Thrown By Love (17 page)

Her hands were still trembling as she arranged the silverware. Making love with Scotty had plunged her into a relationship she was beginning to crave. She glanced out the window to the sparkling skyline in the distance, feeling that the city lights were lighting her from the inside, as though the atoms in her body had been rearranged in a pattern foreign and astonishing. If she never felt anything like it again, she’d always remember this moment and the man who had given it to her.

She pulled a bottle of chilled chablis from the wine fridge. Scotty came up behind her and brushed her hair away from her neck.

“Your friend has a very nice tub,” he said. “Worth exploring.” His kisses spread heat and fire in her belly. If the door buzzer hadn’t sounded, they’d never have gotten around to food.

The conversation they fell into as they ate felt guarded and strange after all that they’d shared of their bodies. She sensed he was trying as hard as she was to avoid topics that would spoil the evening, that could break the charmed spell cast around them.

After they finished eating, Scotty approached the telescope set up in a corner of the living room. He peered into it.

“One thing about Nebraska,” he said as he adjusted one of the knobs, “is you can see the night sky so much better.”

“There’s probably a lot that you can see better in Nebraska,” Chloe said. She perched on a stool near the telescope. Opened and closed her mouth to speak a couple of times before she finally said, “You and Alex were right about Fisher.” She was crossing another line and it felt freeing. She’d crossed so many in the past month, one more couldn’t possibly matter. “Mike Thomas looked into it. He’s following up, discreetly, with a few folks.”

Scotty raised his head from the eyepiece of the telescope. The warmth of his steady gaze melted into her, heating her blood and her body. But also soothing her, affirming that she’d made the right choice in telling him.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. Sorry that it’s true.”

At that moment he wasn’t a player. He was the man she knew she loved. The realization shocked her. She hadn’t been looking for love. And though she knew he liked having her in his bed and enjoyed her company, it likely didn’t go farther than that. If only there was a test kit, some sort of litmus strip you could hold against a man’s wrist and it would color, indicating level of interest or pointing to possibilities. But then again, maybe she didn’t really want to know. She’d heard the rumors of his popularity with women. She didn’t need rumors to confirm that—her own response to his charm and miraculous lovemaking was proof enough.

She might not know where she stood with him in matters of the heart, but she knew enough of his character to know she could talk with him about Fisher. There were few people she could confide in. She wanted to trust Scotty.

“I don’t know what Fisher is up to, but he’s not making decisions that anyone wanting to build a great team would be making. He’s bringing in players who don’t fit the team, players whose performances are clearly under par.” She looked at him. “You feel it, don’t you?”

He looked away, then back to her. “We all do.”

Well . . . she hadn’t imagined the other players discussing the GM and his choices, so Scotty’s words surprised her. At least
that
internal warning system had been on track.

“Charley has enough on his plate,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “He shouldn’t have to be worrying about what Fisher might do next. Nobody should.”

She stood and paced across the room a few times before dropping to the couch and leaning her head into her hands. She wanted to share more than just surface conversations with Scotty, wanted to melt away the boundaries that she’d erected in the beginning to keep him at a distance. But was it fair to burden him with her worries?

She lifted her head and dropped her hands. He was watching, his eyes curious and maybe a little guarded. But compassion was definitely in them as well.

What did she have to lose?

“With the council vote on the stadium funds looming, I can’t just fire Fisher. It could erode the council’s confidence in the team . . . and in me. I think he’s crazy enough to think that if he drives the value of the team down, devalues it in the public’s eyes, then he can force me to sell it.” It was a fear she should’ve talked over with Mike, but hadn’t. “What advantage there’d be to Fisher, I can only imagine.”

She leaned back. “You know, Helene Robison faced this when she owned the Cardinals. She was the first woman to own a major league team, did you know that?”

Scotty shook his head.

“Like me, she inherited her team. It was in 1913 or so. And
she
had a general manager she couldn’t trust.
She
had a stadium that was subpar. They tried to force her to sell. And yet she was the one who created Ladies Day at the Ballpark, who encouraged women to take an interest in the game, who made it okay for women to attend games unescorted.” Chloe let out a long breath. “I can only imagine what she had to put up with back then.”

Scotty crossed the room and stood near her. He was holding himself so rigid, the nerve in his jaw jumped.

“Tell me,” she said.

“I don’t want to tell you how to go about your business.”

“I could use a little help right about now,” she said. She meant it. She trusted him. He had a good sense for people; she’d known that from the beginning. “Tell me.”

He paced a few steps away and then returned, stopping in front of her. “You could freeze all transactions until you’re sure you can safely fire Fisher. Pull the plug on his wallet. Tell him you’re reviewing the finances, that your dad left explicit instructions and you intend to carry out his wishes. Stall until after the stadium vote and then fire him. When he’s gone, you can deal with the dead wood he’s foisted on the Sabers. It’ll stop him from messing with the team and if the team’s in good shape, the public will stay behind you.” He crouched down to her eye level, one hand on her knee. “And you can instruct Charley to bench Fisher’s boys. All three of them. Better yet, send them down to the minors until you can sort all this out.”

He looked like he was wanted to say more, but he rocked back, waiting for her reaction.

It was a brilliant solution, one she might not have seen. And it was basically true—her dad had wanted her to review the finances and personnel, and had left a note saying as much. She’d just never thought of using his requests as a strategy to buy time. Whatever Scotty thought of himself, he was no one-trick pony—the man had wisdom beyond his years. Wisdom and a sense of life like . . .
like her dad had
.

She swallowed down the thickness in her throat and closed her eyes, willing away the loneliness that tumbled through her. She wanted more than to be happy just for the night. Maybe that was why her dad had tried so hard to get her to work less and to spend time finding someone to share her life. The irony that she’d ended up with one of his players was a truth she couldn’t deny.

But she wasn’t going to think about that, not tonight.

“Thank you,” she said, “for that. I hadn’t thought of it.”

“You would’ve.”

“You’re not an easy man to praise, Donovan.”

He plopped down beside her on the couch, and she snuggled against him. He slid his arm around her shoulder and hugged her close, kissing the top of her head.

“You’re not an easy woman to help, McNalley.”

They sat contentedly, and the silence that enveloped them felt blissful. She could’ve sat wrapped in his arms for the rest of her life.

Before she was ready, he sat up and twisted to face her.

“My family is throwing a party for my baby sister on Monday. She passed her orals for her doctorate, and I promised I’d be there to celebrate.” He took her hands in his. “Come with me,” he said. “It’d be a quick turnaround, but I think you’d enjoy it.”

She couldn’t tell him how much she’d like to go, to meet the spunky grandmother he’d talked about, to eat barbecue with his nieces and nephews, to be surrounded by family. They had one day off due to the interleague scheduling. She shouldn’t go. She formed a polite no in her mind.

“We can take my jet,” she said.

It wasn’t the no she’d intended.

Wariness flicked into his eyes. “The plane doesn’t belong to the Sabers," she said. "It’s one of dad’s indulgences I haven’t dealt with yet.”

He crossed his arms and frowned.

“Or we can fly commercial,” she said, backpedaling. “I just thought it’d give you more time there and, well, it would be private.”

It wasn’t like she could hide what she had, who she was. Hell,
he
could hire a jet if he wanted one, but it’d be a waste since hers was sitting unused.

He stood and crossed over to the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room. His silence was unnerving, and Chloe grabbed a sofa pillow, squeezed it against her body as she watched him. He plucked an orange from a bowl and tossed it in the air and caught it behind his back. He tossed it a couple times more, and Chloe couldn’t decide if he was considering the offer or searching for an out.

He pulled two more oranges from the bowl and flipped all three in a quick show of juggling prowess and dexterity.

“Guess that’s why they call them private jets,” he said. He winked at her, looking happy, but Chloe couldn’t help feeling that they’d just walked into some very bumpy territory.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to rescind her offer.

Chapter Fourteen

Chloe sat in Mike Thomas’s office, waiting for him to return from lunch. For an attorney, he had a less than tidy desk, but she liked him better for it. He had a good mind. And her father had trusted him. That was enough for her.

“I saw that Donovan is pitching somewhat better,” Mike said as he breezed into the room.

“
Somewhat better
isn’t a category in the box scores. I’m sure Charley will sort him out.”

An odd smile started to curve into his lips before he checked it.

“Mike, I have to get rid of Fisher.”

“That’s music to an old man’s ears.”

“You’re not that old.”

“Old enough to know that Fisher is more of a problem than we’d suspected,” he said. “I’ve done some more digging. I don’t know what he has on the owner of the Titans, but you were right—he left under less than amiable circumstances. He’s also smack in the middle of an acrimonious and very expensive divorce. And he’s in debt. Some say he gambles on games.”

Mike’s words sliced through her. “No one does that.”

“Some have. And they’ve been caught. It’s nasty business, Chloe. He’d have to be mighty desperate. Or corrupt. If
I
were a betting man, I’d say he’s both.”

“I met with George Ellis.” Chloe took a wrapped candy from a crystal dish on Mike’s desk. “He gave in and said he’ll come back, but only until I can find a replacement. But he can’t come in until next month—some cruise he’s promised his wife. He said she’s waited twenty years.”

Mike laughed. “Wouldn’t want to rile Rose. Not if you want George back.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“My staff’s going over the finance reports, the ones you gave me. I’ll let you know what they turn up.” He shifted in his seat. “We’ll have to be very careful, Chloe.” He put his hand to his chin. “
You’ll
have to be careful.”

She told him her plan to cut off Fisher’s access to funds, to pull his power to make any personnel decisions and to send the three players he’d brought on board down to the minors until she and George could deal with them properly.

Mike sat back and steepled his fingers.

“I’ve only come across a couple of people like him in my thirty years around the game,” he said. “Desperation makes men do unthinkable things, take irrational risks. He could try to leverage what power he has, use the press. He knows with the vote coming up in a few weeks you’re in a tough position, that it’d look really bad if you fired him. I think you should wait as long as you can to make a move. Wait until after the stadium deal is voted through.” He leaned toward her. “But be on your guard. He could try to make the public doubt you, make the team doubt you, even make you doubt yourself. Although I doubt he’d be able to do that.”

Unfortunately, that was one doubt she and Mike didn’t share; she second-guessed every decision, unsure of her way and her instincts. She simply didn’t have the experience to know outcomes in advance.

So, no, she and self-doubt were not exactly strangers.