Saving Maverick (4 page)

“Season tickets,” Kelsey said.

“Okay, but that was going to be part of the deal anyway . . .”

“
For life.” She set down her wine glass and walked toward the hallway leading to the ladies' room. She looked over her shoulder, grinned, and said, “To the Seattle Authority. They're my favorite team.”

“Hey, Mav. Glad to see you made it. Wasn't sure—” Brock Cameron, the freshly signed rookie shortstop spoke to Maverick as he walked up to his teammates already at the charity event.

“You wish,” Maverick interrupted. “Someone's got to keep the ball girls happy.” Mav held up two fingers to the bartender. “Whiskey, straight up.”

Off to Luke's side, Syndi, Luke's latest, piped in. “Hi, Maverick.” Her voice reminded him of a twelve-year-old girl's, always so damn high. Mav was instantly annoyed each time she spoke to him. The worst part was, she was only using his buddy to grab onto someone bigger in the league. Someone with a healthier bank account and probably Hollywood connections.

Maverick decided a long time ago poaching his teammates' women wasn't worth the drama, no matter the bra size. Besides, in his experience the larger the cup size, the lower the I.Q., and he was past the age where he could put up with endless chatter about what the Kardashians were wearing this week or who they were dating or divorcing.

Sidestepping Syndi's initial move to engage him, Maverick nodded at her and turned back to the bar. He grabbed his whiskey and tossed it back. Damn, only top shelf for T.S. Maybe this owner wouldn't be such a straight-laced prick like the previous one.

He'd had his fill of the former owner, Billy Jack McGraw. The clueless owner only saw his players as cattle, not talent. Always looking for the brass ring over ability and buying out ridiculous contracts of players beyond their prime, to cash in on the name recognition.

When
they lost the division, the former owner wanted out. Enter Thomas Scott, who despite his harebrained idea to set up the team in Pineville, Idaho, actually cared that the team had a winning season, not just a moneymaking one.

T.S. had the money all right, and he wanted the trophy. From what he'd heard, T.S. had played college ball but never made it to the big leagues. Maverick had to hand it to the guy, his love for the game shone through at the players' meeting when he'd introduced himself. Of course that was before he dropped the bomb that he gained the league's okay to move the club. Now the team was split on whether the new owner was a step up from crazy Billy Jack McGraw or a fucking genius.

Currently, the hometown golden boy in question was working hard on impressing the knockout Maverick had slammed eyes with moments ago. Something about her obvious disinterest nagged him. But he also saw a flash of challenge in her eyes. Maybe it was interest. Hell, maybe he was hoping it was.

It had always been easy for Maverick to woo women. He'd perfected his approach in college and found a slow smile and leisurely body check was his key to an instant introduction. Not this one though. Glancing again at the woman who was occupying all of his thoughts, he wondered if she realized how her ice queen persona was a turn-on.

She seemed above noticing him when he'd walked into the room, and only paused on him because he made it pretty clear where his thoughts were. Or so he thought. Damn, he loved a challenge and it had been a long time since he'd had that instant physical reaction to a woman.

Now was a hell of a time to be battling a hard-on, in the midst of a charity function full of the town's politicos and muckety-mucks. He shifted a bit, adjusting himself, and caught a
glimpse
of Syndi out of the corner of his eye. He sensed the heat of the ball girl's stare burning his back. Shit. He was so tired of these groupies.

There was a time he reveled in the nonstop attention from women, and not once did he think he'd feel any different— until the fiasco in Reno with the stripper he hooked up with while trying to resurrect his libido.

Embarrassed was too tame a word for what he felt, and to keep his inability to perform a secret he'd paid her off. His sex life and his pitching hadn't been the same since losing the championship, but maybe one of them was showing signs of life again.

He tried catching the dark-haired beauty's eye again as he strolled through the room away from the buffet. Not a true redhead, her dark auburn hair was swept to one side. Inexplicably, he itched to get his hands in its masses. Her curvy body gave him all sorts of naughty ideas. He rarely went for the waif look that others favored and this woman conjured nothing but thoughts of tangled sheets and heated kisses.

He watched as she raised her wine glass and gestured to the door while she responded to something T.S. had said. Damn, he wanted to be on the receiving end of all that passion. Her curves, encased in a dark green business suit, were more of a turn-on to him than the other women in the room wearing tight-fitting minis and blinged-out halter tops.

She was deep in conversation with T.S., so he thought better of pursuing her, for now. In the past he'd always acted before he thought, and the video he currently starred in proved how much he needed to start thinking before he acted and ended up on the wrong side of public opinion—again.

He
placed his untouched food down and disengaged himself from the argument the mayor and some other guy were having about the new instant play rule and made his way to the windows overlooking Lake Coeur d'Alene.

He considered his options on how to approach T.S. and the mystery woman he was chatting up. Was she an acquaintance, girlfriend, or maybe a member of the city council here to schmooze him and the players? Whichever, he had to find out before the evening ended.

Maverick focused on the sun setting on the lake. The entire area was glowing in pinks and oranges. No sign of the day's earlier storm present. Couples strolled on the floating boardwalk in no particular hurry.

He envied them and took in the moment. The constant noise and self-doubt spinning like an out-of-control record in his head now muted.

And for the first time in a long time Maverick felt calm. Maybe this town and its simpler life would ground him, get him back to the place he needed to be. At the top of his game and away from all the distractions of parties every night and the groupies who never gave up in their pursuit of an athlete to bed.

He glanced a bit farther out and noticed the water mirroring the boats still cruising lazily, splashing their profiles across the surface. Yeah, he could probably get used to this.

Maverick heard a laugh from across the crowded space and turned back toward the main room. Somehow he knew it was her. A throaty, come-and-get-me laugh. It grabbed him around his cock and held on. And like that, he was hard again.

What was it about this woman that his body had such an instant reaction to? He hadn't even talked to her. Touched her. He needed to find out—and fast, before he embarrassed himself in front of everyone.

He
watched as she walked away from T.S. She tossed the team owner a look over her shoulder that could have been an invitation, but it could have been a “so there, take that” exit. He was hoping it was the latter.

Screw it. He was not going to let this opportunity get away from him. But the last thing he needed to add to his long list of problems was hitting on the owner's girlfriend.

Kelsey thought she could make a smooth exit after her last comment to T.S., but no, luck was not on her side tonight. He caught up with her within a few steps from the exit and called her name. She stopped and when she turned around it wasn't T.S. she noticed, even though he was within touching distance. It was Maverick Jansen. And he seemed to be making a beeline for her.

She glanced around the room to see if she missed something. Maybe everyone was looking at her for some unknown reason.

No. Everyone else seemed focused on their own conversations. Except the short, stacked blonde at the bar who only had eyes for Maverick. She didn't take her eyes off him as he made his way toward Kelsey. An ex, maybe?

T.S. began speaking to her, but she didn't hear a word he said. The star pitcher had almost reached them. His intense gaze zeroed in on her, daring her to look away.

His broad shoulders and arms were well defined in his tailored suit. Just enough muscle to make a woman crave to be held in them. His large tapered hands were perfect for his chosen profession. It made her wonder what else they could do.

A
flutter in her breast surprised her. A few sultry glances were not going to make her crumble. So she took the coward's way out. She told T.S. she'd be right back and made a beeline for the ladies' room.

Chapter 4

Maverick noticed the slick way the beauty in green avoided him. He knew enough about women to know when one found him appealing. Right now he had a burning desire for a woman he'd yet to speak to and it felt—right. His baser instincts led him toward her and he didn't care if everyone in the room knew what his intentions were.

He reached T.S.'s side, played up his public persona, and gave his new boss a hearty backslap and handshake.

A photographer appeared out of the shadows and snapped a photo. The perfect scene: owner and player together—united. It couldn't have been planned better if they tried. The picture was sure to be on whatever website the paparazzo had a current contract with, and hopefully this time the headlines would be kind.

“So, boss, thanks again for inviting me tonight. I appreciate your confidence in me.” Maverick spoke loud enough to ensure that those around them could hear the exchange.

But T.S. was no pushover and Maverick could tell by the hard and penetrating stare he received from him, T.S. knew exactly what he was up to. Forgiveness for the potential career-ending video making the rounds and getting off the disabled list. More importantly, back on the mound for the first game of the regular season.

“Maverick, I have some things to discuss with you, but I think my office is a better venue. Not sure if a charity event where everyone has a smartphone is the right place to talk . . . strategy.”

Mav
kept his smile in place while inside his guts began to churn. He nodded and released T.S.'s hand. In a practiced move, he turned his attention to the photographer, and offered him a few words to send him on his way.

“I can assure you, Mr. Scott, I'll make it right with you, the team, and the league.”

“And the community? The ones that watched as one of the best USBL players lost it over moving to their city? What do you say to them?”

Maverick was determined to show T.S. the hothead he saw in the video was not the man standing in front of him or the player he could be—and would be again—on the diamond come March thirty-first.

T.S. lowered his voice. “How do you propose we fix that problem, Jansen? Because they're the ones that buy the tickets.” He motioned to the guests in the room. “Without them you can bet the media will seize on it all season long. They're dogs with a goddamn bone when it comes to crap like this.”

T.S. shifted an inch closer to him, maintaining a relaxed look on his face, but his tone was anything but friendly. Just for Maverick's ears. “I need you to think long and hard how you're going to help the Outlaws on the field—and off.”

“I'm on board with anything that needs to be done to correct my screwup. I promise you, T.S., that video or anything like it will never happen again,” Maverick said.

“And the drinking?” T.S. asked.

“Temporary. I assure you. I can handle my liquor.”

Silence. He hated silence. His father always used it against him as a youth when he struggled to fill it with the words he thought his father wanted to hear.

If
he waivered in front of T.S. then he wasn't the man he knew he was. Maverick looked the owner in the eye. “All I have is my word, and with all due respect, you can take it or let me out of my contract now.”

T.S. didn't blink at the challenge. He placed his hand on Mav's shoulder. “Prove it. Prove you're worth the millions I'm paying you and get us over .500 for the season and maybe throw a no-hitter while you're at it. If you do, I'll frame your ugly mug over my desk and invite Sports Weekly in to do a cover story.”

Maverick took the deepest breath of his life and let it back out in a rush. No pressure, just do the impossible. In one season. “Done.”

“I'm betting on it, Maverick.” T.S. sounded hopeful and pissed all at the same time.

“Thanks for your support, sir. I won't let you down.” Maverick relaxed his too-tight neck and shoulders and smiled in relief.

“Cut the ‘sir' crap. I'm not much older than you.”

“Right.” Maverick chuckled and looked around to see if the object of his desire had returned. She hadn't, so he took the moment to find out her story. “I'll let you get back to your girlfriend. I didn't want to interrupt your evening with shop talk.”

“Girlfriend?” T.S.'s brow knitted. “Oh, you mean Kelsey? We're not involved, romantically. She's like a sister to me. We grew up together right here in Pineville. She's ah, here to support me and the team.”

Maverick felt a surge of heat bloom in his chest and travel to the back of his neck. He rubbed the area in hopes T.S. wouldn't notice his reaction at the news. He wanted to ask a hundred more questions about her. But T.S. wasn't stupid and would know the direction of his
thoughts
if he said anything more. So he didn't. He also didn't want T.S. thinking he was a horny ballplayer out to score, even if in this case he was.

“All right, well, thanks again for your time.” They shook hands. T.S. would back him, as long as he didn't screw up anything else.

“My secretary will be in touch with an appointment time. Enjoy your evening, Maverick, and maybe make it an early one, hmmm?”