Love of the Game Read online

  Took a gulp.

  The wine—which tasted of the sweetest corners of heaven—loosened Kasha’s reserve, and she kicked off her flip-flops, tucked her feet up underneath her in the chair, and reached back to undo her braid, letting her hair uncoil across her shoulders.

  Be careful that it doesn’t loosen your tongue.

  She was terrified that if she spoke, she’d say what she’d been thinking ever since they started working together.

  Take me to bed.

  Thankfully, the waiter appeared with their fajitas, and the band shifted into a far less romantic song. Yay.

  They shared the fajitas, sitting so close their shoulders bumped from time to time as they reached over to spear grilled bell peppers and caramelized onion slices and meaty mushrooms and roasted summer squash dusted with chili powder and cumin.

  They passed each other tortillas and beans and rice; the easy camaraderie that had been with them throughout the entire day returned. They ate and watched the sunset and drank wine and talked about nothing and everything.

  The air around Stardust thickened, and a moist orange hue spilled across the purple-blue stretch of cooling twilight sky. Kasha inhaled deeply, relishing the tangy sting of roasted chipotle peppers rafting on the evening breeze, and released a long, contented sigh.

  A perfect day indeed.

  “Do you want another tortilla?” Axel asked, lifting the lid on the red plastic warmer, steam rolling off the flour tortillas.

  “I’ve already had three. You’re a bad influence.” Kasha laid a hand over her stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

  He took the tortilla; filled it with refried beans, rice, grated cheddar, guacamole, and sour cream; and folded it up into a neat little pouch. “Mmm,” he said, and wagged the burrito in front of her. “Sure you don’t want a bite?”

  “You go ahead.” She laughed and leaned back against the patio chair, dropped her hands into her lap, and gazed down the end of the dock to the lake glowing in the light from the lanterns.

  When he finished off the last of the food, the owner brought them sopapillas. “On the house,” he said, and left a bottle of honey.

  “We gotta eat ’em,” Axel said. “They’re on the house.”

  “You get free stuff all the time, don’t you?”

  “Yep.” He drizzled honey on one of the fried tortilla pillows and held it out to her. “Open wide.”

  He was feeding her. If she wasn’t tipsy, she certainly wouldn’t let him feed her, but she was tipsy, and she opened her mouth and leaned in, and when Axel’s fingertips touched her mouth, she came unraveled.

  She closed her eyes, closed teeth over the cinnamon-dusted sopapilla, and an involuntary moan of delight escaped her lips. “Ohh, ohh, so good.”

  A drop of honey clung to her lips. She flicked out her tongue to lick it away, and opened her eyes to find Axel staring intently at her mouth, as if he wished he were that drop of honey.

  “This is the best damn wine ever,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on her, and breathing as if overcome by a force beyond his control.

  “I know,” she whispered. Her heart hopped, hyped up and hopeful. There was no such thing as soul-mate-detecting wine. It was insanity to entertain such a crackpot theory, but here she was.

  Entertaining it.

  She should get up, make an excuse, and tell him she had to go home, but inertia welded her butt to the chair, and she couldn’t make herself move.

  Truth.

  She was sitting beside a famous, powerful male, a major league baseball player, and he was drop-dead handsome and passionate. So damn passionate that he stirred the wildness in her.

  A wildness that she ran from.

  And she was hot and wet and more turned on than she’d ever been in her life. She fidgeted from fear and guilt and pleasure, sliding her bare feet back and forth across the deck boards, halfway hoping she’d get a splinter and it would jolt her out of this craziness.

  Craziness.

  The old Patsy Cline song “Crazy” popped into her head. She was starting to want this, want him, too much.

  Where was the cork? The stopper to shove back into this bottle and pray it would seal up the genie of desire that the wine had unleashed.

  Don’t blame it on the wine. You were horny for him long before this.

  Yes, but until that first blissful sip, she’d been able to control her urges, govern herself. Now? Her organs and bones, blood and skin were anarchists, demanding revolt.

  She stole a peek at him as he lazily tippled more wine into both their glasses, his wrist lightly gripping the neck of the bottle. A tiny shiver at how strong that wrist looked, and how close he was, and how romantic this was.

  “Aww,” he said, looking into the end of the bottle. “It’s all gone.”

  She felt both relieved—because she was pretty tipsy—and sad—because it was gone. No more heavenly wine to share with the man of her dreams.

  Rein in those thoughts. Headed down a treacherous road here, Kash.

  She turned her head, stared out at the water, felt her heart beating, saw firelights flicker, nature’s flying lanterns gently lighting up the bushes against the banks, heard the bluesy music, tasted honey and wine and lust. A breeze blew across the lake, and she shivered.

  “Kasha,” Axel murmured, his voice thick and rich.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you cold?”

  “No!” she said, too fast and loud, afraid he would throw an arm around her shoulder to warm her up.

  “I could go get that blanket in your trunk—”

  “I’m fine.” God, the last thing she needed was for him to make a romantic gesture.

  Put an end to this silly drama, and walk away!

  Good plan. She was going for it. She planted her feet firmly on the deck, started to push up.

  “Look.” Axel pointed up. “A shooting star.”

  Kasha raised her face to the sky, followed the beautiful trajectory of the burning star.

  “Make a wish,” he said, his voice a silky husk.

  I wish you’d kiss me.

  Oh fudge, had she actually wished that?

  “What did you wish for?” he asked.

  “What? You want me to tell you and blow my chances of it coming true?”

  “I didn’t take you for the superstitious type.”

  Shows what you know, she thought, and took another sip of wine. “What did you wish for?”

  “My shoulder to heal forthwith.”

  “Forthwith? Where’d you get that? A WWI solider?” Kasha asked, feeling a giggle bubble up from the bottom of her stomach and effervesce into a burp. “Oops.” She grinned and slapped a palm over her mouth. “Excuse me.”

  “I like you this way.”

  “What? Burpy?”

  “Lighter. Freer. Not taking yourself so seriously.”

  “Meaning you don’t really like me when I’m my normal self?”

  “Not at all. I enjoy the many sides of Kasha Carlyle. I just like seeing you relaxed. You deserve to enjoy yourself.”

  “Everyone deserves to relax.”

  “I’m glad you stayed for dinner with me,” he murmured, reaching over to touch her hand again.

  “Me too,” she admitted, even though she probably shouldn’t have. “But I’m going now.”

  “You are?” He sounded disappointed.

  “Yep.”

  “We killed a bottle of wine. You should stay awhile.”

  “It wasn’t a full bottle when we started.”

  “Still, I’ve had too much to drive the Jet Ski back for at least an hour, and I expect you have too. The band is good; it’s a beautiful night.”

  He was right. She hadn’t intended on driving. She’d planned on walking home. Her place was only a couple of miles away. And this was Stardust. The safest place on earth. And someone she knew was bound to stop and give her a ride.

  “I’ll call one of my sisters to come and get me,” she said, dreading that conversation.

&nbs
p; “Why don’t you want to stay?” He ran his thumb over her knuckles.

  “Because I’m too close to crossing a line with you.”

  He leaned in, his voice low and welcoming, his scent distracting. “What line is that?”

  “You know.” She waved a hand. “This patient-therapist line.”

  “Oh that.”

  “Don’t dismiss it. This is my career and integrity we’re talking about here.”

  “We’ve done nothing but share a day on a Jet Ski, a partial bottle of wine, and fajitas.”

  “Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Kasha,” he said, “there’s nothing wrong with sitting here talking.”

  If he knew what was going on inside her head, he would not be saying that. She was not going to tempt fate. She was getting out of here. Kasha set down her glass and got to her feet, but her toe caught on a knothole in the board, and she swayed precariously. Only years of yoga kept her upright, balanced.

  “Steady.” Axel shot to his feet, put out a supporting hand. Touched her elbow. Lit her on fire.

  She yanked her arm away. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

  He was right in front of her, not two inches of space between them, his masculine scent filling up her lungs and addling her brain.

  “You’re sucking all the oxygen from the air,” she said.

  “You’re holding your breath,” he pointed out. “Breathe, Yoga Girl.”

  “I have to go.”

  “So you said.”

  “Thank you for the Jet Ski ride and dinner and the wine, and—”

  “It was your wine.”

  “You poured it.”

  “Um … okay.”

  “And the conversation. Thanks for that too.”

  “Anytime.” He smiled a wistful smile that touched her deep inside.

  His dark eyes cradled hers and she felt something slip inside her, melting, breaking loose. It was scary and thrilling and exhilarating. He paused, stared deeply into her.

  Then he played his trump card. “If you stay,” he said, “I’ll tell you why I didn’t want to be alone today.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Curiosity won.

  “All right,” Kasha agreed, getting her bearings back. She could handle herself.

  “Would you like to walk?” He gestured toward the boardwalk that stretched around the lake from the restaurant, to the marina and beyond.

  “What?”

  “Walk off the food, the wine.”

  The magic.

  Although Kasha wasn’t sure it was possible to walk that off. Or if she even wanted to.

  He took out enough money from his wallet for the meal, plus an extra generous tip, left it on the table, and held out his palm.

  She couldn’t resist sinking her hand in his and allowing him to lead her from the patio dining to the boardwalk, the wooden stairs creaking beneath their feet.

  The summery sound stoked something inside her, and in her mind’s eye, she saw herself as a long-legged girl in a red and white striped one-piece swimsuit, running giggling over these same whitewashed boards, running ahead of her biological parents as they held hands, and stopped regularly to kiss passionately. Anyone seeing would think them the perfect family.

  She breathed in the same briny air, rich with the fragrance of Mexican food, that she’d smelled back then, and her head spun, dizzy from the vivid memories and shifting of the light as the sun completely sank below the horizon.

  “Where did you go?” Axel whispered.

  “How did you know I was off in the past?” Puzzled, Kasha stopped, studied him.

  He reached out to press the flat of his thumb between her eyebrows. “You were thinking so hard that you were frowning.”

  She shook her head, shook out the memories. She wasn’t going to unload her baggage on him. The past was gone, and couldn’t be changed and she didn’t like talking about it. Besides, it was his confession time. “Let’s keep walking.”

  He didn’t pester her for an answer, but he did take her arm again, and even though she should have minded, she didn’t. Decorative ambient lanterns guided their way. On the sandy beach below the boardwalk, couples nuzzled on blankets and beach towels.

  The muscles in her groin clenched, and Kasha averted her gaze, not wanting to stir up sexy feelings for the man beside her.

  “Thank you,” he said gruffly. “For coming out and making a lonely day one of the best days ever. You’ll never know how much today has meant to me.”

  “I …” She gulped, admitted the truth. “It meant a lot to me too.”

  The moon peeked out from behind the clouds. Not a full moon, but almost. Along the banks, bullfrogs croaked a chorus, welcoming nightfall. Kasha noticed they were breathing in tandem, inhaling the musky scent of lake and each other.

  “Now that I’ve stolen your day away,” he said, as they strolled toward the end of the boardwalk, “what are your plans for the evening?”

  “It’s already eight-thirty. Not much of an evening left.” She shook her head, her hair brushing the backs of her arms. She felt a bit wanton with her hair floating loose and free in the breeze.

  “You’re an early-to-bed kind of woman?”

  “Yes. Normally, I’m driving over two hours to get to work at the Gunslingers’ facility. I have to leave at five a.m.”

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s commitment. Why don’t you just move to Dallas?”

  “I’ll move once I get custody of Emma, although I can see that transition is going to take much longer than I anticipated.”

  “Yesterday was a setback.”

  “Eye-opener. I didn’t fully realize how complicated life with Emma would be.”

  “But you still want custody of her?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m not going to abandon her just because she’s got challenges. What kind of person do you take me for?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I know you didn’t. I’m probably too sensitive. Those girls yesterday … well, you were right. I needed a battle plan.”

  “Kids picked on Dylan when he got sick.” Axel’s lips evened out in a tight line. “Human nature can be ugly.”

  “You handled those girls skillfully.”

  “Practice. You’ll get there.”

  “Slowly.”

  “I admire you,” he said.

  “What for?”

  “Not everyone would be willing to make such personal sacrifices for a sister like Emma. Especially a sister they didn’t grow up with.”

  “I don’t consider her a sacrifice. She’s an invitation to joy.”

  “You really do love her.”

  “More than you can know,” Kasha murmured, still surprised by the stark fierceness of the feelings that went through her every time she thought about her half sister. She had no idea how she could love Emma so much in such a short amount of time, but she did.

  “You’ve got a huge heart,” he said. “If you ever need any help with Emma, or just want to talk, I’m here.”

  “Axel, I can’t … we can’t …” She toggled a finger back and forth between them.

  “Do what?”

  “This.”

  “You mean be friends?”

  “Friendship is enough for you?” She rested her back against the wooden railing, looked up into his dark eyes, and saw the answer. No. It wasn’t enough for him. It wouldn’t be enough for her either.

  “Kasha …” His voice cracked, and his hand tightened on her elbow.

  “What was it about today that made you not want to be alone?” she asked, shifting the conversation back to him.

  His eyes darkened, troubled. He hesitated a beat. Two. Three. Moistened his lips. Cleared his throat.

  The air between them thickened, and it had nothing to do with the East Texas humidity.

  “Forget I asked.” She waved a hand like she was shooing a fly. “It’s none of my business.”

  Suddenly, he blurted, “Today would have been Dylan
’s tenth birthday.”

  Her heart torqued, wrung itself out. “Oh, Axel. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  One side of his mouth tilted up in a sad half smile. “Don’t feel sorry for me. For eight years I got to be the dad of the most amazing kid in the world. I understand why you want Emma. I really do. Despite the challenges, she’ll bring a million blessings into your life. Go get her. You won’t ever regret bringing her into your life. I promise you that.”

  “The joy of having Dylan was worth the pain of losing him?”

  He laughed, the sound surprisingly light and joyful. “Yes, oh yes. Life hurts, Kasha. We can’t stop the pain or insulate ourselves from it. But I’m sure you already know that.” He glanced down at her thighs. “That’s why you’re so afraid to take a chance on us. You’re scared of losing it all.”

  “You’re not scared?” she whispered.

  “Hell yes,” he said. “But if we let pain keep us from taking chances, then we’re barely alive, and what’s the point?”

  She stared into him and he stared into her and there was nothing around them but water and sky. They didn’t hear the muted conversations of the other beachgoers. They saw nothing but each other, and she knew they weren’t talking about Emma and Dylan anymore.

  “You’re braver than I am,” she said.

  “No I’m not. I don’t know what happened to you, but I know it was bad.” He dropped his hand, ran a fingertip over the tops of her thighs right where the scars were. “You’re incredibly brave.”

  She inhaled sharply. “You don’t know me.”

  “I do know you,” he insisted. “I know you’re strong mentally, emotionally, and physically. I know you’re kind and loving and hardworking. You’ve got a wry sense of humor, and you’re patient with guys like me who pull bonehead moves like I did with the rebounder. You’ve been hurt badly, but you didn’t let the past define you. I might not know your history, Kasha Carlyle, but I know you.”

  Kasha stopped breathing, stared into those serious eyes that were quickly becoming so essential to her.

  The moment stretched long, and longer still.

  His fingers remained on her thighs. She could feel his body heat through the material of her sundress. Could hear the lapping of the water against the shore, and the sound of a passing party barge heavy with the sounds of laughter, conversations, and the churn of a slow-moving outboard engine.