Love of the Game Page 9

  Keeping his eyes locked on to hers, he moved in so close there wasn’t an inch of space between their bodies. His chest was almost touching her breasts. Breasts unburdened by a bra. His body got even tighter.

  Particularly below the belt. Erection. He was getting a hard-on.

  Quick. Stats. Think of baseball stats. Mentally, Axel started reciting the pitching stats of the greats—Nolan Ryan, Cy Young, Sandy Koufax, Tom Seaver …

  Kasha poked him with her elbow.

  Startled, he yelped. “What was that for?”

  “Just checking to see if you slipped into a coma.” She laughed again.

  The sound made him forget all about Nolan Ryan’s seven no-hitters, his attention focused one hundred percent on the tall, leggy beauty with her hair wrapped in a fluffy towel, and the erection won.

  Surprise claimed her eyes, but only for a moment; she quickly wrangled herself under control and her expression returned to default. Deadpan.

  He broke out in a sweat. They were too damn close and that’s all there was to it. He shifted his hips away from her, but his butt bumped into the vanity. There was nowhere to go.

  “Stuck between a rock and a hard place,” she mumbled so softly he wasn’t sure he actually heard her.

  Axel couldn’t get the Band-Aid on her head fast enough, but in his haste, he stuck part of the adhesive strip on the strand of hair that had escaped her turban.

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry, sorry.” He yanked at the adhesive, but it didn’t unstick.

  “Ow, you’re pulling my hair.” She moved, brushed against his erection. Her eyes rounded. “Oh crap.”

  Panic seized him as his body reacted instinctively to the contact, and his hips rolled against her. “Sorry, sorry.”

  “Stop moving!” she gasped.

  “You stop moving.”

  They both froze, and their eyes met. God, he was nothing but a caricature of a horny jock. Pathetic.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said trying not to sound desperate. “Normal biological reaction. It happens. No big deal.”

  “So—”

  “Ignore it. Ignore me. I’m just going to let you …” He gestured at her temple where the Band-Aid only half covered her wound and the other half stuck in her hair. “Take care of that.”

  Kasha’s lips were pressed together in a straight line, but her eyes were twinkling. She looked amused, and that really flabbergasted him. She thought it was funny that he’d gotten a boner while patching her up?

  “Ah,” she teased, and stared pointedly at his groin. “But who is going to take care of that?”

  Had she actually said that?

  Appalled at herself, Kasha watched Axel hightail it out of the bathroom, his blue jean shorts cupping his splendid butt, the muscles of his legs as hard and strong as that other, wholly masculine muscle that she’d accidentally bumped against.

  Why had she said that?

  Axel.

  He was to blame. He brought out things in her that no one had ever brought out. A wild playfulness she didn’t even know she had. It bothered her. A lot. She was a professional. Here to do a job. She was not going to let sexual attraction screw this up. Her reputation was on the line. Her behavior from here on out could either make or break her career.

  But she needed underwear, and she wanted out of Breeanne’s sundress that was both too small and too skimpy on her. And she had to do something with her hair. Ack! They might as well call it a day and start fresh tomorrow.

  Kasha squared her shoulders, wrapped her wet clothes up in another towel, and went in search of Axel. She found him in the living room, pacing like a caged lion. He stopped the second she came in.

  “Listen,” they both said at once.

  “You go first.” He waved in her direction.

  “No, you.”

  “I insist.”

  She paused. Thought about the best way to handle this embarrassing situation so it would not affect their working relationship. “Repeat after me,” she said, tucking her wet, towel-wrapped laundry under her left arm.

  “Okay.”

  She tapped her chest three times with her right fist. “Cancel, cancel, cancel.”

  “Cancel, cancel, cancel,” he repeated, and copied her hand gestures.

  “Erase, erase, erase.” Using the same fist, she lightly tapped her forehead.

  A bemused Axel followed suit.

  She moved to the crown of her head. “Delete, delete, delete.”

  By the time he finished saying, “Delete, delete, delete,” they were both grinning.

  “Incident gone. Never happened,” she said.

  “Reset switch, huh?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m good with that.”

  “I’m going to go home now,” she said. “Your assignment for the rest of the day is to take it easy. No more rebound pitching. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He looked utterly relieved. “So what went on in the bathroom—”

  “What bathroom?”

  “Gotcha.” He winked.

  But she couldn’t help feeling she was in over her head.

  CHAPTER 8

  On the drive back to her house, her damp clothes in the passenger seat behind her, wet hair pulled up into a soggy ponytail, Kasha tried to convince herself that she and Axel hadn’t almost kissed—twice—in the bathroom of her sister and brother-in-law’s second home.

  That Axel hadn’t gotten an erection, and that she hadn’t accidentally knocked against that impressive hard-on.

  He wanted her.

  The scary thing? She wanted him right back.

  Drumming her fingers on the wheel, she realized she was fidgeting and tried to calm down with slow, deep breathing.

  It didn’t work.

  Her sexual feelings for her client were totally inappropriate. How did she stop feeling them?

  You can’t help what you feel, she told herself. But you can help acting on those feelings.

  Her stomach dipped with the curves in the road. The big question here was could she keep her feelings hidden from him? Yes, he was sexy as all get-out. Yes, he was drop-dead handsome. Yes, all she wanted to do was wrap her legs around his muscular waist and pull him into her.

  Desire recognized. Acknowledged. Dismissed.

  But what if you can’t stay detached, whispered the dark part of her soul.

  What if too much bad DNA ran through her blood? She had never been put to the test. Not since she’d started yoga and learned to sublimate her impulses with devotion to her practice. Not since she’d made a conscious effort not to follow in her biological parents’ footsteps.

  Restlessly, Kasha shifted in the seat, felt her throat burn at the memory of the way Axel had looked at her, his brown eyes as lusty as her dark heart.

  She fiddled with the satellite radio, trying to find music that would tamp down her untamed thoughts. She found a station with soothing spa music, but it only irritated her. She switched to easy listening, but that wasn’t any better. Country music whined tinny in her ears. She punched the search button, trying to find something that was not on her normal presets.

  A hard-driving rock beat poured from the mp3 player, and caught her right in the gut, hard and throbbing and primal. The running drumbeat pulsed hot blood throughout her veins, spreading heat through her body.

  She felt wildly, viciously alive.

  And from where she’d been, that was a very bad thing.

  Terrified, she snapped off the player, and realized she was trembling. What was happening to her? The long-dormant passions she held off for so long roared inside her. Wanting out. Wanting Axel.

  No. No. She would not give in. She would not become like her biological mother. She was stronger than her DNA.

  What to do? What to do? Quit her job? Considering her growing feelings for Axel, that was the smart thing.

  But if she walked away from this assignment, she’d lose her position with the Gunslingers. Truman Beck had been adamant a
bout that, and Rowdy wouldn’t be able to do anything to save her.

  And if she lost her job, she’d have to wait to get custody of Emma, at least until she paid down her mountain of school loans. Years. It could take years.

  Loneliness, the kind of which she hadn’t felt in over two decades, walloped her. She thought of how elated she’d been to discover she had a sister. How amazed at the instant love she’d felt for Emma from the first moment she saw her. How her immediate impulse had been to move heaven and earth to take care of this vulnerable, motherless girl. How deep down, she’d found a glimmer of hope that she could finally make amends for what her biological mother had done.

  She knew what it was like to be completely alone in the world, and what a desolate feeling! But the love of the Carlyle family had changed the course of her life, and that was what she wanted to do for Emma.

  Without even knowing she meant to do it, Kasha didn’t go straight home to shower and change, but instead drove to the house at the corner of Moonglow and Pearl. She wouldn’t go in. She hadn’t called ahead, and besides, she wasn’t wearing underwear.

  She stopped at the curb.

  She’d been doing this a lot lately. Sitting outside a house, working up the courage to go in. What was going on with her? Six weeks ago things had been so easy, so ordinary, so worry-free.

  She thought yoga was the answer to all her problems. That she’d conquered her insecurities, gotten a handle on her troubled emotions; that she could survive any challenge with dignity and grace.

  And then she found out about Emma, and everything shifted.

  Restlessly, her fingers stroked the steering wheel. She forced herself to stop, pressed her palms together in front of her heart, slowed her breathing, and whispered a healing mantra.

  Some of the residents of the group home were in the side yard, which was fenced with decorative black wrought iron, playing basketball on an asphalt driveway court. Emma had the ball and she was double dribbling full-out on her way to the basket. Her sweet face was turned up to the sun, a magnificent smile on her face. She was fully in the moment, fully alive.

  Looking at her half sister, those sloppy, soppy, messy feelings of love swamped Kasha. “Sister,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

  Get out of here before Emma sees you.

  She was about to slide the Prius into drive when her cell phone rang. Kasha fished it from her purse, already freaking out that it might be Axel. She wasn’t ready to talk to him.

  But it wasn’t.

  At the sight of Howard Johnson’s name on the caller ID, Kasha exhaled loudly and answered. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Carlyle?” His voice was clipped, professional, but underneath she heard something else. Concern? Censure?

  “Yes?” Kasha rubbed her chin, and watched Emma block another resident from making a basket. Atta girl.

  “I’ve gotten permission for you to take Emma Cantu home with you for two days.”

  Kasha caught her breath.

  “Ms. Carlyle? You there?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m here.”

  “Have you changed your mind about seeking custody of your half sister?”

  She looked across the street at darling Emma. The girl had wandered away from the game to pluck a dandelion from the yard. Emma blew on it, and giggled as the dandelion seeds scattered in the air. How innocent. How pure.

  Kasha’s chest tightened. “No.”

  “You’re certain you want to move forward?” His tone stiffened, starchy and dry. He disapproved.

  “How many times do I have to say it for you to believe me? I want custody of my handicapped sister.”

  “It’s not that I don’t believe you.”

  “What then?”

  He hesitated, said, “A close friend of mine has a child with Down syndrome. It’s not an easy road you’ve chosen.”

  “I didn’t choose this path,” Kasha said. “The path chose me.”

  Howard Johnson made a noise she couldn’t quite decipher, part respect, part you-have-no-idea-what-you’re-in-for.

  “It’s just not very often I see an attractive single woman willing to stunt her own life in order to take care of a handicapped sibling she didn’t even know existed. You’re a rare bird, Ms. Carlyle.”

  He didn’t understand how Kasha’s parents had already condemned her to a stunted life, and Emma was actually her salvation. Caring for her sister was a way to right her parents’ wrongs, to do something noble, to soothe the wounds tragedy had flayed.

  Heal herself. Make amends.

  “Well then,” he said. “Let’s schedule a weekend for you to take Emma. The best time for the Bankses is either the Sunday and Monday of Memorial Day weekend or the last weekend in June,” Howard Johnson said. “Do either of those work for you?”

  “Sooner rather than later. I prefer Memorial Day.”

  “All right. I’ll call the Bankses to confirm and I’ll get back to you with the arrangements.”

  “Thank you.” Kasha switched off her phone, and shifted her attention back to Emma, who was spinning around in a circle, her arms outstretched, laughing for all she was worth.

  And Kasha felt a joy unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Her sister.

  Her destiny.

  Her salvation.

  Her redemption.

  After the pool incident, Kasha grew more guarded. Axel couldn’t blame her. Things had gotten out of hand. He expected her to back off. What he hadn’t expected was his reaction. He wanted her even more than he had before.

  You only want her because you can’t have her. It’s just the thrill of the chase that’s got you amped up.

  Yeah. Maybe. He hoped so. That explanation worked for him. He was in control here, not his dick. As long as Kasha was his therapist, absolutely nothing was going to happen between them.

  End of story.

  But all his good intentions flew out the window whenever she massaged him, and he started thinking those treacherous thoughts again. The day after they’d almost kissed they kept personal conversation to a minimum, focusing on the task at hand, and after that they managed to get things on a professional keel. At least on the surface.

  The rest of the week passed in a reassuring sameness. They did gentle yoga in the mornings, and then Kasha put him through his paces with specific free weight exercises targeted for his shoulder, and general cardio, followed by a swim in the pool or the lake, and ending with a guided meditation underneath the pine trees.

  With each passing day, Axel felt himself grow stronger, his range of motion increasing, but more than that, he felt calmer, healthier. Kasha’s prescription of gentle exercise and lots of R&R seemed to be working. He was ready to get back on the field. In just a week, his mind had shifted from defeated to hopeful.

  And it was all because of her.

  On Thursday, May twenty-sixth, it was time for him to check back in with the Gunslingers. Axel knew his shoulder was more supple, and there was definitely improvement in his pain level, but Dr. Harrison’s examination would prove if the gains were actually measurable.

  He and Kasha could have driven to Dallas together, but since Axel didn’t know if he’d be returning to Stardust or not, he packed up his belongings just in case, and they took separate vehicles.

  Axel didn’t realize how tense he was until he met up with Kasha in the employee parking lot of Gunslinger Stadium, and she took one look at him, smiled gently, and whispered, “Breathe.”

  Uncanny, the way she could read him.

  She breathed with him, four slow deep inhales, holding their breath to the count of seven, exhaling for the count of eight. It was surprisingly intimate.

  His body loosened as his lungs emptied.

  “Feel better?” she asked when they’d done ten rounds.

  “Yeah.” He pinned her with his gaze, felt his blood churn.

  She rubbed her palms together briskly, her smile slipping a little at the corners. “Let’s do this.”

  Once they were inside,
Kasha waited in the corner of the examination room with the usual entourage, including Rowdy and Truman Beck. Dr. Harrison moved toward him to begin the exam, but Axel raised a palm and shifted his gaze to the general manager. “There’s something I want to say before we get started.”

  Beck grunted. “What’s that?”

  “Right here, right now, no matter what the outcome, I want you to promise me you won’t fire Kasha. If the therapy didn’t work, it was totally my fault. There were many times over this past week that I didn’t follow her instructions.”

  Beck folded his arms over his chest and shot a glance over at Kasha, who was her usual cool, serene self.

  God, Axel wished he had her self-control. She was amazing.

  Beck said nothing for a long moment.

  Ah crap, was the GM going to balk?

  Finally, Beck nodded curtly at Kasha. “Agreed.”

  Kasha’s face didn’t change, but her shoulders dipped in a move so slight he was sure no one else noticed her relief.

  “And, if I have improved,” Axel went on, feeling pretty damn confident he had improved thanks to Kasha, “you’ll live up to your promise, take her off probation, and give her the raise and health insurance she’d got coming as a permanent employee.”

  “You certainly wound him up,” Beck said to Kasha. “I hope this cockiness is a good sign.”

  Kasha lifted her chin confidently, and her confidence fed his. “Axel’s worked very hard to do what was necessary to heal his shoulder.”

  Damn, he loved the way she said his name.

  He winked at her, but she didn’t wink back, and he was left feeling as if he’d thrown a pitch to a batter who hadn’t bothered swinging.

  Dr. Harrison poked and prodded, measured and tested his muscle strength and shoulder rotation with both high-tech and low-tech methods, offered only noncommittal grunts and pensive hmms.

  Every time Axel felt himself tensing, he would glance across the room at Kasha and catch her gaze and remember to breathe slowly and deeply, and he would feel his body loosen with each measured breath.

  She was the calm at the bottom of the ocean—deep, silent, undisturbed. Whenever he peered hard into her unwavering brown eyes, Axel felt himself pulled below the surface to a place he had not been before, a deep and comforting place full of hope and light.