Love of the Game (12 page)

He was so busy watching her eat that he forgot his own meal.

“Is something wrong with your food?” she asked.

“No. It's terrific.” He paused, swallowed. “Just like you.”

“Axel,” she chided. “You simply can't keep saying things like that.”

“Why not? It's true.”

“It's flirty. We talked about this.”

“No it's not. Flirty is silly, teasing. I am serious. You are terrific.”

“I'm your therapist.”

“Still terrific.”

“We can't . . . this isn't . . .”

“What?”

She dabbed her mouth with a napkin, that plump, raspberry mouth that made his mouth water. “I should never have come out with you. We didn't call this a date, but it's a date and . . .” She put down her fork. “Here we are. Being datey.”

“At the Honeysuckle Café.”

“Eating a vegetable plate,” she said. “You're eating a vegetable plate to please me.”

“So what? Nothing wrong with that.”

“It's unethical for me to have a relationship with you,” she said a bit primly.

“I'm not talking about a relationship. I'm simply saying I admire you. Don't make a bigger thing of this than it is.”

She leaned back against her chair, eyed him uneasily, and took a sip of water.

He wished he could say what was really on his
mind.
I like you. I think you're special. I want you. Maybe when I'm healed and you're no longer my therapist we could . . .

But he knew what would happen if he pushed. She wasn't a fan of pushing. And even once he was healed, he might end up traded to another team on the other side of the country. It was his life's ambition to play for the Yankees. What if all his dreams came true, and he got what he wanted? He'd have to leave Texas, and he knew for a fact that long distance relationships just didn't work. He'd tried it and failed more than once.

Getting ahead of yourself, buddy. Way, way ahead.

Nothing might ever happen between him and Kasha. Between him and the Yankees. Hell, even between him and a healthy shoulder. She was right. He had to stop with the compliments and the flirting and the lusting. Although there were no guarantees he could stop that last one. He had no right to push. He had nothing to offer her.

Yet.

Unnerved by his thoughts, Axel clenched his fork, tension tightening his jaw muscles, and he draggled in a covert inhale to steady the clipped rhythm of his exasperated heart.

He didn't move. Didn't speak.

She must have seen it in his eyes. Somehow, she knew what he was thinking, sensed his frustration. Her dark eyes turned darker still until they were almost black underneath the glow of the cutesy red lanterns dangling overhead. She reached out a hand as if she were going to touch him, but stopped midway across the table.

Axel sat frozen, his gaze fixed on hers, unable to exhale.

She dropped her hand to the breadbasket, picked up a piece of cornbread, and examined it as if that was what she'd been angling for all along.

His stomach flopped. Was he imagining her feelings for him? Was he being a fool? Axel didn't fall head over heels very often. But he was seriously afraid that's what was happening. But what if she didn't feel the same way.

Ah shit.

“Sister!” a voice called out.

At the same moment, Kasha and Axel looked over to see a pretty red-haired, pregnant woman about their same age walk over. Kasha stood up and hugged her sister, then waved her into the booth and perched lithely on the outer edge of the seat as if she were an elegant eagle about to take flight.

“Axel,” Kasha said. “This is my sister Jodi.”

“Jake's wife.” Axel reached over the table to shake Jodi's hand. “We met briefly once at the stadium.”

“Yes, I remember. Before your shoulder injury.”

They made small talk for a while and then Jodi said, “What are your plans for Memorial Day, Axel?”

Axel shrugged, grinned at Kasha. “My therapist tells me I'm supposed to take it easy.”

“All by your lonesome?” Jodi pretended to pout.

“Looks like it.”

“Well,” Jodi said good-naturedly. “Kasha may be able to do all the find-yourself Zen stuff, but for us extroverts it's called boredom.”

“Oh, I don't know about that.” Axel watched Kasha's face. “I think she's onto something. She certainly got my attention.”

Was it his imagination or was a smile twitching at Kasha's lips?

“Be that as it may,” Jodi said. “You are officially invited to the annual Carlyle Memorial Day bash at Mom's request. We hope you'll come. Please say yes. Come for Saturday, Sunday, Monday, or all three. We're short of guys since Jake and Rowdy will be at the stadium.”

“You party for three days?” he asked.

“It's the Carlyle way,” Jodi said.

Kasha's smile winked out. She drilled a hole through him, moved her head imperceptibly. Message received. She didn't want him at the party.

“We're having therapy session six days a week,” Axel said. “So Saturday's out. But I'd love to come over on Sunday.”

Something bumped against his shin, sharp and insistent. Kasha was kicking him.

“Um,” she said. “Don't you have other plans?”

“Nope,” Axel said feigning innocence. “None at all.”

Another swift kick. Ouch. If stares were daggers, he'd be bleeding from every orifice.

He smiled even wider at Jodi, and sent Kasha a kick-all-you-want-I-gotcha look. “Tell me what time to be there, and what I should bring?”

“H
ere's what you're going to do,” Kasha said to Axel when they were back in her Prius headed for the ranch. “You're going to call my mother, thank her for inviting you to the party, but tell her that you can't make it.”

“Nope.”

Kasha swung her head around to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“Not canceling,” he said amicably.

“Why not?”

“For one thing it's rude.”

“No it's not. Tell her you forgot you had something else to do.”

“But I don't.”

“Pretend.”

“You mean lie?”

Kasha blew out an exasperated breath. He was right about that. “Please,” she said, trying a different tack. “Do it for me.”

“But I want to go to the party.” His voice was light, but it was laced with deeper meaning.

She cast another glance over at him. He had on sunglasses and she couldn't read his eyes. “You can't go.”

“Sure I can. I was invited.”

“But I will be there. With Emma.”

“How can you take Emma with you when you haven't told your parents about her?”

“I will,” she said, gripping the steering wheel tighter and wondering why she'd taken him to lunch at the Honeysuckle. She should have expected her family would invite him to the party.

“So why can't I come too?” he asked. “I'm stuck at the ranch all weekend with nothing to do, and you keep pestering me to relax and have fun, but the minute I do, splat, you squash it.”

“All right. Fine. Come to the party.” Under her breath she muttered, “Maybe I'll skip it.”

He didn't say a word, just kept looking at her with kind, understanding eyes, and that freaked her out a little.

“What?” she asked, hunching forward, then catching what she was doing and forcing herself to sit up tall, shoulders back and down.

“What, what?”

“Why do you keep staring at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I'm a delicate flower.”

“Is that what I was doing?”

“Yes, and it's annoying.” She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn't seem to contain her feelings.

And that bothered the hell out of her.

She did some yoga breathing, and it helped. Marginally. But marginally was better than nothing. When she glanced over, Axel was still studying her.

Then he surprised her completely by reaching over the seat to take her hand, but what surprised her even more was she did not pull away. “I could help you. Be a buffer.”

“I don't need a buffer.” Her eye twitched. Okay, yeah, maybe she was fooling herself.

“Who better than an objective third party? I'd be like an umpire.”

“No need for a referee. Everything is going to be fine,” she said firmly. Maybe if she said it enough times it would be true.

“Emma's good with strangers then? And crowds?”

Kasha didn't know. “I'd rather not talk about it right now.”

“Just tell me you've got a plan in case things aren't fine. Kids—and I say this knowing Emma is mentally an eight-year-old—are notoriously unpredictable.”

He was freaking her out. Could it really be that hard? Bringing Emma to the party?

She would ask Molly Banks for advice. Emma's foster mother would know best how to handle her. She didn't need Axel's two cents' worth, and she moved her hand away.

“You don't have a battle plan.” He made a noise of disapproval, halfway between a grunt and a groan, and it alarmed her that his disapproval bothered her “Are you nuts?”

“I'm confident I will be able to handle any bumps in the road.” She wasn't, but he didn't need to know that.

“Emma's not just a trophy you can trot out and show off. She's a real person, with feelings, flaws, and faults like anybody else.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Seriously, was it any of his business? “Why do you care?”

“Because,” he said, “I like you, and I want this to go well for you and Emma.”

“I'm your therapist, not your friend.”

“Um-huh.” He looked smug.

“Um-huh what?” She meant to sound churlish, but instead it came out as insecure. Dammit!

“Like it or not,” he gloated, “we've got something more than therapist/patient going on here.”

“We do not!” she denied, hearing the panic in her voice, feeling a band of heat flare up the back of her neck. She didn't dare look at him.

The air inside the Prius was so thick with sexual tension it was hard to think.

“I'm honestly just thinking about Emma,” he said. “When Dylan got to the point where he couldn't walk and had to be in a wheelchair . . . well, let's just say some kids can be cruel.”

“Can we drop it, please?”

“What if Emma panics when she's faced with sudden attention from strangers?” Axel asked. “What if she gets scared?”

“I'll take her into another room and talk her down. I don't see why I need a battle plan to take a handicapped young woman to a Memorial Day party. You're overthinking it.”

“You haven't been around kids much.” He said it as a statement, not a question, and he was right. “I see disaster written all over this.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

“It's not against you, I just know how with kids a happy day can quickly go in the opposite direction.”

“Good grief, Richmond. I had no idea you were such a worrywart.”

“And I didn't know you didn't have the sense to step out of the way of an oncoming train.”

“It's not going to be that bad.”

“I hope you're right.

“Emma is sweet and beautiful and amazing and she's my sister.”

“And she's used to having your undivided attention
and you're taking her to a party where she doesn't know anyone, and—”

“I get the picture.” Kasha winced. “Now get out.”

“What?” He blinked.

“We're here. Get out.” She pointed at the passenger side door.

He glanced at his watch. “It's only three-thirty. We're not going to finish our session?”

She paused, her hand on the shifter, torn between her job and wanting to get away from him and the confounded sexual tension. Knowing that he was right about Emma. “We'll make up the time tomorrow. I'll be back bright and early. Go lie in the hammock and read a book.”

“Aren't you afraid I'll get out the rebounder and sling balls around?”

“You won't. You got a good report from Dr. Harrison. You're not dumb enough to mess that up.”

“You trust me.” He grinned his patented heart-melting grin. “I'm touched.”

“You're still not coming to the party.”

“You sure? I might get bored enough to hunt down the rebounder from where you hid it. Or worse, drive to the Little League field and see if they'll let me coach.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Not if I had something better to do.” He raked a gaze over her body. He was still sitting in the seat, not getting out.

Kasha groaned, rested her head on the steering wheel. “Okay fine, you can come to the party.”

“Woot.” He pumped a fist.

“Don't look so smug. You got permission by coercion.”

“I never needed your permission. I was invited.”

“Too bad that I have to show up.”

“You don't want to go?”

“My parents throw a massive party every single holiday, and they expect all of us girls to be there if we can. They love to say that life is too short not to celebrate whenever you can. Honestly, it's a little exhausting.”

“I'm an extrovert, sounds like heaven to me.”

Kasha raised her chin. “But I'm not complaining. I've got the best parents in the world.”

“The second time around.”

Kasha flinched, ignored that. “Three days of nonstop festivities. Backyard barbecue, Mom makes these amazing apple fritters, party favors, games, toasts, and on Memorial Day itself, a picnic at the Stardust Veterans Memorial Park.”

“How do they afford it?”

“Oh, everyone who comes to the party brings something, and/or contributes money. Sometimes my folks bring in more than they spend, but they just put the money toward the next party.”

“And you're going to walk Emma into this hubbub without a plan?”

“Will you let it go? It's my deal.”

“You're a planner, Kasha. Why haven't you planned for this? Why haven't you told your folks about Emma? Why didn't you tell them the minute you found out about her?”

She'd been wrestling with the same questions, unsure of why she was so reluctant.

“I don't know.”

“I do.”

She stared at him. “Oh yeah?”

“You wanted something that was all yours just for a little while. Your family, while fantastic, are a bit intrusive, and you needed space and distance to sort things out.”

She hadn't realized it until he said it, but it was true. “Maybe.”

“A secret sister all your own.”

Her only living blood kin.

“But then the secret scared you, and you felt bad for keeping quiet, but it was hard for you to share your news because it made you feel too much, and out of control, and there's nothing you hate more than being out of control.”

“Wow.” Okay. It was as if he'd peeled off the top of her head and crawled right down into her brain.

“We have been seeing a lot of each other,” he explained. “What I can't figure out is why you're so scared of losing control.”

That was the real secret, wasn't it? The truth about what had happened to her biological parents, the terrible catalyst for every bad thing that had happened in her life.

And she wasn't about to tell him. Not now anyway. Not as long as he was her patient. It was too much sharing. Too intimate. Too personal.

Because right now, with the way he was looking at her full of understanding and insight, all she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms, and confess everything.

God, why had she gone to lunch with him? She'd known it was a mistake and she'd done it anyway. What was wrong with her?

“Get out of the car.” Her voice came out like a huff of helium, high and tight.

He clicked his tongue, his eyes full of roguish charm. “Bossy woman. What in the hell am I going to do with you?”

Make love to me.

The unexpected thought jolted her, then filled her with alarm. No! No! She believed she'd gotten that destructive impulse under control, but here it was, stronger than ever.

Why was her treacherous subconscious trying to undo her? Did she want to get fired? Was she losing touch with reality? Why was she fantasizing about a man who was on his way out of her life? Warning. Danger ahead. Stop. Turn back.

“Please,” she said, on a desperate whisper. “Get out of the car.”

And finally, thankfully, he did.