No One Like You (2 page)

“We’re talking you into staying.”

She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m also smart, practical, and tend to be too serious, according to my family,” he told her. “I’m an animal lover and a decent ballplayer.”

Decent ballplayer?
She’d Googled him before she applied for the job. Statistics showed he ranked among the best. He was a gifted athlete.

She needed to come clean with him. “I lied on my résumé,” she confessed. She figured her admission would put him off.

“I know,” he surprised her by saying. “I checked your previous employers and references. If you worked where you said you did, you were invisible.”

“Why did you let me slide?” she asked, confused.

He shrugged. “I’m honestly not sure. I trust my dogs’ instincts. Atlas is an excellent judge of character. He wouldn’t let anyone in the cottage who didn’t belong. He joined you on the sofa during your first interview and you didn’t freak out. I had one applicant leave the house screaming.”

“He is rather large.”

“Large, but harmless,” Ry assured her. “He’s still growing. He’s just two years old.”

Still growing
. Her heart nearly stopped.

“The job is only for eight weeks. It starts a week before spring training and ends a week after,” he reminded her. “I have a permanent assistant in Richmond. She’s just gotten married. I gave her time off for an extended honeymoon in Cancun.”

The timing is ideal,
Beth thought. Free of her previous obligations, she didn’t want to stay in one place too long. She had a lot of country to explore. She wanted to lose herself in her travels. Returning home was not an option. She wouldn’t be missed.

“It’s a busy time for me,” Rylan continued. “I’ll have personal and professional obligations. I’ll need someone to keep me on track.”

Beth swallowed hard. Some days she lived chaos, all on her own. Could she keep his life and her own running smooth? That was to be seen. Organization could be challenging.

To her surprise, he took her silence as holding out for more money. “You’ll receive a salary and a household budget. You’ll have a business credit card for emergencies. Should you come up short for any reason, just let me know.”

The man was trusting. Perhaps overly so. She didn’t want to disappoint him. She quickly gave the job a final assessment. The pay was enticing—she’d make more money in eight weeks than she had made the previous year. The cash cushion would be nice—she could take a short vacation once she left town. She wouldn’t be forced to immediately seek another position.

She had one final question for him before she accepted. “You had far more qualified applicants. I couldn’t be your first choice. So why me, Rylan? Besides the fact your dog likes me.”

Because I’m not attracted to you.
He didn’t admit that to Beth; he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

Plain and simply put, she wasn’t his type. He didn’t have a lot of time to date, but when he did, he favored tall, slender, savvy blondes. The two other women he’d interviewed had turned him on. He didn’t need the distraction or the erection. No work would’ve gotten done.

Beth Avery had
quirky
written all over her. Her brown hair was curly and unruly. The tip of her nose turned up slightly. She pursed her lips a lot. She had a chin dimple. She couldn’t be more than five foot two.

Her style in clothes was mismatched. She’d shown up to her first interview wearing a lavender prairie flower print top, a flowing ankle-length green skirt, and white cowgirl boots with silver scrolling. Peace sign earrings had dangled from her ears, and a crocheted and beaded bracelet had wrapped her wrist.

Her amazing eyes had gotten her a second interview. Rain cast in color, the blue-gray reminded him of the Gulf of Mexico before a summer storm. He’d noticed that the hue changed with her mood. Blue dominated when she was relaxed. Gray indicated her frustration. Atlas had aggravated her greatly. Her eyes had turned gunmetal gray.

Ry was polite when he informed her, “I’m going on gut instinct alone in hiring you,” he admitted. “You seem nice, have an ability to adapt, and if you screw up, Atlas will let me know.”

“Atlas looks like a tattletale,” she agreed with a glance in the dog’s direction.

“I need someone immediately,” he added. “You’re standing before me. The job is yours if you want it.”

No hesitation. “I’ll take it.”

“How soon can you start?”

She glanced toward her PT Cruiser parked at the curb. “I travel light. I’m temporarily living out of my car.”

She lived out of her car?
That made him blink. He had no room to criticize her. He’d taken road trips in college. He’d lived free and easy until responsibility had forced him to grow up. Playing professional ball aged a man.

“I’ll grab my suitcases,” she said, cutting across the yard.

“I’ll help you.” He was right behind her. Atlas came, too.

“Will I get a ticket parked at the curb?” She cast a look over her shoulder. No other cars were on the street.

“I’ll get you a city parking sticker later today.” He saw the pained look on her face and guessed the reason. “There’s no charge.”

She released a breath. “I would’ve needed an advance on my pay otherwise.”

“You’re broke?” slipped out before he could stop himself.

Her lips thinned. “I’m on a tight budget.”

Before he could ask her any more questions, she jumped the dwarf Natal Plum hedge near the curb, and he was surprised she cleared it. He didn’t take her for athletic. He and Atlas hopped over it next. She circled to the rear of the vehicle, pulled a keyless remote from the side pocket of her shorts, and popped the hatchback.

He noticed her out-of-state license plate. She’d listed her permanent residence on her application as White Bear Lake, Minnesota, yet she had Missouri plates. A H
IKE
M
ICHIGAN
bumper sticker and Arizona flag decal trimmed her bumper. V
IRGINIA IS FOR
L
OVERS
and P
ROPERTY OF
I
OWA
, H
AWKEYE
S
TATE
stickers noted her travels. The lady was a nomad.

The pieces to her puzzle didn’t quite fit.

He was intrigued.

She pulled two suitcases from the Cruiser.

Rylan stepped back. He’d been so involved in reading her stickers, he nearly forgot his manners. He hung his T-shirt over his shoulder, and took the suitcases from her. Dingy gold hardware hinged the battered, scratched, and ancient brown leather. A man’s name was barely visible near one handle. Lou Vui.
Her father, brother? Husband?
He glanced at her left hand. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

The cases were surprisingly light. He had expected heavier. She would settle in quickly.

“I inherited my house from my grandparents,” he told her as they headed up the driveway. “Frank and Emma lived here for twenty years before they moved rural. The empty lots on both sides belong to me, too. The cottage has four bedrooms—two up, two down. You can have the connecting rooms on the first floor. Bedroom, full bath, and office. My dogs have the run of the place. Close your door for privacy. Atlas is known to twist a doorknob with his mouth. He’ll also paw and scratch to get your attention.” The Great Dane could be pushy and persistent.

They climbed the steps to the porch and entered through the double doors. The dogs followed them. The dachsies and Rue took to their plush corduroy dog beds in the living room and waited patiently. They had manners. Atlas, not so much. The big dog was bumping Beth from the back. He was hungry and hurrying her along. It was close to lunchtime, and he expected her to feed him.

Rylan noticed it with a wry smile and looked around the entryway. His home was his sanctuary. It was where he could exhale and hang out with his dogs. He never took the peace and quiet for granted. The floors were dark Florida pine, as was the staircase to the second floor. The walls were stark white. “This way,” he said, moving down the hallway.

He nudged open a door with his foot and set her suitcases inside. He was pragmatic and didn’t buy anything he didn’t need. Except his McLaren. The splurge came from bonus money when he’d been traded from the St. Louis Colonels to the Richmond Rogues. It was his dream vehicle. He also had a Range Rover with washable mats to haul his dogs. He kept it parked in the garage.

He glanced around the guest room and wondered if Beth would feel at home. He’d furnished the room with a queen sofa sleeper, but had no idea if it was comfortable. She would find out at bedtime. A mirrored dresser leaned against the wall and a yellow-cushioned fan back chair sat in one corner.

“There are a few hangers in the closet,” he told her. For those few clothes she might need to hang up. Again, that puzzled him. “The dresser once belonged to my sister Shaye. The drawers have scented liners. Smell like flowers.”

“Nice. I like flowers.”

“Sheets, a comforter, and two pillows are stored in the old seaman’s chest used as a bedside table.”

“No gold or treasure?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Shaye had it refurbished. It once belonged to my great-great Uncle Cletis. He was a commercial fisherman.”

“I like antiques and family history.” Beth smiled. For the first time. A soft smile while she scrutinized the dresser with the decorative carved mirror. It was old, and the bottom drawer was slightly warped. But at least it closed.

He went on to show her the bathroom situated between the bedroom and the office. Functional, but not fancy. He’d supplied a set of blue towels. Shaye had suggested pear shampoo, a neutral olive oil soap, and a natural sea sponge.

Rylan next entered the office. Atlas followed Beth in. She didn’t seem to notice that every step she took, the Dane tracked her. He didn’t let her out of his sight.

He had connected with her, Ry realized, although she had yet to bond with him. In time she would, he hoped. Rylan’s closest friends and his entire family found the dog likeable. But clumsy. Because of his size, Atlas didn’t get invited to many social functions.

Rylan turned to catch Beth’s reaction to the work area. She was completely engrossed by the setup. He’d chosen an L-shaped, space-saver desk. Roller chair. High-end technology. A big-screen TV hung on one wall. Television relaxed him. He had several staged throughout the house.

“Check out the desktop. My password is
Rogue
. You’ll find a file labeled Obligations. My baseball and hometown commitments should be self-explanatory. I’m hosting a late-afternoon picnic at my house this Saturday for family, a few close friends, and team members. E-mail invitations were sent. Sixty guests, give or take. All adults. You’ll need to put it together. Five days should be enough time.”

She gave a slight start, but was quick to recover. “Do you want updates as I make the arrangements?”

He shook his head. “Not necessary, unless you hit a snag.” As an afterthought, he added, “Contact Shaye Saunders should you need assistance. My sister is good at planning. She’s coordinated charity benefits and boardwalk events. Her phone number and e-mail address are in the computer file marked Family.”

“Appreciated.” Beth breathed easier.

“I have a main house line and a business iPhone,” he went on to say. “I prefer text over a call when I’m away from the house. I’m not a man to talk on the phone for any length of time.”

She nodded. “Text it is.” Her gaze lowered then, lingering a second too long on his bare chest. Her eyes were a soft blue.

He didn’t mind her looking at him as long as she wasn’t into him. He had no designs on her. He stretched, scratched his stomach, and wrapped up the meeting. “As far as feeding the dogs, choose a recipe from the Organic Canine Cookbook. The dogs like all the meals.” He turned then. “I need to get cleaned up. I’ll be back shortly.” He nearly tripped over Atlas on his way out. The Dane had dropped down beside Beth’s chair, still eyeing her every move.

Rylan took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. He planned to stick around long enough to get Beth through lunch. He didn’t care if the dogs got a bath or not, but food was a necessity. Especially for Atlas. He lived to eat.

Ry tossed his T-shirt in the clothes hamper, then dropped his board shorts and kicked off his flip-flops. He went into his bathroom, stepped into the shower, and set a hot, pulsing spray. Water sluiced and heated his skin. Loosened his muscles. He exhaled, giving thought to his afternoon. He had a lot to do.

A stop by the Rogues spring training facility was at the top of his list. He needed to meet with Jillian Cates—his sister-in-law, married to his older brother Aidan. She worked as the community liaison for the club, sponsoring and promoting events that brought fans and players together. Spring training was the ideal time for fan appreciation. She wanted to discuss upcoming activities with him.

Ry was team captain, not by player vote but by executive board decision. He had played for the St. Louis Colonels for twelve seasons and then been traded to the Richmond Rogues during their rebuilding year. At thirty-four, he was considered the old man. The average age of his teammates was twenty-five.

It wasn’t easy being leader to players who had their own agendas and believed their own press. He’d worked his ass off, earning their respect. It had taken an entire season for the team to mesh and become a cohesive unit.

They had finally hit their stride last fall during the race for the pennant. They’d landed a Wild Card slot in the National League East. Only to have the Atlanta Braves take the division championship. Rylan and the majority of players had stayed in Richmond during the off-season. They had watched film and honed skills. Built camaraderie. Focused on their future. A new season was upon them.

Those who hadn’t stayed over the winter had filtered into town slowly.