Thrown By Love (26 page)

Tired of the dust, she walked out the double French doors of the library into the balmy afternoon. Summer had arrived in full and the gardens surrounding the house were overwhelmingly lush. Maybe it was the stunning weather or maybe it had just been the passage of time, but she was finally able to walk through the rose garden and not feel the terrific loneliness that had cloaked her since the day her dad had died.

She hummed a tune she’d heard in the stadium the week before, an upbeat song with a steady beat. Even the house felt less forbidding, although she still couldn’t bring herself to visit her dad’s suite of rooms. Yet there wasn’t any hurry. Nothing was going anywhere.

She returned to the library and sorted through her papers until the piles were each labeled and ready to tackle, one at a time. Her course books sat unopened on the sitting room table. She’d made her peace with leaving her class, at least for the time being. Teaching the story of the universe had been so much a part of her life, she couldn’t give it up, not entirely. She’d spoken with her dean at Stanford, and he’d assured her she could teach a guest course now and then. During the off-season she’d finish up two research projects she’d had to put on hold. Seeing them published would be some consolation. It would have to be enough. Four months ago, if anyone had told her that she’d stop teaching to run a baseball team, she’d have labeled them nuts. But the McNalley gene ran deep. She’d entered the world of the game, taken up the torch, and the thrill was undeniable. Some days she wasn’t sure whether to curse or praise her father. Other days she did both.

She reviewed the bundle of information from Mike Thomas. Soon she’d be able to deal properly with Fisher and turn the guy over to the MLB commissioner. The information Mike had gathered should provide the commissioner enough ammunition to drive the man out of the game. But with the stadium vote looming, it felt like everything was happening at once. Just that morning Mike had told her that Halliman, the venture capitalist who’d shown an interest in buying the team, had contacted him. He had another offer, he’d told Mike, one she might want to consider.

But the hustle of the move and her worries over Fisher did nothing to distract her from her heavy heart. She ached to see Scotty, to hear his voice, to just talk and laugh with him, ached in a way that made her feel some days as if she were hollow inside, not really there, as if she were going through the motions of living without feeling anything at all. Six days with no contact. She had to laugh at that. The universe was 13.8
billion
years old and she was mooning like a teenager over the passage of six days? But the deep message of her heart was real. She’d deal with Fisher, get Scotty back to the Giants, and maybe then they’d have a chance.

If he even wanted one.

And that was just one more worry. Chloe straightened out a few already straight piles on the desk, trying to ignore doubt and the tensing of her shoulders that came with it. She’d stalled trading Scotty for a few days, unsure. What if she arranged the trade, straightened everything out, and Scotty decided he didn’t want her? What if he decided she was too much trouble? What if he met someone else, someone with no baggage that interfered with his livelihood?

She rolled her shoulders again. Just thinking about all the complications had her tight and anxious.

Thinking about Scotty and another woman had her going crazy.

He liked sex, was great at it. Would he give that up? Would he seek casual partners while Chloe was trying to make up her mind?

“Arrgh!”

She jumped out of her chair. Those kinds of thoughts weren’t helpful. And she couldn’t even say they were fruitless. No, they were producing plenty of fruit in her mind. But it was the poisoned kind. She had to stop imagining worst-case scenarios.

Her stomach growled and she headed for the kitchen. Her purse sat wide open on the counter. She rummaged through it again—she’d already emptied it twice. Funny how you could do something again and again and expect a different result even though nothing had changed. Maybe she did believe in magic. But her phone wasn’t there. Maybe she’d stuffed it into her gym bag at the last minute. She’d grab a bite and then look for it again upstairs. She heard Mrs. Dayton humming in the hallway. It was no secret that the staff was glad to have her in the house, to know that their lives would go on almost as they always had.

Chloe flicked on the TV on the way to the refrigerator. Mrs. Dayton had stocked it with her wonderful homemade soups, and a salad waited on the top shelf. Chloe grabbed a fork and settled in at the counter. She’d just lifted the first forkful when she heard the bubbly voice of the network’s female sports reporter.

She checked her watch. Today’s game hadn’t started. She saw from the banner crawl that the newscast was a replay from the previous day’s game. She’d skipped watching it, unable to concentrate on organizing her move and watch Scotty pitch at the same time. She’d taped the game, though, and planned to watch it later that evening.

The blonde reporter leaned in toward Scotty. Really close to him.

“Great game,” she said, smiling at Scotty.

Chloe felt her shoulders relax. The Sabers must’ve won.

The reporter’s smile widened, if that was possible. There must be a school where they taught reporters to smile that way, wide and falsely intimate, as if they and their interviewee had interests, or maybe secrets, in common. Scotty didn’t smile back.

“It’s a great team,” he said. “We go out and deliver, back each other up, get it done.”

“Speaking of backing each other up, is there truth to the rumors that you have a rather
special
relationship with Sabers’ owner Chloe McNalley?”

Chloe’s fork clanged to the counter.

She watched as Scotty grinned that perfectly boyish grin, sweet and open and relaxed. Oh no, was he going to give their relationship away?

“Miss McNalley makes every player feel like he’s playing for her.” He paused. It was the longest moment of Chloe’s life. “But no player would ever have any kind of serious relationship with ownership, you know that.” He shook his head. “We leave that to our agents.” He laughed lightly and walked out of the frame.

She wished she could play the interview back, listen again. But she knew what she’d heard. He’d said it so perfectly, so convincingly, that she had no trouble believing him.

So from his vantage point, they weren’t in any relationship. She’d been fooling herself that she meant anything to him. The heart could write its own fictions, who didn’t know that?

The one thing she didn’t have to wonder about was how the reporter got her information. Fisher was playing this out, just as Mike had warned her he might.

But it was Scotty’s performance she hadn’t been prepared for. Maybe she should thank him. How long she would’ve fooled herself into believing she was special to him, that what they’d shared ran deep, she didn’t know. But he’d taken care of that.

She picked up her plate and shoved it into the fridge, although she doubted she’d be hungry later. She certainly wasn’t now.

She tossed and turned late into the night, Scotty’s face and words replaying in a relentless loop in her mind.

The next day Chloe drove to Mike’s office for a meeting with Halliman. She hadn’t wanted to meet with him, but Mike had insisted. She didn’t see Halliman’s red Maserati in the lot, but there was no mistaking the tricked-out Range Rover, even if it was a subtle navy blue. Maybe he was trying to make a different impression.

“You surprise me, Mr. Halliman,” Chloe said as she sank into the chair beside Mike. “I thought we’d made it clear that we weren’t interested in your offer.”

“I’m sorry to bring rotten news,” Halliman said, “but I think there’s a way to turn all this around.”

All what
? Chloe wondered as she darted a look at Mike. But Mike just nodded to Halliman.

“Your man, Fisher, approached me with a pretty unsavory deal,” Halliman said. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I like deals. But not bad ones. I think there probably is a God, and I’d like to have a good score in the end when I meet up with him.”

“Fisher’s not
my
man, Mr. Halliman.”

“So Mr. Thomas tells me.” Halliman leaned forward and pressed his palms on his knees. “Fisher approached me a few days ago. Though he didn’t tell me outright, I did a little sleuthing and pieced together his twisted strategy. Fisher believes he can force you out by driving down the team’s performance and eroding the public’s confidence in you as an owner. He’s using the stadium vote to bully you and is sure you’ll sell to me, especially if the vote doesn’t go through. He expects that I’d give him a cut for his part in helping me secure the team for a low price. Bringing in poorly performing players in the past months is just one thread in the web he’s been weaving.”

Chloe’s stomach clenched. She sat stunned. There was an even stronger thread in Fisher’s nasty web. If her relationship with Scotty became public, it’d trigger a press frenzy. She’d known Fisher was a worm, she just hadn’t estimated how devious the man was.

“Miss McNalley?”

She swallowed down the lump forming in her throat. “I need some water.”

Both men jumped up, but Mike got to the carafe on the side table first. He poured a glass and brought it to her.

Chloe sipped at the water and swallowed, then looked over to Halliman. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Let’s just say I like your spunk. After our first meeting, I thought a lot about what you said about the Sabers, about baseball and being in something worthwhile for the long run. It’s not often I can do something heroic”—he laughed lightly—“but this seemed just the ticket.” He held her in a straightforward gaze. “I can be ruthless going after what I want, but I’m not a bad guy. And I have lots of experience with tricks and lies and those who deal in both. Yet if I’m going to help you, I need to know precisely what we’re up against. No bullshit and no games.”

She pressed her palms against her skirt, mentally forcing herself to calm down. “I’ve cut off Fisher’s access to funds, all funds both for players and revenue rights. He didn’t take it well, as you can imagine. But he’s demanded a three-year contract and is trying to force me to sign it.” She met Mike’s eyes. “And there are rumors that he’s betting on games, maybe even working with players to throw them.”

Halliman shifted, drawing her attention back to him. “I gathered from my meeting with him that he thinks he has something on you, something personal that gives him an ace. Is it true? Can he cause a stink?”

She knew then how Halliman managed to make deals that no one else did—the man could read what wasn’t said. And he was reading her. She looked over at Mike. He too held her in a focused gaze, but his was different from Halliman’s. It was as if Mike knew what she was hiding. She looked away from both of them. Condensation from the water glass dripped onto her lap, and she brushed the water away. Then, not able to sit still, she stood and crossed the room to set the glass on Mike’s desk. It was time for her to face what she’d dreaded. She turned, pressed her hips against the desk.

“He’s blackmailing me. He has a photo of me in a compromising position with a player, a Sabers player.” She lifted her eyes to Mike, but his face showed no surprise and she saw no judgment in it. That eased her greatest fear. When she looked back at Halliman, he too showed no surprise. If what she’d heard about him was true, he’d probably seen and heard everything.

“Fisher has threatened to give the photo to the press, knowing I can’t fire him before the stadium vote without giving the council and the city misgivings. Having a public feud with my GM, dismissing him and accusing him of criminal offences while he reveals my relationship with a player, makes the organization look bad, maybe incompetent. It certainly doesn’t instill confidence at a time when we need the city to be unfailingly behind us.” She took in a very long, very deep breath and blew it out before adding, “From what you’re telling me, he appears to be playing all angles. It never occurred to me that he’d think he’d benefit from the stadium vote failing.”

“I saw Scotty Donovan’s interview yesterday,” Halliman said.

“You
have
been watching the team.”