Love of the Game (11 page)

It was a legitimate question, but it made Kasha feel defensive, and she had to wonder about her feelings. Emma had mental challenges, true, but Kasha didn't want her sister pigeonholed by a number. “She reads on a third-grade level.”

“So it will be like having an eight-year-old for the rest of your life.”

Kasha could feel herself bristle. Nothing about Axel's expression or his body language suggested he meant anything negative by the comment, but she couldn't help feeling resentful. Emma was an incredible human being no matter what her capabilities.

“Yes,” Kasha said. “And I'm fully prepared to accept that responsibility.”

Axel looked at her with such respect and admiration it immediately dissolved her defensiveness. He was on her side. Her heart fluttered, and she dropped her hands.

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?”

“I'm not amazing at all,” she protested. “I never expected to feel so overwhelmed by love, but I am.”

“You're a good person, Kasha Carlyle.” His eyes were as tender as a whisper. “I'm honored you shared that with me.”

“I don't know why I did.” Feeling self-conscious and hating it, she lowered her eyelashes. “Maybe I was using you as practice. I have to tell my parents about her tonight. I've put it off as long as possible. I'm picking Emma up tomorrow. I have her for the weekend and it's my first time having her stay with me overnight.”

Suddenly, she was acutely aware of just how alone
they were. She noticed that he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and had a sexy stubble thing going on. Her nostrils flared on the scent of coconut massage oil mixed with his heady masculine fragrance.

Compelled by a force that she could neither explain nor resist, her gaze was drawn to the shape of his mouth—perfect color, shape, and size.

Kiss-worthy lips.

A vivid image of kissing him flashed in her head, and she could almost feel his mouth on hers. Moist. Weighted. Delicious.

Twin spots of heat burned at the backs of her knees, spread quickly up her thighs. Alarmed by her wayward thoughts and feelings, Kasha turned away and started putting away supplies and equipment.

Axel joined in.

“I've got this,” she said. “You're the patient. You rest.”

“I'm not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you slave away.”

“Breaking down a massage table is hardly slave labor.”

“Sphinx, I'm used to being part of a team, helping out. For now, we're a team, and I'm not letting you carry the load alone, so get over it.”

It wasn't her independence or need to be in control that wanted him to back off. Rather, it was this ridiculous attraction she felt whenever she was near him.

“Please,” she said, trying not to sound desperate. “I've got this. Why don't you go take a shower while I finish up?”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, nudging her out of the way so he could break down the massage table. His hip against hers was electric, and it was all she could do not to gasp at the contact.

She started to argue with him, but decided to let it go. He was standing too darn close and she stepped back. “Don't hurt your shoulder.”

“I won't.”

She pressed her fingertips together, tried not to fret, and mumbled, “Cocky.”

“I heard that.” He finished folding the table, propped it against the wall, and turned to her with a laser beam grin.

Why did he have to be so pulse-jerkingly handsome?

“You're just one big ear.”

“I do have great hearing.”

“Must be annoying when you're playing baseball.”

“I block all that out when I'm on the mound.”

“Oh yeah, so you said,” she murmured, and still avoiding his gaze, looked out the glass wall of the gym to the pool.

Looking at the pool made her remember the day she'd fallen in, and that made her remember the close quarters of the bathroom, and how close his hot lips had been to hers. Absentmindedly, she reached up to touch the scrape at her temple that was nearly healed.

“Kasha.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look at me.”

No. Don't wanna.

But Kasha wasn't a coward. She raised her chin, gave him her coolest noncommittal stare, and got tangled up inside those spectacular dark eyes.

“Go to lunch with me,” he said.

“What?” she mumbled, so mesmerized by him that she was only vaguely aware that he'd spoken.

“The Creedys are out of town for the holiday weekend, and I'm a horrible cook. There's a good chance I'll die of food poisoning if left to my own devices.”

Absolutely not. That's what she should have said. She was in enough hot water being his therapist, much less socializing with him.

Instead, she hesitated.

He took her hesitation as a yes. “Great. I'll shower and change and grab my car keys and you can take me to the best place in town.”

Say no.

But then she thought, hey, at least in town, at a restaurant, they wouldn't be alone. And the way lust bombarded her every time she saw, touched, heard, or smelled him, that was a good thing.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “But this isn't a date.”

“Of course not.” He blinked at her as if that was the silliest thing he'd ever heard, and then she felt embarrassed for having said it.

“Go shower,” she said, pointing at the door. “I'll finish up here and then be waiting for you at my car. I'm driving. No discussion.”

His grin cracked open as if he was a fisherman who'd just reeled in the catch of a lifetime.

Nervously, she reached for the coconut-scented massage oil, meaning to cap it, but the outside of the bottle was slippery and it fell from her hands, spilling oil all over the front of her clothes. It drenched the entire room in the smell of the tropics, and had her thinking of palm trees and umbrella drinks and Axel in a Speedo.

Heat that started at the backs of her knees rose all the way to the nape of her neck.

Frig, she was covered in massage oil and all she could think about was having sex with him.

“Hang on.” He grabbed for paper towels from the sink, and moved toward her as if he was going to start dabbing her.

She snatched the paper towels from him. “I've got this. Go.”

“But you're covered in oil.”

“I keep a change of clothes in the trunk of my car.”

He stared at her for a long moment. His smile was sly. And everything inside her ached and hummed. “You can have the downstairs bathroom. I'll shower upstairs.”

“Great.” She made shooing motions with one hand as she dabbed at the oil on the front of her chest with the other. And realized belatedly that the oil made her nipple visible through her shirt.

And that he'd already seen it.

“Go.”

“Yes, ma'am.” His dangerously handsome eyes danced, amused.

Her body responded, going soft and warm and wet and treacherous. As she watched him walk away, she couldn't help wondering how she was going to survive another two weeks without breaking every rule in the book.

W
hen Axel came out of the house to find Kasha standing beside her green Prius, he smiled a proud, hit-the-jackpot smile, slightly self-conscious about how happy he was, like some Hallmark greeting card prince on one knee, clasping a glass slipper in his hand, a sappy sentiment written in scroll script: We fit!

Because that was how he felt.

Joined. Connected. He and Kasha fit like a lock and key.

She was amazing. A grounded, logical woman who took life with a steady, unwavering gait, and stole his breath with those soulful dark eyes.

Important to an intensely ambitious guy who'd spent much of his clueless life blundering around as if he were a china-closet bull.

She wore a billowy white shirt that rippled over her skin like water whenever the wind blew. It was belted at the waist with a wide gold snakeskin-print belt, and the material was so gauzy, he could see the white camisole she had on beneath.

Yellow skinny jeans hugged her long legs, showing off the curve of her calves, the slim taper to her ankles, and her long, lush, almost-black hair was done up in a single braid that hit her mid-back.

Her lips were the color of raspberry stains, sweet and darkly bright. She looked like a regal bird peering down from a lofty perch, contained in her distance, high, serene, supreme.

She was so incredibly beautiful, and he ached for her. Wanted her. Intensely. Desperately. Shockingly.

He wanted to pull her into his arms and plant hot kisses all over her gorgeous face. Wanted to coax a smile from her, trace his tongue along that brilliant mouth.

She was so strong, so resolute, so damn determined not to let anyone see what lurked beneath—fear, longing, vulnerability. She was so hauntingly vulnerable, but it took an observant eye to see it past her tall stature, enigmatic dark eyes, and proud chin.

She'd been brave for so long. She didn't know how to put down her shield and look around to see that she was safe. She needed to accept herself and that hot fire of passion she struggled so hard to deny.

Why? Why did she fight so hard to keep from being who she was?

“We're going to the Honeysuckle Café,” she said. “They serve out-of-this-world veggies, and if you're so inclined, the chicken-fried steak is their best seller.”

“Okay.” He walked around to the passenger side door. “Not a date.”

“I do have to warn you about one thing,” she said as they climbed into the car.

“What's that?”

“The Honeysuckle Café is inside Timeless Treasures, my parents' antiques store.”

“You're taking me to meet the parents? A bit soon, isn't it?” he teased. “This is our first date, after all.”

She gave him a don't-go-there-or-I'll-put-you-out-of-the-car stare. “It's not a date and if you're going to insist on calling it a date I'm not leaving the driveway.”

“Okay.”

“Just FYI, Dad's a huge baseball nut. He was over the moon when my sisters married major league play
ers. And he'll talk your ear off about it. He and his brothers played minor league ball when they were young.”

“I love talking about baseball.”

“We're here,” she announced a couple of minutes later, parking at the curb outside a converted Victorian house on Main Street.

Kasha led him into the antiques shop. Chimes tinkled as the door opened and closed, and they walked into a whoosh of scent—lavender mixed with the yellowed smell of old books, mixed with the tint of oil paintings, mixed with sweet earthiness of caramelized onions—and quaint vintageness—ornate highboys and beaded purses; lace tablecloths and spindly-legged chairs; gaudy glass jewelry and colorful cigar boxes; butter churns and copper kettles; ostrich feathers poking from tall wicker baskets, ruffling in the air of the overhead ceiling fan; a gold-framed movie poster from
Gone with the Wind
(Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn) covering part of a side wall. Frank Sinatra on a record player singing “I've Got You Under My Skin.”

A middle-aged man and woman were standing behind the checkout counter in the middle of a smooch. The man's arms were around the woman's waist, and she was looking up at him as if he was the center of the universe, apparently unconcerned whether anyone caught them in a romantic moment or not.

Axel smiled. The couple reminded him of his parents, many wedding anniversaries marked, and still flagrantly in love.

“Mom, Dad,” Kasha said. “This is Axel Richmond. Axel, these amorous folks are my parents, Dan and Maggie Carlyle.”

Grinning sheepishly, the older couple broke apart and turned to face them.

“Honey, Axel Richmond is the star pitcher for the Gunslingers. I know who he is,” Kasha's father said. He wore a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of faded jeans.

Maggie Carlyle's cheeks pinked and she pushed back a strand of blond hair lightly tinged with gray from her forehead, offered him a beaming smile.

“Axel.” Maggie Carlyle extended a hand. “Welcome to Timeless Treasures.”

“Pleasure.” He shook first Maggie's hand and then Dan's. “Always nice to meet a fellow ballplayer, sir.”

Dan waved a dismissive hand, but he grinned like a boy. “Nah, I only played bush league ball. You're the real deal.”

“Baseball is baseball,” Axel said. “It's all for the love of the game.”

“You got that right!” Dan bobbed his head as if Axel had said something profound.

“It's his deepest passion.” Maggie patted her husband's chest and leaned against his side.

“You're my deepest passion,” Dan corrected, dropping a kiss on his wife's upturned face. “But baseball is a close second.”

“Almost upstaged by a white ball with red stitches.” Maggie laughed and hugged her husband hard. “At least you're honest.”

Axel glanced up to the open balcony of the second story, where books abounded. Along the balcony railing stretched a lethal-looking calico cat, her eyes narrowed to snooty slits, tail swishing rhythmically. “Um . . . y'all, I think that cat is about—”

Without looking up, everyone simultaneously jumped back. A second later the cat hit the counter,
swung her head around, and looked disappointed that she hadn't startled anyone. Twitching her tail, the calico strolled down the length of the counter before dropping to the floor, and eeling around Kasha's legs.

Kasha bent to pick the cat up. “You're an ornery little puss, aren't you, darling?” she cooed, and scratched the calico under the chin. The cat purred loudly. Kasha's face softened as she stroked the kitty.

“This is Callie,” she explained. “My sister Suki saved her from Hurricane Sandy when she was going to school at NYU. Now Callie is the store mascot.”

“A scary mascot.” Axel eyed the railing where the calico had been sitting moments before.

“The vet says she suffers from PTSD, and that's why she drops down off the balcony onto people. It makes her feel secure and in control.”

“Uh-huh.” Axel didn't know about that diagnosis. To his way of thinking, the calico was in primal stalk mode, and scaring people was fun for her, but what did he know about cats?

“We were headed to the Honeysuckle for lunch,” Kasha told her parents. She put Callie down on the floor and dusted her palms against her hips.

“Enjoy your lunch,” Maggie said. “Nice meeting you, Axel. I hope we'll be seeing more of you.”

“Count on it,” he said, and his heart rejoiced when he saw a tiny smile edge up the corners of Kasha's mouth, and realized that he felt better about the future than he had in a long time.

“His shoulder rotation improved by a full millimeter. That means he'll be staying at Rowdy's ranch for two more weeks.” Kasha beamed.

“Congratulations!” Maggie hugged her daughter. “Your new career has sprouted wings. I'm so proud of you.”

“And congrats to you too.” Dan slapped Axel on the back. “You'll be back on the mound before you know it. Our Kasha is a miracle worker.”

Axel met Kasha's eyes. “She's unlike any therapist I've ever encountered.”

She didn't blush at the praise, or even offer up a smile. She stood calm, serene, full of positive self-esteem. She accepted her talent without ego. She knew who she was. He loved that about her.

“The Honeysuckle closes for lunch at two-thirty, and it's almost two now.” Kasha motioned in the direction of the delicious smells.

He turned to follow her, and as he did, Axel saw the elder Carlyles draw closer and smile into each other's faces as if watching the sun come up on the best day of their lives.

His parents were equally soppy in their mature love, and he wondered if he would ever have that. The only person he'd ever loved completely, and unconditionally, without doubt, hesitation, or reservation, was Dylan.

At the thought of his son, sadness squeezed his chest and he momentarily closed his eyes. He'd been thinking of Dylan a lot lately, and it hurt. More than he wanted to admit. Without the long, punishing workouts to keep his mind occupied, he had too much time for dark thoughts.

“Axel?” Kasha asked, her voice soft and low.

He opened his eyes, stared into her intense gaze.

“Are you all right?”

He smiled, easy but totally manufactured. “Sure.”

“Pain?”

“Nothing I can't handle.”

“Do you want to go back to the ranch?”

“No way. I've been looking forward to getting
out.” Screw his demons. He felt like a prisoner out on work release, privileged to just be here.

“Okay.” She hesitated.

His gilded, brushed-on smile wasn't fooling her for a second, but she let it go and opened the interior door of Timeless Treasures that led into the Honeysuckle Café. She stood in the orange glow of the sunshine spilling in through the sparkling clean window, the light cutting through the thin material of her white shirt, giving him a peekaboo view of her excellent body.

“Come on,” she prodded, having no clue that he was so stunned by her beauty that his legs had turned to cement.

She didn't wait for someone to seat them. Instead, she headed for a wooden bench booth in the corner. “Permanently reserved for members of the Carlyle clan as long as it's not already taken,” she told him. “Perks of Mom being best friends with the owner.”

Red and white checkered tablecloth on the table, drinks served in Mason jars. Wurlitzer in the corner playing a Hank Williams tune. Red Coca-Cola napkin dispenser. The menu written on a chalkboard, comfort food with a gourmet twist: chicken-fried steak with chipotle cream gravy, mac and cheese with guanciale, buffalo sliders, and slimmed-down soul food.

Creative and yet appealingly ordinary.

A thirty-something waitress hurried over and greeted Kasha with a hug. It surprised Axel to see Kasha hug the waitress back. Kasha was normally so reserved he didn't think of her as much of a hugger. But here, she was in her milieu. Among family and friends.

He was the outsider.

“I know you want the veggie plate,” the waitress said to Kasha, and then turned to Axel and held out her hand. “Hi, I'm Venus.”

“Axel Richmond.”

“Honey,” Venus said. “No need for introductions. Everyone in Stardust knows who you are. We're a Gunslingers town. Sorry to hear about your injury.”

Axel rotated his right shoulder. “It's much better now. Thanks to Kasha.”

“Isn't she an angel?” Venus gushed. “She got my granddaddy up walking again after he broke his hip. Doctor said he would be bedridden for the rest of his life, but Kasha would have none of it. Let me tell you, you could have knocked old Doc Prescott over with a feather when Granddaddy walked into his office under his own steam.”

Axel met Kasha's gaze. “She is something.”

Kasha's cheeks flushed and she quickly glanced away.

“What'll you have?” Venus asked Axel.

“I'll have the veggie plate as well.”

“Good choice. It's awesome. Course everything at the Honeysuckle is awesome.”

“You can eat meat if you want,” Kasha said. “I won't judge.”

“Veggie plate,” Axel said, not taking his eyes off Kasha. He'd eat dirt if he thought it would impress her.

“It comes with lentils for protein,” Venus said. “I'll go put your order in and bring you some water. Anything else to drink?”

“Water's fine,” Axel confirmed.

When Venus was out of earshot, Axel said, “She thinks you hung the moon and the stars, and you know what?”

“What?”

“I agree.”

“Stop it.” Kasha rolled her eyes.

“I mean it.”

“You're flirting.”

“I'm paying you a compliment.”

“You're messing with my head.”

“Or you could try this on for size. ‘Thank you, Axel.'
”

“Don't make me regret this lunch,” she said.

Even though this wasn't a date, Axel couldn't help feeling that electrical thrill of a first date was going really, really well.

Yo Richmond. See those hot coals in your hand? You're juggling fire. If you don't want her to quit as your therapist, knock it off.

He stared at her.

She stared back, totally badass.

What should he do? (A) Stop coming on to her because things couldn't end well. (B) Say screw it, and just do what he'd wanted to do since the day he met her, and kiss her like tomorrow would never come. (C) Slow down, but hang in there because the best things in life were worth waiting for?

C. Definitely C.

Their food arrived. Venus arranged it on the table in front of them and gaily said, “Bon appétit,” and off she went.

Axel looked across the table at Kasha and knew he would always remember this moment. She was surrounded by plump vegetables: roasted red bell peppers and butter-yellow corn on the cob, purple cabbage, and broccoli sautéed with olive oil and garlic; her fork clinking softly against the bone white
plate, an expression of foodie-in-heaven bliss on her face.