Worth the Trade (More Than A Game)

WORTH THE TRADE

More Than A Game, Book Two

By KRISTINA MATHEWS

LYRICAL PRESS

http://lyricalpress.com/

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/

To my two sons. From the time you were each just “a player to be named later” to your first baseball games to watching you both find your own interests as you’ve grown, it’s been a pleasure to be your mom.

Acknowledgements
 

I’d like to thank my fellow authors at Sacramento Valley Rose chapter of Romance Writers of America. You have been my coaches, my cheerleaders, and my teammates
.

Chapter 1

“That’s him. Over there.” Hunter Collins recognized her new left fielder by the body language, posture, and raw physical power of a professional athlete.

“The guy in the plaid shirt?” The limo driver shook his head in doubt. “Are you sure? He doesn’t look like no baseball player. He’s too tall.”

Marco Santiago was indeed tall. And dark. And—she hated to admit, even to herself—incredibly handsome. The expert tailoring of his shirt emphasized his broad shoulders, long, strong arms, and slender waist. Dark denim hugged slim hips, clung to muscular thighs, and she’d put good money on what they did to his taut backside.

His tattered duffel bag was slung carelessly over his left shoulder. A small leather case lay at his feet. The casual observer might interpret his relaxed pose as lazy, bored, or perhaps a little worse for the wear. But she’d watched him on the field enough to know he could spring into action with panther-like reflexes at the crack of the bat.

“He’s the one.” Her heart rate quickened. A little more than three months ago she’d inherited forty percent ownership of the San Francisco Goliaths. At twenty-seven, Hunter was the youngest president of one of Major League Baseball’s oldest franchises. She brushed off the pain of losing her father, focusing instead on her first official player acquisition. Together they would make their mark on the new era of Goliaths’ baseball.

As the driver pulled up to the curb, she noticed the slight change in Santiago’s stance. His shoulders straightened and he rocked back on his heels like he was ready to chase down a fly ball. There it was, the instinct that had her drooling over him for some time. As a ballplayer, nothing more.

Her driver got out, opened the passenger door, and Santiago ducked inside.

“Whoa, you scared me. I didn’t expect company.” He smiled at her, flashing a set of dimples and startlingly blue eyes. He let his gaze travel the length of her body, inspecting her, before nodding his approval. “But this might turn out to be a good trade after all.”

Excuse me?

“Are you saying you’re not happy about the trade?” He had no idea how hard she’d worked to make this deal happen. For the past few weeks she’d practically slept with her cell phone attached to her ear, when she’d slept at all. She’d tuned out the sports talk show hosts and beat reporters and bloggers who claimed she was too inexperienced to make a deal. As if
inexperienced
was a euphemism for
female
.

Not to mention the embarrassing and insulting offers initially given by the other team. They’d wanted her to give up half her farm system, thinking she didn’t know the wealth of talent she had in the minor leagues. But once they realized she actually did know what she was doing, they were able to strike a fair deal.

“It came as a surprise.” He settled into the leather seat. “Sure, I heard rumors. But there are always trade rumors this time of year. I really didn’t expect to walk into the clubhouse this morning only to be told I was no longer wanted in St. Louis.”

“You’ll be welcomed with open arms here in San Francisco.” Hunter gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Is that so?” He looked her over as if she wore something low-cut and see-through. Or nothing at all. “So are you the welcoming committee? If they’d done their homework they’d have known I usually prefer blondes. But I can make an exception, just for tonight.”

He cocked one eyebrow up and drew his mouth into a grin that stopped just short of a leer.

“I don’t see why my hair color should matter to you.” She tried not to roll her eyes. He wasn’t the first athlete to assume the only place for a woman in pro sports was underneath him and naked. “Your last owner was fully gray. And the one before him was completely bald.”

At his stunned silence, she smiled and held out her hand.

“Hunter Collins. President and Managing Partner of the San Francisco Goliaths Baseball Club.” She avoided referring to herself as the
acting
president. A role she’d served in during her father’s long illness. Hell, she’d served in that role since she was old enough to read a box score. Unofficially, of course. Henry Collins had always been the face in the meetings, the name on the contracts. But she’d been right there with him, working behind the scenes. This was as much her team as anyone’s.

“My new boss.” He gave her a firm handshake before sinking back into the seat and letting out a frustrated sigh. “Can we start over?”

He turned toward her, a forced smile on his face. The kind of smile he’d give a reporter after a tough loss.

“Don’t bother telling me how happy you are to be here.” She had to admit, she was more than a little disappointed. Why wouldn’t he want to be here? The Goliaths were a first class organization. Her father had saved the team from being moved to Florida. He’d taken on partners in order to build the state-of-the-art ballpark without using public funds. The fans came out to fill the seats night after night, and the ownership did its best to offer the fans their money’s worth, even though they hadn’t won it all.
Yet.

“I am happy to be here. I just…” He ran his left hand through his hair. She didn’t need to check for a wedding ring. He was single, no family to uproot for the cross-country move. “My flight was delayed. I lost half my luggage. And I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. So I apologize if I seem less than thrilled.”

“I suppose you’ll be happier when you can get out on the field.” She’d been around athletes her whole life. Enough to know they were creatures of habit. Rain delays, schedule changes, and especially trade rumors could wreak havoc on their routine. Those distractions upset their rhythm and could only be remedied by getting back to work.

“I wish I could have been here in time to get out there tonight.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His thighs trembled with nervous energy. “But maybe a day off will do me some good.”

“You didn’t have the best series against Philly.” She’d followed his career closely. Probably knew his stats better than he did. “I imagine the trade rumors had something to do with it. I know you guys say you don’t pay any attention to that kind of thing, but it’s got to be a big distraction. Not to mention, a little hard on the ego.”

“So I take it you’re a hands-on kind of owner.” His voice was smooth, rich, sensual. The thought of his hands on her body popped up into her imagination. Not what she needed right now. His hands were going to make good catches, good throws, and big hits. His hands were going to make them a lot of money if they made the playoffs.
When
they made the playoffs.

“I like to keep up with my players. It’s good for business.” She had to turn away from him, from those blistering blue eyes. Where’d they come from? He had the dark hair, dark skin, dark stubble of a Latino player. He should have dark eyes, too, not neon blue ones.

“Don’t worry, I won’t disappoint you. You’ll get exactly what you paid for.” He looked down at his hands. Long, straight fingers. Short, well-manicured nails. Thick, strong wrists.

Oh my.

“My father always thought highly of you. He wanted to trade for you last year, but St. Louis beat us out.” She needed to remember why they were both here, in this limo that felt so much bigger before he slid into the seat next to her. Now it felt like they were thrown together into the back of a Smart Car. Not that a Smart Car even had a back seat. “So, I decided to carry out his wishes and make the deal happen. I’m sure you’ll prove yourself. On the field.”

“Your father?” He edged away from her. “Your father was Henry Collins.”

She just nodded, unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” His voice lost all traces of teasing. “He was a class act. The league will miss him.”

She chose to take his words as a compliment for her father, not an indication that he thought she wasn’t up to the job.

“Thank you.” She needed to pull herself together. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her as soft or weak. “Let’s get you to your hotel, get you settled in so you’ll be fresh for the game tomorrow.”

“Is the game over?” Santiago pulled out his phone, scrolled though the screen. “Nope. It’s the bottom of the seventh. Goliaths on top three to one. Why don’t we swing by the ballpark? I’d like to meet my new teammates tonight.”

“Right now?” She hadn’t expected him to want to get out there tonight. Especially after a long flight, lost luggage, and his disappointment at her not being a blonde.

“Unless you have something else planned for me.” He raised an eyebrow and flashed one of his dimples. He knew all too well how irresistible that smile was. “Because you own me now. So…”

“The ballpark it is.” Hunter leaned forward to alert the driver of their change of plans. She didn’t want to think about what she could demand of him, other than a division title. That was the only thing she wanted from Marco Santiago.

* * * *

The limo driver pulled up to the players’ lot and checked in with the security guard who waved them inside.

“I’ll see that your bag is sent to your hotel.” Hunter’s—Ms.
Collins’
tone was cool. Very impersonal and businesslike. “I’ll send the driver back around when the game is over.”

“Aren’t you going to stay?” Why that disappointed him, he had no idea.

“No. I’ve had a long week.” She heaved a sigh, sinking back against the seat. “I think I’ll go home, take a nice long bath.”

Marco closed his eyes, trying not to conjure up the image of her slipping naked into a tub full of warm water. Bubbles. Perhaps some scented oils. Damn. He shifted in the plush leather seat, his jeans becoming uncomfortably tight.