Текст книги "The Heat of the Moment"

Автор книги: Katie Rose

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Epilogue

Jessica was in the PT room, watching the game on TV. She could tell Pete was giving the team his pep talk. Even though she couldn’t hear him, she knew this speech by heart:

“Okay, I don’t want to make you nervous. But you boys all know that this last inning is critical. If we win, we make it to the World Series. But if we lose…”

They were playing Washington, and the score was tied at six. Every member of the team wanted this badly. They had battled their way back after the All-Star break, when they had been written off by the press and everyone else.

But they hadn’t managed to get any more numbers on the board since a disruptive third inning. And now, at the top of the ninth, they would either move on to the tenth or win in spectacular style.

She was supposed to be rehabbing a young pitcher, but she couldn’t help it. She stopped what she was doing, mesmerized by the game. Phil was beside her in a second, and as he turned up the sound, all of the injured patients watched as well.

The top of the order was up, and Jake walked to the plate as casually as if strolling along a hiking trail. The applause was thunderous, but as he took a stance at the plate, obligingly kicking dirt all over it, the noise died until the ballpark grew stunningly quiet.

“Strike!” The umpire made the call to a succession of boos. The New Jersey crowd had reason for displeasure; they hadn’t been getting the calls, and the fastball was borderline. But Jake seemed unperturbed, still kicking and blurring the lines around the batting box.

The pitcher, a young reliever for the Nationals, smirked confidently as Jake finally raised his bat. This time a slider crossed the plate, and the shortstop nailed it with a line drive into the hole. As the first baseman scrambled for it, Jake got to the base with an ease that made it look effortless.

The pitcher shot him a look of disgust amid the roar of the crowd, and Jake grinned, shrugging as if to say he couldn’t help himself.

Furious, the reliever ground the ball into his hand, and then threw a sick curveball to Brian. The Sonics batter swung himself into knots as the umpire called the strike. It happened again on the second pitch, and this time the stadium grew silent. Pete signaled Brian, and he bunted the third pitch.

The third baseman and the pitcher hesitated for a deadly moment, stunned when they realized that Jake was headed for second, while Brian lumbered to first. By the time they scrambled for the ball, it was too late. The first two players in the batting order had done what they were supposed to do: get on base. And while it hadn’t happened in a pretty fashion, at the end of the day the Sonics had two men on and no outs.

The manager for the Washington team had seen enough and decided to make a switch. The reliever stormed off the mound as his replacement appeared, the team closer, a man with an almost perfect record. He warmed up with a few throws to the catcher, obviously confident about defeating the Sonics pitcher.

But when the next batter strode up to the plate, it wasn’t Derek. Pete had taken him out of the game and was utilizing his pinch hitter.

Gavin.

Jessica gasped, her heart in her throat. This was it: this was what they had been preparing for since the first day Gavin walked into the therapy room. Phil stood beside her as the heavy hitter walked up to the plate, his handsome face expressionless. Was he excited, scared, or worried that his leg might give out at a critical moment?

If he was, it didn’t show. And unlike Jake, who seem to toy with the pitcher by kicking the sand and grinning, or Brian, who glared at his opponent as if daring him to do his worst, Gavin was the epitome of cool. He simply assumed his position, those glittering dark eyes missing nothing as he held his arms in position, waiting for the ball.

The first pitch was low and outside. Gavin barely moved, but simply let the slider drop behind him, the catcher scrambling to contain it as the umpire called a ball. He didn’t pound the plate, or react in any other way except to wait. Jessica and Phil exchanged an anxious glance, but the batter just stared at the pitcher as if doing a mind meld, knowing what would happen next.

The curveball that followed was a called strike, but again Gavin didn’t react. The pitcher smirked and strutted like a rooster, and the only reaction he got out of the hitter was Gavin stretching out his limbs. When the show was over, and the ballpark silent, Gavin once more assumed his position and waited.

A fastball scorched through the air, but the Nationals pitcher didn’t even see Gavin make contact. There was a loud crack and the ball smoked across the field, and then dropped into the bullpen. By the time he realized what had happened, Jake was home, Brian right behind him, and Gavin strode around the bases in a walk-off home run.

They’d won the game.

“Did you see that?” Phil cried, turning to Jessica, who threw herself into his arms. “Oh my God, we are back in the game. The Sonics are going to the World fucking Series!”

The thrill that raced through Jessica left her breathless, and for once speechless. Her heart throbbed with pride as her guy, Gavin King, was surrounded by his teammates and drowned in Champagne. The applause was deafening, and when the reporters shoved a microphone in front of him, the hero of the day, he refused to accept the accolades.

“This was a team effort. No one man won this game. I am proud and happy to be a part of the Sonics. They are a great group of guys, and this has been an incredible year.”

“But how do you feel, having left California? This must have been quite a change.”

It was obvious the reporter expected him to be noncommittal. After all, having regained his health, Gavin could go anywhere.

“It was,” Gavin admitted, drying his face with a towel just as Cody rushed up behind him and doused him once more. He grinned through a veil of dripping wine. “And I have to admit, in the beginning it was hard. But now, I love where I am. New Jersey is a great place to live, and this is a great group of guys. But most of all,” he looked directly at the camera, “I met the love of my life here, Jessica Hart.”

A female reporter was all over it. “Isn’t she your physical therapist?”

“Yes. She not only got me back to health, but helped me remember the reason I’m here, while the Sonics rekindled the joy of the game. As it turns out, this move changed my life, definitely for the better.”

Phil looked at her, as Jessica’s eyes filled and she bit her lower lip in emotion. Gavin had just told the nation that he loved her, and loved being here with this team.

It didn’t get any better than that.

–

While they didn’t win the World Series in 2014, the Sonics made it to the last game. Pete wasn’t disappointed: as he told the media after the loss, they were now in prime position to contend the following year. They had Chase; Jake, who had just gotten engaged; and Gavin, who was healthy.

Popping his gum, he grinned at the camera. 2015 would be the Sonics’ year.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Erin Bosler, who within five minutes can save me from myself. And Gail Fortune, who believed in me from the get-go.

BY KATIE ROSE Boys of Summer

Bring on the Heat

Too Hot to Handle

The Heat of the Moment

The Heat Is On (forthcoming)

Appleton Sisters

A Hint of Mischief

Courting Trouble

Mistletoe and Magic (novella)

Other Books

A Case for Romance

Runaway Hearts

PHOTO: © KOVATCH PHOTOGRAPHY

Award-winning historical author KATIE ROSE makes her contemporary debut with the Boys of Summer novels, Bring on the Heat and Too Hot to Handle, which combine Katie’s true loves: baseball and romance! When not watching baseball, Katie is at her lake house in New Jersey, hard at work on her next book.

colleenquinn.net/katierose.php

The Editor’s Corner

As the seasonal colors change with the leaves on the trees, so does our lineup of new Loveswept romances…and we’re sure you’ll love them all!

Adore MC romances? You’ll love Rachael Johns’s Fire Me Up. Sports fans won’t want to miss New York Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett’s Cold Fury Hockey series continuing with Ryker and debut author Sophia Henry introduces her Pilot’s Hockey series with Delayed Penalty. Then it’s off the ice with Samantha Kane’s new NFL title, Broken Play. Baseball fans everywhere will want the next in the Boys of Summer series by Katie Rose, The Heat of the Moment, while readers who devour MMA stories will go for Loveswept debut author Sarah Robinson’s Breaking a Legend. And if your taste for fighters is not squelched just yet, Raven by Suzanne Ashley has a twist that will shock you and yet melt your heart—prepare yourself for an emotional ride.

For those sports enthusiasts who take to the slopes, Extreme Risk’s next installment, Slashed, by New York Times bestselling author Tracy Wolff is here! Fabulously fun and flirty author Cassie Mae begins a new series, All About Love, that will have you laughing out loud, then sniffling, maybe both at the same time with the first book, Doing It for Love. Lastly, a sexy regency historical novella from Lavinia Kent, part of her Bound and Determined series, Sarah’s Surrender.

All affordably priced and found wherever eBooks are sold, Loveswepts are stories you’ll always remember and that can be easily stored on your digital shelves to be read over and over again. Until next time…

Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

Read on for an excerpt from The Heat Is On A Boys of Summer Novel

by Katie Rose

Available from Loveswept

Prologue

“Come on, Cody! Hit the damn ball!”

Cody Jones, catcher for the New Jersey Sonics, kicked at the dirt in the batting box. This was going to be their year; he could feel it. Everything was in place to ensure success. Chase Westbrook, their ace pitcher, was having a phenomenal season. Jake Baldwin, the shortstop who had just stolen second base and was eyeing up third, was on a tear. And right behind him batting cleanup was Gavin King, the heavy hitter they’d acquired last year from the Dodgers after an injury. Gavin was batting a solid .320, and he gave the catcher a quiet grin from the dugout as thirty thousand fans cheered from the stands.

“Cody! Cody! Cody!”

The pitcher, a young kid with a scruff of red beard sticking defiantly out from his chin, leaned back and threw a slider. Cody knew it immediately by the way his opponent handled the ball. He didn’t swing, but stepped back and allowed it to fall to the left of the plate.

Ball three.

Come on, Cody thought. I’m not swinging at that weak-ass cheese. Bring on the heat!

He’d get the pitch now, the one he’d been waiting for. Another ball and he would walk, and with Gavin coming up behind him and Jake itching for third, there was no way in hell this kid would risk that. So Cody waited as the applause grew thunderous, lifted the bat, and positioned himself for the fastball.

But instead of crossing the plate, the 95-mile-an-hour pitch came directly at him and smashed his right hand. Pain shot through his fingers as the bat fell helplessly to the dirt. Grimacing, he trotted to first, feeling the shattered bones beneath his fingers.

His hand was broken. The batting coach looked at him questioningly, but he shook his head. Furious, he glared at the pitcher as he hid the excruciating discomfort, knowing what this meant.

He was going on the DL.

So when Gavin stepped up and effortlessly tagged a wild pitch and sent it soaring over the fence, bringing them all home, Cody tried to share in the explosion of joy as the fans screamed wildly. But as he entered the dugout, his hand throbbing, he could see the swelling starting already.

It was June and he was done, maybe for the season.

Maybe forever.

Chapter One

He was home.

Connor Jackson stepped off the charter plane at the Philadelphia airport. A tired-looking man with a Phillies cap barely looked up from the information booth, and when asked where to pick up a rental car, he simply shrugged and pointed to a sign that said GROUND TRANSPORTATION.

The men’s room was less than desirable, and although the airport had recently added quite a few shops and restaurants, it wasn’t the gleaming perfect facilities that he’d seen in other states like Minnesota, with iPads on every table and the retail help all bearing permanent smiles.

But Connor didn’t care. Even when a woman dressed in head-to-toe Spandex pushed him out of the way to get her bag, he had to smile. This was, after all, Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Shove.

And it was real.

Pausing at the newsstand for a local paper, he proffered his two dollars in exchange for The Philadelphia Inquirer. The cashier glanced up at him and gave him a broad smile.

“Say, aren’t you that new pitcher coming to New Jersey?” When he nodded, she slapped her hand on the countertop with fingers lifted as if impressed, careful not to break her gel nails. “Damn. I knew it! Wait till my peeps here this.” Immediately she got on her cellphone to tweet.

Tucking the newspaper under his arm, he made his way to the rental car waiting outside. The young guy standing beside the vehicle greeted him as if he’d known him forever.

“Hey, Con Man! I heard you were coming to the Sonics!” The man even knew his nickname. As he opened the door with a flourish, he continued his chatter. “Glad to have you here. That was rough, what happened to Jonesy.”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t surprised that the man knew every detail of the trade. After all, this was Philadelphia. “No one ever likes to think of a player getting hurt. Especially someone as talented as Cody Jones.”

The driver refused to let Connor handle his own luggage but insisted on placing it carefully in the trunk as if it was filled with precious cargo. Connor didn’t want to disillusion him that the bag contained his new uniform, tee-shirts, and underwear.

“That pitcher hit him on purpose,” his new friend expounded passionately, his face getting red at the thought. “He knew his bat was hot. Probably thought if he could just get rid of him, and somehow deal with Gavin, he’d be a hero. Asshole.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t tell him that it was very unlikely that the catcher was deliberately hurt; he wasn’t up for the animated argument that would follow. Instead he slid into the passenger seat as the car battled its way out of the airport.

“By the way, my name is Joey Angelino.” The man thrust out his hand and shook Connor’s before giving him a fist pump. “So I gotta know. Why’d you come here instead of New York?”

Connor grinned, hearing the pride in the man’s voice and utter awe. Even though Philadelphia was recently rated by U.S. News as one of the best places to visit, it still retained an inferiority complex due to its proximity to Gotham City and the White House, both just a train ride away.

“I’m originally from this area. I started with the Sonics. Thought it would be nice to finish here, in New Jersey.”

He didn’t want to tell him that leaving Arizona wasn’t entirely his choice. Management had approached him and told him the organization wanted to make a change. Connor had a lot of respect for Chip Hale, and he could tell the man was genuinely upset at having to convey this message. He said all the right things about him being an asset to the club and a good influence in the locker room. But they had a kid coming up from AAA who was not only a decent catcher, but they could have him for peanuts while Connor was still considered a desirable player to trade.

They’d offered him a couple of choices, but when he suggested the Sonics, they were able to negotiate something quickly and now he was on his way.

“But you are retiring, right?” The man swiveled his head, and a horn blared behind them. He ignored it.

“Yeah. This is my last year. The Diamondbacks are a great ball club, but they are probably not going to be in contention this season. They are rebuilding, so my agent advised me to try and get on a team that has a chance to get into the playoffs.”

It was a well–practiced speech, and it seemed to do the trick. As they pulled into the rental agency, the driver thrust out his hand. “We are damned glad to have you here.”

Connor climbed into the driver’s seat, and before he drove off, Joey shook his hand once more.

“Good luck, Cuz. I’ll be watching.”

As he drove off, he thought about what he had said to the driver. It was true he’d wanted to finish his career here, where he’d grown up. And he wanted his final season to be fun. If there’s one thing he knew about the New Jersey team, they were a bunch of pranksters who didn’t take the game too seriously. And although it hadn’t been announced yet, the team was about to acquire a new starting pitcher, a guy named Carlos Morales, who happened to be one of the first players he’d caught and subsequently one of his best friends. Carlos had messaged him on Twitter, and was looking forward to playing together again. He would have a blast, and hopefully end his career with a World Series ring.

But as he entered his rented townhouse, he knew he’d come back for more than just the game. While baseball had been his life, he had gotten to the point where he wanted more than that. He had the trophies, the news clippings, the accolades. Now he wanted more: A real home. A wife.

Tracy Coleman. Her married name was Carter, but she would always be Coleman to him.

Glancing at his phone, he saw her Facebook image, a bouquet of roses. That made him smile—she always was not only beautiful, but a romantic.

He thought back to their first date, when she was all long blond hair, a white Monroe dress, and heels. She was a girly-girl, and never left the dorm room without makeup and earrings, but he liked that about her, the glamour and femininity. She was his first true love, and he’d never forgotten her. She’d married, of course, and that, he thought, was that.

Until he saw online that her status was now single…

As he walked into the gleaming designer kitchen and tossed his keys on the quartz countertop, he made up his mind. Not only would he do everything he could to help the Sonics go all the way this year, but he was getting back his girl.

And when Connor Jackson set his mind to something, he succeeded.

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By authors you’ll always remember

eOriginal Romance from Random House

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