Brad jerked his locker open and grunted. “He doesn’t have a chance in hell.” Truth was, the bet had long since been won. Too bad he couldn’t tell anyone.
“Because you already won, right?”
“Stop digging. That’s a reporter’s job.”
Amanda’s laughter filled the air, wreaking havoc on his nerves. Brad glanced over at her, taking in the way her face lit up as Becker talked, as if whatever he said was really interesting.
“Sure looks like Becker’s giving it a rookie try,” Kurt said, twisting the proverbial knife. “Maybe he’s going for a tie.”
“Cut it out, Kurt. I’m not in the mood.” He grabbed a towel. “I’m going to take a shower.” Before he spewed the curses he’d been biting back.
A few dodged reporters later, Brad stepped beneath the hot spray, hoping to escape the scurry of activity and pull himself together. But there was no escaping tonight. Becker stepped into the stall next to him, on the hunt for a fight.
“Damn man, Amanda is hotter than hot,” he said. “I’m going to thoroughly enjoy winning this bet.”
Brad suppressed his claim of victory. If he heard Becker call her hotter than hot one more time, he might throttle him. He so wanted to make sure Becker never went near Amanda again.
In his current mood, Brad was a ticking bomb that needed to be far away from Becker, and he knew it. He turned off the flow of water and wrapped the towel around his waist. But he couldn’t walk away without saying something. “You should concentrate on throwing the ball into the mitt, kid,” Brad said. “Because if you keep pitching the way you did tonight, you won’t be around long enough to get Amanda in bed.”
He left, humming over Becker’s yelled retort. Brad made it to the main room only to be cornered by some guy wearing a bow tie and a press pass from the opposing team’s home paper.
“Was that Casey Becker yelling at you in there? That have anything to do with that fight you two had back in Ohio?”
“It wasn’t a fight,” Brad mumbled, and tried to sidestep and retreat.
The guy blocked his move. “Looked like a fight to me.”
Brad was losing his patience. “Okay, then. It was fight.”
Success flashed in the guy’s beady eyes. “I thought so. What were you fighting about?”
The coach walked out of his office, propping a shoulder on the door frame. His eyes locked with Brad’s, a silent warning evident in his expression.
Brad turned back to the reporter. “Why’d we fight? The kid likes Pepsi. Me, I’m a Coke guy.” He shrugged. “What can I say? We ballplayers get pretty intense about our cola.”
Coach let out a roar of laughter, and relief rushed over Brad. He maneuvered around the less-than-pleased reporter, this time with success. Inwardly, he kicked himself for stepping in the line of fire, even though he’d averted disaster. Did he need reminding how important avoiding trouble was to his contract renewal?
And that trouble included Amanda. The thought only served to rekindle his foul mood.
***
LONG AFTER the game ended, Amanda waited near Tony’s car, Reggie by her side. She was ready to clear the air with Tony. Ready to put this Laura issue to bed and open communication with him again. Maybe she’d even be lucky enough to get a quote about tonight’s home run.
There was just one problem. When Tony appeared, he wasn’t alone. Brad and Kurt flanked him.
Fine. Amanda had to face not one, but three, very big, very intense ballplayers. Judging from the scowls they wore, they weren’t pleased to see her.
She tried to resist squirming beneath their glares. Of all the eyes upon her, the ones who dealt her the most discomfort were Brad’s. She could feel his scrutiny scorch her skin. But she refused to look at him. Refused to forget that this meeting was about Tony, not Brad. She would not be deterred from her goal.
“Showtime,” Reggie said. “How do you want to play this?”
Amanda pushed off her rental car, which she’d moved to this parking lot. Her purse was on her shoulder and she left her notepad inside. She wanted to keep this easygoing and off-the-record.
“Solo, but don’t go anywhere. I need the moral support.”
Reggie winked. “I’ll be here.”
Walking toward Tony’s red Porsche, Amanda noted how different he was from Brad and Kurt. While the other two men wore jeans and T-shirts, Tony sported designer pants and an expensive button-down shirt. Brad’s good ol’ boy quality was nowhere to be found with Tony. Everything from Tony’s attitude to his car seemed to scream big city and big money.
Amanda’s hope that Brad and Kurt would go their way and leave her alone with Tony proved to be unfounded.
“Hi, guys,” Amanda said, waving her hand then focusing on Tony. “I wanted to talk to you.” She paused. “Alone.”