Long Relief (Hardball 1)

Passengers were still boarding, so he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked his email. He took a breath before opening the message he’d already gone over and over what seemed like a hundred times. Jake Frankel, formerly a player with the Bengals, now managed the Charlotte Gators. He’d suggested Chris as a replacement for their retiring pitching coach. It should have been exciting to Chris, but after so many years in Michigan, he didn’t look forward to packing up his life and moving down south.

And it has nothing to do with Maggie, he reminded himself firmly. It didn’t, because it couldn’t. Only an idiot would turn down a good job offer because he was holding out for a woman who had no interest in a relationship, and Chris was no idiot. He was, however, perpetually distracted by the thought of those golden blonde curls and her tight little body. And her blistering competitive banter. And her sense of humor.

He didn’t meet someone like Maggie every day.

He’d never met anyone like Maggie.

Most of the guys on the team were married. If they weren’t, they definitely took advantage of the panty-dropping power of a well-timed, “I play professional baseball.” The girls who hung around the park after games weren’t usually looking for more than an autograph and a fun night; it was the models and the friends-of-a-friend a guy really had to watch out for. It had been years since Chris had spent serious time with a woman without feeling like he was wearing a big, dollar-sign shaped target on his back. But Maggie probably made more in a year than he did in an entire contract.

It was nice to know what she wasn’t after, but it still left a lot of questions as to what she was after. He didn’t mind being friends, but he didn’t know why she would need a player as a friend. That could be as messy and complicated as sleeping with him.

What had she done to him? He’d slept with her once, and he was ready to turn down a legit offer from another organization because it would take him away from her. What kind of sick infatuation had he come down with? Maggie had seemed pretty certain that this was Chris’s last year with the Bengals. Tenuous friendship or not, he couldn’t come right out and ask her, at the beginning of the season, to force a decision on next season, especially when he wasn’t sure his arm was up to another contract, anyway. It would be beyond stupid to pass up even an informal offer of employment.

He opened a text message and quickly tapped out, “I’ll be back in town tonight. Dinner?”

He’d just reached to turn off his phone when it buzzed with Maggie’s reply.

“Can’t. Dinner with Morgan.”

Chris sucked in a breath.

Casey Morgan. General manager of the team. A former heavy hitter from the days of THG, still in ridiculous shape for his age, probably dyed his hair. The guy wore too much cologne and very expensive shoes. He was exactly the type of guy Maggie should be going out with.

“Sir?” The flight attendant leaned down slightly when she spoke to him like he was a child. “The aircraft door is closed, I’m going to have to ask you to turn off your device.”

“Yeah, no problem.” First, though, he flipped back to the email and hit reply. His “I’ll take it,” was headed to Charlotte before the plane taxied onto the runway.

* * * *

The restaurant was gorgeous, the food was fantastic. The subject matter was making Maggie’s stomach sour.

Seated across from her, her general manager had his dark head bent over his iPad, frowning. “And he’s just not getting better. Ken doesn’t like revisiting this type of thing so early in the season, but the guy is just not getting better, and now with this tendon… we probably need to prepare him for the reality that when he comes off the DL, he’s not coming back to us.”

“We’re farming him out,” she stated, taking a sip of water. While many of the young players had dreams of glory, not everyone could go down in the record books. Sending this kid back to the minors would be a blow to his pride and a massive disappointment. Maggie had a long familiarity with the realities of the business, but she’d never built up calluses to watching people’s dreams die.

“Call it ‘player development’. He’s young. We could always pull him if he improves.” Casey gave her an encouraging smile. “Look, it sounds cold-hearted—”

“No, not all.” It wasn’t like she had to be the bad guy. “I trust you to do your job.”

“Good.” Casey looked back down to the tablet, brow furrowed as he moved his finger around the screen. “Because I have my eye on someone for next season. From Nippon. You have to see this guy hit—”