frowned, glancing at the door. She drew Miranda a few steps further down the hall. “Miranda, I know your father appreciates you being here, as do I. But it might be best if you not try to stop by every day.”

Miranda stared at her mother; sure that exhaustion had made her not understand the words. “What?”