Meant For Her

  Brinkman was an umbrella company for a number of different product manufacturers. This particular shoot was going to feature environmentally-friendly, cruelty-free beauty products. When she and Bastian had initially brainstormed about it, they’d come up with a natural, organic feel for the shoot. The studio backed up on green space that they sometimes incorporated into their campaigns, so with the right lighting, the area would be spectacular for this shoot.

  Sierra was still puzzled over the time change, as morning light was much better for outdoor shoots than high noon, and would be more comfortable temperature-wise. Bastian must have decided to move it in for some reason. Last-minute changes of that nature were unusual, though. They’d already secured the models, wardrobe, and props they planned to use. He hadn’t texted or e-mailed since that morning with more of an explanation. She figured she’d get there a little early the next day and pick his brain.

  For now, she e-mailed him her ideas for a “green is sexy” theme to feature the product line. It would expand on their initial idea, but not depart so much from it that they couldn’t use the elements they’d already arranged. She thought they could do a combination of wardrobe and the spotlighted cosmetics with green tones and pair those with the buzzword “green” for “environmentally-friendly.” She envisioned models in sexy, flowing green gowns wearing the Brinkman line and posing against trees, or maybe on the ground in the green grass, arms extended toward the sunlight like Mother Nature herself…

  It was after midnight when she finalized her ideas and e-mailed them to Bastian. She knew he’d check them first thing when he got to the studio, which was usually right after Camille got there to open up. Since her brain was wired, she didn’t fall asleep until after two.

  Her phone rang at quarter to nine the next morning. Glancing at the Caller ID, she saw that it was Bastian.

  “Hey, Bast—” she began.

  “Where the hell are you, Short Stuff? You know I wanted you here at eight to help get the models ready. This is the biggest shoot of the summer.”

  “What?” Sitting up and flinging her comforter off the bed, she leaped toward her dresser and started throwing clothes onto the bed. “But you texted and said the shoot had been moved to noon.”

  “The hell I did,” he barked. “Why would we shoot so late in the day? You know better than that, Sierra.”

  Disappointment radiated in his voice. She tugged on shorts and wondered how she’d managed to screw this up.

  “I’m sorry, Bastian. I don’t know what happened, but I can be there in twenty—”

  “Don’t bother. We start shooting in a few minutes. Camille’s going to cover. She got here early and saved my ass. She’s actually got some incredible ideas for the shoot. Think ‘green is sexy.’”

  Sierra sank onto the bed as she realized what had happened. Camille must have sent the text. She had access to Bastian’s phone and e-mail as his assistant. It would have been easy enough for her to intercept Sierra’s message from the night before.

  “Those were my ideas,” she said.

  Bastian snorted. “You’ll wish they had been when you see the results and hear how much I’ll be paying Camille. Let me know when you’re ready to get back on my payroll.”

  The call disconnected. She stared at the dark screen for several long minutes.

  All of her hard work, all of these months of planning…all for nothing. All for Camille to steal them out from under her.

  How was she going to cover the loss of this expected income? How was she going to convince Bastian that she had been wronged? What was she going to do about Camille?

  Needing to think things through, she pulled on a T-shirt and headed out to the balcony. The morning air and pretty scenery rarely failed to help clear her mind. She walked to the far ledge and gripped it tightly, allowing her anger to roll through her. It was justified, and she wanted nothing more than to strangle Camille with her camera strap. But years of yoga and meditation had taught her that anger was an unproductive emotion. She needed to work through that so she could figure out what to do.

  “Not even going to say good morning, huh?”

  She glanced over and spotted Evan sitting in his chair with a cup of coffee. Perhaps coming outside hadn’t been the best plan, she thought.

  “I’m not feeling particularly sociable right now,” she said, turning her attention back to the trees in the distance.

  “Worried about the shoot today?”

  Under other circumstances, she would have been happy that he’d remembered that detail about her schedule. Now, though, it made her grip the railing tighter.

  “I won’t be going to the shoot,” she said. “It turns out that Bastian didn’t send that text about the time change, so the shoot is happening even as we speak. I think his assistant, Camille, sent it. She also stole my ideas for the shoot and will be earning my pay for it.”

  “What?”

  His tone was incredulous, matching how she’d initially felt. Now she felt betrayed and hollow.

  “What the hell are you going to do about it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I came out here to think of something.”

  “What is there to think about? Drive to the studio and have it out with Camille. Show your boss the text and give him proof you’re the one with the ideas.”

  Sighing, she looked back at him. “I can’t go over there and interrupt the shoot right now. It took months to plan. My barging in would do more harm than good for the company. Timing is critical, and Bastian is in his full creative—”

  “Who cares about any of that?” Evan got to his feet, clearly steamed. “This is your career you’re talking about, Sierra. Stop being so goddamn nice for a change and stand up for yourself, for Christ’s sake.”

  She recoiled as though he’d slapped her. Crossing her arms protectively over her chest, she backed away from him.

  “You know, Evan, I’m aware that I’m not as capable as you are of confronting people, and maybe I am too nice sometimes. But that’s my mistake to make. Sometimes we just need our friends to pick us up when we fall, rather than beat us up while we’re down.”

  When he didn’t respond, she turned and walked back into her apartment, locking the door behind her. She had other friends who would offer her the support she needed.

  She just wished it didn’t hurt so much that Evan couldn’t.

  Chapter 26

  After taking the dogs for their noon walk on July fourth, Evan stopped at the row of community mailboxes to check his mail from the past couple of days. He didn’t bother looking through the stack of what was sure to be ads and takeout menus until he got upstairs. The dogs didn’t exactly make it easy to sort and walk at the same time.

  Music filtered out from Sierra’s apartment as he walked past it. He hadn’t seen her since their confrontation on the balcony two days ago. That had given him plenty of time to think about what she’d said.

  Hadn’t he just told himself the day before they argued how glad he was that Cole didn’t judge him even when he made no sense? Yet he’d jumped right down Sierra’s throat when he’d felt she was making the same mistake. How much of a hypocrite did that make him?

  She was right. There was no denying at this point that they were friends, and he should have offered her support rather than made her feel like she’d done something wrong. He’d just been so angry on her behalf that he hadn’t thought through his response.

  In fairness, he’d never really been friends with a woman before. His guy friends would have been all over the idea of kicking Camille’s ass. Well, symbolically speaking.

  He supposed he had some things to learn. He also needed to apologize. The trick was figuring out how to do that. It wasn’t exactly a strength of his.

  Standing over his garbage can, he sorted through his mail. Near the bottom of the stack, he came across a folded piece of paper that felt like normal copy paper. The printed message on it read, You will lose everything, asshole.

  Frowning,
he read it a second time and flipped it over to see if it was some weird advertising campaign. There was nothing on the back.

  “What the hell?” he muttered.

  Had the message actually been meant for him? He tried to think of someone who would have the desire to threaten him and knew where he lived.

  Angeline? He supposed it was possible. There was the whole saying about a woman scorned for a reason.

  Jensen? He’d couriered his payment to Sierra, so he knew her address. Did he know that Evan lived in the same building? It wasn’t exactly a secret, and Caroline had been steadily applying pressure to Matt with her investigation. He could have done it.

  Hell, a disgruntled fan could have done it, assuming the message hadn’t been left in his box by mistake or as a twisted joke. They’d lost two games in a row. Players received hate mail for all kinds of screwy reasons…though not usually at their homes.

  Setting it aside, he put it out of his mind. He needed to get ready to head to the stadium for that evening’s game. Thanks to their recent losses, management wanted them all there by two for a team meeting before they dressed out for pre-game stretch and batting practice.

  He made himself a turkey sandwich and vegetable soup for lunch, adding apple slices on the side for the potassium. The heat while he’d been walking the dogs was fierce, so he drank a few glasses of water while he was at it.

  Once he was done with lunch, he changed out of his sleeveless workout shirt and gym shorts into a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt. Unfortunately, he then had to see to the task of caging the dogs.

  “Come on, Miller,” he said, going from room to room in search of the little bugger. “This is harder on me than it is on you.”

  Beck had been easy enough to get into his cage. His still-healing paw didn’t allow him to move as fast as his brother. Miller, however, had learned that he was going to be caged whenever Beck was, and he’d taken to hiding.

  Evan searched under his bed and in both closets. He looked in the bathtubs and all over the family room. The dog was nowhere to be found.

  “Miller, damn it—I’m going to be late,” he growled as he stood in the middle of his kitchen.

  His cell buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text from Sierra. It was ridiculous how his heartbeat accelerated just seeing her name on his phone.

  Check under the guestroom sink, the text read.

  Shaking his head, he walked into the empty guestroom and opened the cabinet door. Sure enough, two blue eyes surrounded by a dark mask of fur stared back at him.

  “You’re lucky you resemble Batman in his Batcave,” Evan said, reaching in, pulling him out by his scruff, and holding him at eye level. “It’s saving you from an epic ass-whooping right now.”

  Miller licked his cheek.

  “I’m serious,” Evan said as he walked to the cage. “You may think I’m soft on you because you’re smart enough to hide under the sink, but—ah, hell. I’m so damn proud right now.”

  He rubbed Miller’s head before closing his cage door. Standing back up, he texted a thank you to Sierra before he headed out to the stadium.

  The team meeting was the usual run-through of the errors they’d been making and what they needed to improve in order to pull out the win. Evan already knew that he needed to step up. He hadn’t performed well in his last two outings, going only two for seven and committing a costly error in the previous night’s game. Something was off, and he hadn’t figured out how to shake it.

  Hoping some additional BP would help, he headed out to the field for pre-game practice. He did his stretches and runs first, grateful for the cloudy sky. Although the humidity was killer, there was a decent breeze and he didn’t feel quite like he was boiling in his own skin.

  They opened the gates to the fans a couple of hours before game time while BP was still taking place. It was one of his favorite parts of practice, when he could run around shagging balls with some of the other players, occasionally handing off a ball to a fan in the stands.

  Once he had taken his turn to bat, he worked left field like he was Ted Williams. He dove for balls, tried for underhanded catches, and otherwise showboated to get a rise out of the growing crowd. Several of his teammates did the same in their spots around the diamond.

  One foul ball had him jogging over toward the stands on the third base side. He gauged it right, catching it as he bent over the railing leading into the stands.

  A chorus of feminine voices rose in a cheer, drawing his attention as he righted himself. Glancing up a few rows, he spotted a group of women, all clapping and whistling.

  That wasn’t unusual. The team had a lot of female fans. What surprised him was seeing Sierra and her mothers among the cheerleaders.

  He felt the corners of his mouth tugging up. Lifting the ball, he waved it in Sierra’s direction. She smiled.

  And he knew then what had been off about his game over the past two days.

  “Come and get it,” he called out.

  She rose, saying something to the older woman sitting to her right. Based on the woman’s resemblance to Regina, Evan guessed that she was Sierra’s grandmother. He remembered Sierra saying she was a big fan of the team.

  “Hi, Evan,” she said as she stopped in front of him.

  “Hi, Sierra.”

  Her hair was different, he realized. She’d gone with a couple of red and deep blue streaks to accent her light blonde curls in keeping with the patriotic holiday. Or, he supposed, the team colors. Since she wore a team jersey and cheek temp tattoos with their red and blue logo, she could very well have been showing team spirit.

  Handing her the ball, he asked, “Why are you sitting on the visitor’s side?”

  She flashed her dimples again. “It’s closer to third base. Have I mentioned that your butt looks amazing in your uniform pants?”

  “You might have.” Glancing behind her, he lifted his chin toward her family. “Is that your grandma?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she want me to autograph her cleavage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would she settle for a pre-game hug?”

  “Oh, I think that might make her entire life complete. I’ll be right back.”

  She turned and jogged up the few stairs to her row. He honed in on her amazing legs. She was wearing those denim shorts again, he noticed. His gaze moved up as she edged back into her row to talk to her grandma. When he realized what she was wearing, he went very still.

  It was his number.

  Something indefinable shifted in him upon seeing his name across the back of her jersey. Even though he’d been an ass when she needed his support, she was broadcasting her support of him to the world. Well, at least in his mind. It was something he’d never forget.

  The part of him that had dreamed of this scenario since high school had him doing a surreptitious glance around under the cover of his sunglasses. He wanted to see who had noticed the sexy blonde wearing his jersey and smiling at him like he’d just handed her a prize. Once he realized that a number of the players on his team and in the visitor’s dugout had taken an interest in Sierra, though, he decided he wasn’t quite as excited about sharing this moment as he’d imagined.

  Sierra’s grandmother followed her down from her seat, moving as fast as a woman half her age. Her excitement was obvious from her wide smile and even wider eyes. He noticed that Sierra hung back, wanting to give her grandmother this moment with him.

  “Mr. Dorsey,” she said as she approached. “My name’s Penelope Malone. It’s an honor to meet you.”

  “The honor’s all mine, Ms. Malone,” he said. “I told Sierra that I had to meet the beautiful lady sitting beside her, and she was kind enough to bring you down. Could I get a hug for good luck?”

  “Oh, you are a charmer,” she said. “I’d love a hug.”

  She reached down and put her arms around him. He saw Sierra lift a camera and figured she was capturing the moment. Regina and Deanne smiled and waved, so he w
aved back.

  “Did you see all those Florida players lookin’ at our Sierra?” Penelope asked near his ear.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You kick their asses, hear?”

  Choking back a laugh, he repeated, “Yes, ma’am.”

  She patted him on the back. “I knew I liked you. We’ll be cheerin’ for you, sweetheart.”

  When she turned to walk back to her seat, Sierra stepped back down. “Thank you for doing that, Evan,” she said.

  “You’re welcome, Sierra.”

  “Good luck, or break a leg, or whatever I’m supposed to say,” she said with a smile.

  “Thanks.”

  As she turned to walk away, he reached out and grabbed her hand. He had several things he wanted to say, beginning with an apology. But as she glanced back at him, he knew it wasn’t the time.

  She gave his hand a squeeze and nodded. “Have a great game, Evan.”

  He had a feeling that he would.

  Chapter 27

  “There are a lot of people looking at you right now, Sierra.”

  Smiling over her sister’s observation, Sierra edged into their row and took her seat. She was well aware of the stares she was receiving as a result of her conversation with Evan. In truth, it was kind of cool.

  “They’ll focus on the game soon enough,” she told her sister as she lifted her camera to take some more shots.

  “I feel so out of the loop,” Lane complained, resting her chin in her hand. “Being away at school keeps me out of touch.”

  “You have a cell phone and e-mail, hon,” Regina said as she patted Lane’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Lane blew a strand of her long, blonde hair out of her eyes. “I won’t make excuses. But I’ll admit that if I had known Sierra was hooking up with Evan Dorsey, I might have made an extra effort to reach out for details.”