Her heart executed a somersault but she didn’t answer because she didn’t have one.
On the field, Wade pulled his mask down and went into a crouch to catch for Pace. His hair was a couple of weeks past needing a cut, curling from beneath his headgear over his ears, down to his collar in back.
Pace threw, and the ball snapped into Wade’s glove with a thwack that Sam could hear from the stands. Rising, Wade nodded as he called something to Pace. His eyes were shadowed by his cap, and though his mouth was slightly curved, she sensed a tension in him. The muscles in his arm flexed as he made his throw, the movement of his body tightening his jersey across the muscles of his back.
Though Sam believed in a woman going after what she wanted, she also believed in self-preservation. Wade didn’t know what he wanted. Well, he wanted her body. She knew that. Just the thought brought hers to life. But she wanted him to want more.
She wondered how he was dealing with his father, if he was doing okay. If he was fully recovered . . .
He turned back to the plate, and looked right at her as he did. She couldn’t see his expression, or even his eyes, but heat slashed through her anyway.
“Whew,” Holly said. “I recognize that look.”
Yes. So did Sam. So did Sam’s body.
Tag was being very quiet, minding himself, which was so odd, she stopped watching Wade and looked at him.
He had her binoculars out and was using them. Not on the guys on the field warming up, but in the stands.
“What are you looking at?” she asked.
“There’s a bunch of girls in bathing suits painting on each other.”
She and Holly and exchanged a glance, and then Sam took the binoculars. Yep, he was right, the bathing beauties were painting on each other, writing their favorite players’ names across their bodies.
“There’s a girl with Wade across her butt,” he said. “Can I have the binoculars back now?”
“No.” Sam lifted the binoculars up to her face, and look at that, they focused right in on Wade. Bad binoculars.
“What are you looking at?” Tag wanted to know. “The players?”
“Yes.” Well, one player . . .
“And how is that different?” he wanted to know.
“I’m old.”
Tag sighed, and beside her, Holly laughed softly.
Chapter 27
Baseball is an island of activity amidst a sea of statistics.
—Author Unknown
Pace pitched a no-hitter, and Wade had a two-run double in the eighth. It added up to a nice win for the Heat, ending their losing streak.
That night in the hotel, Tag went to Santos’s room. His kids and wife had traveled for this series, and Tag was off playing with the boys. Restless, Sam looked at her empty suite. Funny how last season she happily spent every night alone in her hotel room, and now she had one single night to herself and she was feeling lonely.
Tag had more than grown on her. She loved him. She wanted to keep him. And that wasn’t all. Wade had grown on her as well. And truth was, she loved him, too. And would like to keep him . . .
And yet she was alone.
Even worse, soon Tag would leave.
And Wade was already out of her life.
Dammit. She grabbed her key card and went downstairs in search of something chocolate. To her surprise, she found Wade in battered jeans and a T-shirt in the lobby. He was surrounded by a group of women seeking autographs and probably his body as well, but she told herself it was no longer her problem.
He’d served his sentence, he was free.
She started to walk on, but something made her turn and take another look at him.
He was smiling and talking easily. But . . . but she knew him now, maybe better than just about anyone. His smile wasn’t anywhere close to his eyes and he was even more uncharacteristically tense than he’d been during the game.
Don’t do it, Sam.
But she did. She fought her way to his side and stared down all the woman, who slowly scattered.
“Thanks,” he said gratefully pulling her in for a hug as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if maybe he’d missed her.
“Consider it a freebie.” She hugged him back, pathetically pressing her nose into his chest, inhaling the warm, male scent of him. Her hands ran up his back, feeling the bunched muscles. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I came down here to find my dad. He’s missing. Have you seen him?”
“Not since right after the game in the clubhouse. And speaking of which, it was nice of you to fly him out here and get him that box seat. He was raving about it after the game.”
“Good, but now he’s gone.” He turned toward the hotel bar.
“And you think—”
“I’d bet my last buck he’s somewhere near a bartender.”
She looked into his face, tight with strain, and took his hand, entwining her fingers in his. “There’re three lounges and four bars. We’ll split up.”
He looked down at her hand, then into her eyes, his own warm as he stroked a finger over her jaw. “Thanks.”
Not trusting her voice, Sam nodded. She let him check the entire ground floor. Nothing. She walked through the garden, eyeing each bench, and then walked through the pool area, just as Wade came out on the other side to do the same.
They saw John at the same time, on a pool lounge chair in a loud Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, a pretty woman on either side of him, all three sipping drinks, a bunch of empty glasses scattered around them.
Clearly, they’d been there awhile.
“We’re like this,” John was saying, holding up his free hand, his first two fingers twisted together. “Father and son. Tight as can be.”
“Can you get us Wade’s phone number?” one of the women asked.
“Sure,” John said, and seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, turned his head and met Sam’s gaze.
And then Wade stepped into view as well.
“Son,” John called. “Good to see you. Great game today.” He waved wildly. “Come join us.”
At the sight of Wade, the two girls leapt up and squealed with delight. Sam watched Wade wrestle a rare temper with his usual charm. The charm won, but it cost him. He wasn’t smiling as he signed autographs, or in this case, body parts. When they were gone, Wade looked at John coolly. “Where to now, Dad? Off to give some more women my phone number? To drink until you fall in the pool and drown? To act like an idiot half your age?”
“Would that bother you, son? Having me act like you?”
Wade stared at him, stunned. “What?”
“You don’t think I know anything about you, but I’ve read enough to know your ladies-man rep. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Wade, which means you’re acting like a hypocrite. So tell me. Are you pissed because I’m acting like an idiot? Or because you recognize that idiot and see yourself?”
Wade turned and shot a look at Sam, clearly not happy to have her listening to this. But she knew who he was, then and now, and yet before she could tell him so, he walked off.
“Sorry,” John said to Sam. “That wasn’t very kind of me.”
“He’s changed,” she said quietly. “He’s not the happy-go-lucky party boy you’re thinking of, not anymore. He’s changed, grown up . . .” She met his gaze. “And if you want him in your life, you’re going to have to do the same.”
He gestured to the empty glasses. “Virgin daiquiris. No alcohol.”
Sam looked into his clear eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell him that?”
“And ruin the fun he was having hating me?” He sighed. “I want him to believe in me on his own.”
“That might take a while. You’re going to have to be patient. And probably nicer.”
“I understand why you’d defend him. He’s so in love with you he can’t see straight.”
Her heart squeezed. “You’re wrong. He likes me. He . . .” Wants me. “It’s not what you thin
k.”
John smiled knowingly, and a little sadly, “So you’re just as stubborn as he is.”
The Heat flew directly to Chicago. Wade walked into his hotel room, wishing he was alone, but unfortunately, he was followed by his father.
“How many times am I going to have to say I’m sorry for last night?” John asked.
“Zero.” Wade ran a hand down his face. Sam had told him what she and his father had talked about last night, and the fact that John hadn’t been drinking. “You should have told me yourself.”
“I wanted you to see it. But I guess it was too soon. I shouldn’t have baited you.” John sat on Wade’s bed and picked up the remote, flicking through the channels.
Wade sighed. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for a diversion from the Jack Daniel’s I smuggled from the flight attendant. I thought maybe a porno channel would do it.”
“No porn. Jesus, just what I need is for it to get out that I charged porn to my room.”
“Maybe it’ll get you another month with Sam.”
Wade looked at his dad. “How do you know I’d want that?”
“I’ve pickled my liver, not my brain.”
Wade shook his head and held out his hand.
“What?”
“The Jack.”
John raised a brow.
“Give me the fucking Jack Daniel’s, Dad.”
John pulled it from his bag. Wade snatched it and despite wanting to down it himself, dumped it down the bathroom sink.
“I have quit, Wade. I just . . . sometimes it’s hard. I need you.”
“What makes you think I have any help to give? Christ, Dad, you’d be so much better off in rehab.”
“I don’t want to be babied, or pitied. And dammit, I don’t want to die alone.”
“You’re not going to die, you’re too stubborn.”
John smiled grimly. “True enough. Look, it’s just that I figured you were the only one in the world who’d be fresh out of pity for me. You’re just what I need.”
Wade sighed. “You’re right about the lack of pity.”
“So we going to do this?”
Wade looked at him for a long moment, knowing in spite of himself there was no other choice he could really live with. “If it’ll get me my remote back.”
At the gate before the Cub’s game, they were handing out stick-on tattoos of the player’s numbers. Tag grabbed a handful of Wade’s and plastered them all over himself. For fun, he also put one on Sam’s shoulder, and she had no idea what it said about her that she liked being branded with Wade’s number.
They were in the stands when Sam’s cell vibrated, and she answered without looking at the ID. “McNead.”
“I’m out.”
Jeremy. Her stomach dropped. Her gaze slid to Tag as her throat tightened at the thought of giving him up. “After only one month?”
“Yeah. It . . . wasn’t for me.”
Oh, God. She couldn’t let him take Tag back to his world. Wouldn’t. She stood up, gestured to Holly to watch Tag, and moved out of earshot. “What do you mean, it wasn’t for you? You have a kid to think about, you have to get better.”
“Yeah. Listen, Sam, I’m sort of on my way to Amsterdam to meet up with Lynn.”
She blinked. “Lynn as in the woman who destroyed you about ten years ago? Lynn as in Tag’s mom?”
“She called me out of the blue, wants to work things out—”
“Wait a minute. Exactly how long have you been out of rehab?”
“Few days.”
“Days?” And he hadn’t called Tag. Bastard.
“Okay, a week. You—”
“I thought you two were long over.”
“Me, too.”
“You can’t go back to her,” Sam said. “She’s not good to Tag. She—”
“I know. She’s . . . too young to be a mom.”
Sam was thinking Lynn was too mean and selfish to be a mom, but it didn’t matter. No way was she letting Tag go back to Jeremy with Lynn in the picture. In fact, if Jeremy asked her to bring Tag to Amsterdam, where they’d expose him to God knew what, Sam was going to have to kill him, strangle him with her bare hands. “You know what, Jeremy? You don’t really have a lot of choices here. You have a child. You need to live your life for him, not you. Do you even have any idea at all what this is doing to Tag? What it will do to him?”
“I was thinking that maybe you could hold on to him for a while longer.”
“Yes,” Sam said so quickly her head spun. “Yes, I’ll hold on to him. Frankly, I’ll hold on to him forever, you son of a bitch. In fact, my lawyer will be calling yours to see if we can’t work that very thing out.”
“Jesus, Sam.” He paused, then spoke very quietly. “But thank you.”
She held her tongue with great effort, because it would only hurt Tag to alienate him. “Do you want to talk to him?”
“Who?”
Sam opened her mouth but then simply shut her phone. “Whoops, bad connection,” she said, and went back to her seat and hugged Tag hard.
He only made one fake strangling noise, then let her continue to hold him for a minute, even setting his head on her shoulder before he squirmed. She released him and messed up his already messy hair. “Tag?”
“Yeah?”
“How would you feel about staying here with me even after your dad is done in rehab?”
He slid only his eyes toward her. “My mom still in Europe, huh?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I’m asking.”
“Why are you asking?”
“Because I like having you around. A lot.”
He was silent, and she shifted to catch his line of vision. “I was hoping you feel the same,” she said.
He looked at her, then nodded.
“So it’s okay with you? If you continue to stay with me?”
“Can I stop using soap?” he asked.
“No.”
“Can I have Frosted Flakes each morning for breakfast?”
“No, but I’ll keep ice cream in the freezer for dessert.”