They’ve both got their eye on the prize

Sports agent Samantha Baker needs an epic comeback after the disaster that destroyed her career. Just one client, and she’ll prove she can do this thing again. And that one client has to be Evan Tanner. A late-blooming rookie with talent for the record books, Evan’s got everything it takes.

And, sure, Evan can win on the field, but winning over Samantha is a whole other ball game. She’s been hurt personally and professionally, so just one lie will strike him out for good. So while Sam’s intent on the major league, Evan won’t give up on an even bigger prize: the trust of this woman he loves.

“You’re a knight in shining armor, aren’t you? Ready to save the damsel in distress.”

“If you’ll let me.”

Sam chuckled. “Evan, trust me, I’m not a damsel and if I did need saving, I’d do it myself. Just be there on time. I’ll pick out the outfit I want you to wear.” She started to walk away toward her own car. That sleek ice-blue Mercedes that reminded him of her.

Evan scowled. “I’m not some damn doll to be dressed up,” he called after her.

“No, you’re a client who I want to make sure is dressed and looking appropriate for his first public appearance.”

“I don’t like red!” he shouted even as she was opening her car door.

She waved back. “I don’t care.”

Yeah, Evan thought as he watched her drive away, hiring her was both the best and worst decision he’d ever made.

Dear Reader,

Well, this is it. The final book in The Bakers of Baseball series. It has been so much fun writing these books. I know I’m going to miss Minotaur Falls and baseball.

I have to confess I absolutely love baseball movies. In my opinion you don’t even have to love baseball to love baseball movies. These books have been my tribute to every baseball movie I have ever loved.

In this final chapter, we meet Samantha and Evan, who were introduced in Scout’s Honor, and being able to take their story from one book to the next was also a thrill. Sam and Evan don’t have the easiest time finding their way to a happy ending, but of course it wouldn’t be a story if they didn’t!

I hope, if you’ve read the series, you’ve enjoyed the Baker women as much as I have. I love to hear from readers, so please feel free to contact me at www.stephaniedoyle.net, on Facebook or on Twitter, @stephdoylerw.

Stephanie

Betting on the Rookie

Stephanie Doyle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

STEPHANIE DOYLE, a dedicated romance reader, began to pen her own romantic adventures at age sixteen. She began submitting to Harlequin at age eighteen and by twenty-six her first book was published. Fifteen years later, she still loves what she does, as each book is a new adventure. She lives in South Jersey with her cat, Hermione, the designated princess of the house. When Stephanie’s not reading or writing, in the summer she is most likely watching a baseball game and eating a hot dog.

For Wanda

Contents

COVER

BACK COVER TEXT

INTRODUCTION

Dear Reader

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

PROLOGUE

“RICHARD, TELL ME again you didn’t do this thing.”

Samantha sat behind the desk in her office and continued to read the Tweets on her phone even as she waited for the person in front of her to prove he couldn’t be guilty of what he’d been accused.

She knew Richard. She’d followed him his entire college career and was the first to call him when he committed to the NFL draft. She’d sat down with his family, she’d talked to ex-girlfriends, former teachers. Everyone had glowing things to say about him.

Who didn’t love Richard Stanson, the all-American quarterback?

Samantha prided herself on having a small close-knit clientele. These weren’t just people she represented; they were people she knew. Her entire business model was built on the idea that trust was the number one component of each and every relationship.

They had to trust her with their careers, their compensation, and she had to trust that she was working for the right people. Good people who understood what it meant to be not just an athlete, but a professional. It wasn’t just about the money for her. It hadn’t been since she’d left Barkley Partners to go it alone.

She wanted to be an agent on her terms. She wanted only the best kind of clients, and she wanted to make sure she did right by all of them.

Richard had been one of her first major wins. Everyone wanted him, but he chose her because he said he trusted her the most. He’d legitimized her agency. He’d legitimized her.

If an all-American quarterback didn’t have a problem with a woman as an agent, then who would?

“Sam, I didn’t do it.”

Samantha closed her eyes. He looked so earnest. Sometimes she forgot he was only twenty-six. Still, in many ways, just a kid playing a game.

“Come on, you have to believe me,” he said again, putting his hands on her desk. He had immediately flown to Chicago when the story had been about to break. He said it was because he wanted her to hear his side first, and he wanted to do it in person, so she could see his face when he told her.

Too late about getting to her first.

Social media was already beginning to tear down America’s quarterback. Guilty before even having a chance to say he was innocent.

Samantha’s phone had been buzzing frantically all morning. His sponsors would want constant updates. She didn’t blame them, not when the man whose face was on so many of America’s favorite products had just been accused of hitting a woman and knocking her down a flight of stairs.

“I’ve been with you for four years,” he told her. “You know what kind of person I am. You have to.”

Samantha stopped reading the Tweets and set her phone aside for now. She looked into his eyes, really looked into them as she tried to evaluate whether or not he could be that good a liar.

He sounded innocent. He looked innocent.

In the four years he’d been her client nothing like this had come out before. But in the past seven months of him dating Juliette, the supermodel, things had been different. Their relationship at best could be described as intense. At worst volatile. Several of their verbal arguments had been caught on camera outside various nightclubs.

Samantha had at one point suggested that maybe they weren’t a good fit. Richard had shrugged it off and just said that they were working through their issues. The next thing Sam heard, they were engaged. When he’d called to tell her that news, he’d promised Sam that they were better. More relaxed as a couple. He seemed so certain she was the one. That their love was the real thing.

Would a man who loved his fiancée hit her?

Sadly, Sam knew the answer to that question all too well.

“People are reporting hearing shouts in the stairwell before you opened the door and called for help.”

“We were drunk,” he insisted. “Yes, we were loud and obnoxious before it happened. I’ve got no excuse for that, I can only tell you it’s the truth. Hell, that’s why she fell. And I was too drunk to catch her before she went down.”

It wasn’t the most unreasonable story. They had left the hotel bar late at night and decided to take the stairs to their room on the second floor. They had been drunk, clearly loud enough for people in the hotel lobby to have heard them. Juliette had tripped in her four-inch-high stilettos, fallen, hit her chin on the stair railing and knocked herself out cold.

The concierge had opened the door to the stairs, only to find Richard picking up his out-cold fiancée with a severe red mark already forming on her face. He did the next logical thing and called the police.

Only, Juliette had revived by the time the police got there and backed up Richard’s story. No formal complaint had been filed, and the police left the hotel.

However, someone in the lobby, who must have realized who Richard was, had apparently snapped a picture of the quarterback with his unconscious fiancée in his arms. From there it was nothing more than a few reTweets to social media obliteration.

“You need to let me get out there. Let me tell them my side of the story. They’ll believe me. Hell, they will believe Juliette.”

No, Sam thought. They won’t. Not when a woman is about to marry a man who is about to become the highest paid NFL quarterback of all time.

“You’re not saying anything,” she told him. “I’ll hold a press conference in the large conference room downstairs. I’ll tell them everything you said exactly as you said it and let them ask me their questions. If you and Juliette are seen together, I think it will just lend more credence to a false accusation. Besides, her face must be a mess. I’ll handle it.”

“I knew you would believe me,” he said, smiling and nodding. “I knew you would never think that of me.”

“Just one last question.” Samantha had gone over the series of events Richard had detailed for her, coupled with the police report and the story she’d heard directly from the concierge at the hotel. One thing hadn’t sounded right.

“Why was her shirt ripped?”

“What?”

“Her shirt, the concierge said a bunch of buttons were at the bottom of the steps, and it looked like her shirt was ripped in front.”

Richard shook his head. “Maybe when I reached for her, I grabbed her shirt from behind?”

“Maybe?”

Richard groaned. “Come on, Sam. I already told you. I was drunk. Freaking blitzed. It happened in a second. One minute she’s standing next to me, the next she’s at the bottom of the steps.”

It all came down to trust.

Did Sam trust Richard or didn’t she?

* * *

THE NEXT DAY Sam stood in her conference room, which was filled to capacity with press. ESPN had sent a film crew, and it was clear they were disappointed only Sam would be speaking.

“Richard Stanson is innocent. I’m not saying that as his lawyer or his agent, but as his friend. He is the victim in this case. The victim of a picture taken out of context by a person who didn’t have all the facts.”

“Can you tell us the facts as you understand them?” one reporter called out.

Samantha laid out Richard’s perfectly reasonable explanation for the events of a few nights ago.

“Now, this doesn’t excuse him from overindulging—Juliette, either, for that matter—but it doesn’t make him the monster he is being portrayed as...”

Sam stopped talking, because she could feel an immediate change in the room. Phones were buzzing. Everyone was shifting to look at their messages.

No one was paying any attention to her.

That meant bigger news was breaking.

Good, she thought. The quicker they moved on to the next story, the sooner they would leave Richard alone.

“So if that’s all your questions...”

“Ms. Baker,” one reporter said, stopping her. “A last question. Have you seen the video?”

“I’m sorry?” Sam could feel the heat in her cheeks. “What video?”

“The video from the stairwell. Turns out there was a camera just over the door.”

A video shouldn’t matter. A video would just prove Richard’s innocence. Then, why was her gut turning over?

“Excellent,” Sam said. “I’m sure any video will corroborate my client’s story.”

No, she thought. She could see it in their faces. The glimmer of excitement as the story was about to get even worse. Which, of course, made the reporting of it better for all of them.

“Sam,” said another reporter, a woman Sam had given any number of interviews to in the past. “You’re going to want to see the video before you say anything else.”

So Sam did. She took out her phone, also buzzing like crazy with texts, and pulled up YouTube, which was showing a video of Richard Stanson clearly ripping the shirt off his girlfriend and then punching her in the face only to watch her unconscious body fall down four steps to the floor.

CHAPTER ONE

Six months later...

SAMANTHA STARED UP at the house and wondered maybe for the thousandth time why she had felt like this would be a good idea.

Talk about starting over.

Returning to Minotaur Falls seemed like as good a place as any to reboot her life. After all, this was where she’d been raised, and that had worked out pretty well...

Until it hadn’t.

If she was going to stay in the Falls, in her old hometown, then her old home seem appropriate, as well. It had been empty these last years since Duff had died, and Scout had followed her husband, Jayson, to Arizona. Scout was thrilled with the idea of someone actually living here. As if the empty house reminded her of the fact that their father was dead. Which of course would make Scout profoundly sad.

Wow. Had it been almost two years since Duff passed? Some days Samantha felt the grief as if she’d just lost him. Other times it seemed far away, as if those months of reconciling with him, only to then lose him, were a dream from another time.

Back then Sam hadn’t really allowed herself the chance to grieve. There had been Scout to deal with. Samantha had felt it necessary to put her emotions aside to focus on her youngest sister. Scout and Duff had been inseparable through life. There had been worry amongst the family that Scout might not mentally survive his loss.

They should have given Scout more credit. After all, she was pretty tough. Just like Duff raised her to be.

No, no one would have guessed that, of all the Baker girls to lose their grip on their mental faculties...that it would have been calm, cool—practically icy—Samantha Baker.

It was only a small meltdown.

But now you’re back.

Sam’s phone buzzed. It used to go off at all hours of the day in a constant stream of incoming calls and texts but had suddenly gone quiet. Now when it buzzed, it was actually a surprise to her.

“Hello?”

“Are you home yet?”

Scout. Only Scout would refer to this house as Sam’s home. Sam hitched her very expensive handbag over a shoulder and made her way up the porch steps.

“Yes, I’m here.”

She shook out her key ring and identified the one to the house. Pressing the phone between her shoulder and her ear, she unlocked the door and let herself in.

Two years away, and yet nothing had changed. The only thing missing was Duff’s favorite chair. Scout had moved that out to Arizona with her.

“Sandy from down the street has been cleaning it for me once a month. I know it’s a ridiculous waste of money, but I just can’t let it go,” Scout was saying as Sam set her bag down.

“It looks like it’s in really great shape.” She took a moment and glanced around the place. No dust, no smell to suggest the air was musty. Just a fresh and clean house, much like it had been the last time she’d been here.

Much like it had been when Duff was alive.

Sam braced herself for the pang of sadness and let it roll over her. Despite her and Duff’s troubles, the love had always been there. She’d never considered what a hole his absence might mean in her life.

Duff was always supposed to be there.

He was supposed to be here now, telling her that she could do this. She could get back on the horse and get her career back. Her life back.

“Well, it’s a perfect hiding place to lick your wounds for a while. Just ask me.”

“I’m not hiding,” Sam said immediately. “I’m not licking wounds. I’m staging a comeback. That’s totally different.”

“Fine, but listen, if you need me to come home and hang with you...”

“I don’t need anyone,” Sam said, cutting her off. There was no room for sympathy and hand-holding. Yes, she’d had a setback. A significant one, but nothing she couldn’t overcome with some hard work and belief in herself.

“Wow.” Scout chuckled in her ear. “That, my friend, was a very good impression of me. But let me remind you... I did need people. So again, I’m only a phone call and a flight away.”

“It’s the middle of the baseball season, Scout.”

“And you’re my sister, Sam.”

Right. As important as baseball was to the Bakers, family was even more important.

“Understood. Really, it’s not like I’m curled up in ball crying my eyes out.” She had been, but that had been over a month ago. Now she was back.

She hoped.

“The only thing I need from you is prospects.”

Up-and-coming baseball players were Scout’s bailiwick. Sam figured she only needed one solid prospect to sign with her to show everyone she was down but not out.

Someone who would be okay signing with an agent who had loudly and fervently supported a man who’d turned out to be an abuser.

Sam’s stomach rolled, and she wondered when the self-disgust would stop. When she might consider forgiving herself for trusting Richard Stanson.

No one had believed her, of course, that she’d actually trusted him.

Then again, no one had thought she would be so stupid as to stand in front of a room filled with reporters announcing that her client was the victim if she’d known there was video proof.

Richard had known about the video. He’d seen the camera and had paid the hotel security person two hundred thousand dollars to erase it. Apparently that hadn’t been enough.

She’d lost all of her female clients first. No one wanted to be associated with someone who would support a man like him. She couldn’t blame them. Then, her male clients had started to drop her, one by one. Some had been afraid of guilt by association. Others had simply had a concern about her judgment.

In the end she’d been left with Richard, who she’d severed ties with immediately.

He and Juliette were in counseling now. The wedding was still planned for late August.

“I’ve got one, but I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about this.”

Sam focused on what Scout was saying. She needed to start putting the past behind her and work on her future. This was about rebuilding, not tearing herself down just because she’d made a mistake and believed a man who lied to her.

Twice. You’ve made that mistake twice.

“Who? Give me a name,” Sam said, not acknowledging her own thoughts.

“Okay, remember Evan Tanner?”

The name sent a bolt to Sam’s stomach. It wasn’t disgust. Not fear or anxiety. If she had to label it, the closest she might have come was lust, but even that didn’t seem right.

She’d met Evan two years ago when Scout had picked him out as a draft prospect for the New England Rebels. At the time, he’d been a twenty-seven-year-old former college football player who had just taught himself the game of baseball so he could coach a high school team.

Evan Tanner had cost Scout her job with the Rebels; he’d been such an unlikely pick. But there was one thing Scout knew better than anyone, and that was baseball and baseball players. He’d ended up being drafted in the third round, but that was the last Samantha had heard about him. Which made sense if he was bouncing around in minor ball.

Players didn’t make it on to Sam’s radar until they hit the majors.

“Vaguely,” Sam said, because she in fact remembered him vividly. There had been something about him that made it hard for her to look away. It wasn’t just his straight-up good looks or his golden brown eyes. There had been something so nice about him. And when she’d given him her full ice princess shutdown when he’d flirted with her, he hadn’t seemed the least put off or intimidated.

Everyone quaked at her ice princess face.

“Well, guess what? He just got traded to the New England Rebels organization. He’s going to play for the Minotaurs, and while that’s just their minor league team, the talk is he’ll be playing in The Show by the All-Star break.”

That made Sam’s jaw drop. “You’re kidding me. The team that fired you over even suggesting this guy, and they traded for him?”

“Please, you know baseball. A lot of short memories when it comes to this kind of stuff. Especially given Evan’s talent. I’m sure Reuben had no problem spinning his way out of that even a little bit. And it’s not like Evan has a say in where he goes. He’s got to take his chances as they come. He’s blowing it up big-time in the minors, hitting over .350. Once they call him up, he’s going to need an agent. Someone ruthless, too, if he’s going to negotiate with Reuben.”

Great, Sam thought. Her first shot at a real client, and it had to be Evan Tanner.

“Plus, Evan owes me. I put in a good word for you, and it’s a done deal.”

“No word!” Sam snapped. “First, I’m going to investigate the hell out of this guy, and when and only when I decide he’s worthy of my services, then I’ll do the work of landing him. It has to be that way, Scout. I can’t be taking on pity clients. That won’t accomplish anything.”

“Okay,” Scout said, relenting. “No word from me, but it’s not like he doesn’t know who are you. You can’t help that.”

Would he even remember her? Nearly two years seemed like a lifetime ago. A few conversations, some flirting on his part. Ice princess on hers.

Of course he would know her by name. He would certainly know about the scandal. But that was an obstacle she was going to have to overcome with any potential client.

I made a mistake. I believed a man. But give me one more chance, and I swear I’ll never make that mistake again.

She was going to have to work on her pitch.

“The Minotaurs are traveling now, so he’ll join the team on the road. But he should be back in the Falls by the end of the week. That should give you plenty of time to do your research.”

“Thanks, Scout. This could be the break I need.”

“No problem, and if you do sign him, please, give the New England Rebels hell for me. Take every penny out of their pocket you possibly can.”

Sam smiled. “That I can do.”

Sam ended the call and suddenly felt a thrill of excitement. This was it. She was back in business and on the prowl for a new client.

Maybe she would get lucky. Maybe she would see him again and realize he wasn’t as remotely nice to look at as the last time she’d seen him. Because it wasn’t the greatest idea to be attracted to a potential client.

Yes, she was sure her memory was exaggerated.

After all, at the time, she thought he’d been one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.

That had to be wrong.

* * *

EVAN TANNER WAS pulling into the Minotaurs’ baseball field parking lot with his father still talking through the speakers in his truck. It was a new truck, red with black interior. Something he had absolutely no need for but had always wanted.

As a high school teacher and coach, it had been a pipe dream. Conservative used cars had been more his style. Now, he could afford this truck easily. Something he acknowledged was completely jacked—getting more money to play a game than to teach kids. Because he could swing a bat and hit a ball. Life was crazy sometimes.

“You’re going to think about what I said.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“I mean, it’s time, son, we’re talking about the big leagues.”

“I know, Dad,” Evan said, trying to be as patient as he could. After all, his father couldn’t help it, he was just excited for him. The reality was that this next climb into the majors was going to happen...it was just a question of when.

“I worry about you getting taken advantage of because you’re not the prototypical baseball player.”

Evan understood that. There was no doubt the Rebels would lowball any contract they offered him, given his significant age. At least his baseball age.

No, Evan knew an agent was necessary. The hard part was going to be finding the right one. Someone he could trust. Whose first concern was what Evan wanted, not how much money was in it for the agent.

“I promise. I will start looking. Hey, I’m here now. I want to drop my stuff off in my locker and get set up before the game tomorrow.”

“Play sharp.”

Evan smiled. That’s what his dad always told him. Not play well or hard, play sharp. It was his dad’s way of saying to use all his abilities. Not just his physical ones but his mental ones, as well.

“Got it.”

“Oh, and one last thing... I wasn’t going to mention it, but it seemed odd...and I guess I thought you should know. Kelly called me.”

It took a second for the name to register. “Kelly? My ex-girlfriend, Kelly?”

“Yep. She said she was wondering how you were doing and decided to call to catch up. Mine was the last number she had for you. She wanted to know why you weren’t on Facebook.”

Evan grimaced. Because he hated the idea of social media. Because of things just like this. Kelly was part of his past. A long-ago past. There was no reason they needed to be internet friends. He hoped she was doing well but felt no need to catch up with her.

“Anyway, I wasn’t sure I should tell you. The timing...well...let’s just say it’s suspicious.”

Evan understood his father’s concern. It had been Evan’s decision after college not to try and make an attempt at a pro football career. That had ultimately ended the relationship between him and Kelly. She seemed so convinced he would be drafted despite his size and that, by not at least trying, he was walking away from a future that would be radically different than that of a schoolteacher.

Kelly hadn’t wanted to be the wife of a schoolteacher.

Evan would never forget her saying those exact words to him. They deserved better, she had said. It had devastated him and destroyed them as couple. Only months before, he’d actually been thinking about proposing.

Although he couldn’t imagine there would be any way she might know what was happening with him now. They weren’t from the same hometown, having met in college. She was from Florida originally, if he recalled. As far as Evan was aware, none of their mutual college friends knew that he was now playing baseball. Certainly no one knew he was as close to the majors as he was.

Because he wasn’t out there on the internet talking about himself every day.

“It was probably just a coincidence. Don’t worry about it, Dad.”

“I’m not worried. You’ve got too good a head on your shoulders to get distracted by Kelly, of all people. You know, I never liked her.”

“Yes, Dad. I remember.”

“Okay, son...well... I’ll see you soon. You’ll call me the minute you get called up, and no matter where you’re playing I’ll be there.”

His dad, now retired, had spent the last year following Evan around the country to various different minor league ball clubs. Including all the way to Puerto Rico when Evan had played fall ball last year.

Evan had always encouraged his dad, a widower for over ten years now, to find a hobby other than his son. His father had never listened.

Now there was a very real chance before the season was over that his father would be watching Evan at his major league debut game. Evan felt goose bumps at the mere idea of it.

Stay cool. You’re not quite there yet.

“Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, son.”

The call ended, and Evan sat in the truck for a moment to appreciate this time and this moment. The stadium where he had tried out loomed in front of him. The bull situated over the entrance seemed like a fierce thing under the new summer sun. He’d made it to Triple A, one step away from The Show. The irony that he was back here where it all started wasn’t lost on him, either. Karma, it seemed, had a sense of humor.

Scout Baker, a New England Rebel scout at the time, had seen something in the swing of a high school baseball coach. Her belief in him had cost her her job. But her belief in him was what had told him he should continue trying. So he had.

Now he was one step away from fulfilling a dream of being a professional athlete. Something he thought he’d left behind after college.

Evan got out of the truck and grabbed his equipment bag from the cab in back. It was an off day, so the lot was barely filled. Probably mostly with just the support staff who ran the park and the general manager.

Maybe that’s why the ice-blue Mercedes caught his attention. Or more likely the woman leaning against it.

Sleek body, long heels, blond hair that just hit her chin. And even though he couldn’t see them from this distance, the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

He would have known her anywhere. He wondered if she might look at him and guess that she had starred in several of his fantasies over these past months. If it would somehow be written on his face that he had dreamt about taking her every way a man could have a woman.

“Samantha Baker,” he called.

He could see that startled her a little. They’d only shared a few casual conversations not quite two years ago. Maybe he should have forgotten her.

He hadn’t. Not even a little bit.

She straightened and came walking toward him. He could hear the distinctive click of her no-doubt very expensive heels hitting the pavement. A woman on a mission.

“Evan Tanner,” she said, holding her hand out. “It’s good to see you again.”

He nodded and then slowly took her hand. It was small in his, and he held it for a second too long.

“What brings you here?” he asked, even though he had a pretty good idea.

“You,” she said succinctly. “I took a chance you might want to come down to the stadium before your start tomorrow, so I’ve been camping out here.”

“That’s some serious dedication.”

She flashed a smile. “A long time ago I told you that if you moved through the ranks, I could offer my services. Here you are on the cusp of stardom with a contract that’s expiring. So here I am.”

“You said you could or could not offer your services. You claimed you were very exclusive,” Evan reminded her.

“I am,” she said, raising her chin. “I’ve done a pretty thorough background check on you. You’re the kind of client I’m looking for.”

It was a shame, Evan thought. A real shame that someone who looked like her could be so completely disgusting on the inside.

What made it worse was that even though he knew what she was, standing here in the hot summer sun of a baseball parking lot, she still looked so cool and sophisticated he wanted to take her on the hood of her fancy car. Pull her blouse out of her pants and push his hands through her hair. Kiss her, until her lips were red and swollen.

“Sorry, Samantha. I’m not sure what kind of client you’re looking for. But I know what I’m not. That’s someone who would ever hit a woman or cover up for someone who did. So, no, I don’t think I’m your type.”

He watched her body jerk at the verbal assault. Then he watched as she quickly hid behind a mask of indifference. As crazy as it was, it made him think that this was how she might react if he had physically hit her. Which made him feel less sanctimonious and more like an ass.

“Hey, listen, I’m sorry. It’s just...”

“No, I understand,” she said quickly. “You don’t believe I didn’t know about the cover-up. Most people don’t. The clients I take on will have to believe me. Just like I will have to believe in them. Sorry to have wasted your time.”

She turned and quickly walked away, and with each step Evan felt a twinge of regret. Maybe he should have at least asked to hear her side of things. Hell, he owed that much to her sister, Scout, if nothing else.

He was about to open his mouth and call out to her, when she turned around in an elegant move and started walking backward. A feat he admired in such high heels.

“Oh, and Mr. Tanner...good luck dealing with the Rebels. I understand Reuben is a remarkably fair man to work with and will assuredly want to compensate you accordingly.”

She smiled, and it was the smile of a wolf.

“Your loss.”

She gave him a jaunty salute and then did the pirouette thing again and was once more walking away.

His loss.

His loss, indeed.

CHAPTER TWO

“I’LL HAVE THE contracts drawn up, and you won’t regret it. We’re going to do amazing things together, Evan.”

Evan listened to the pitch of the agent on the phone and inwardly groaned. They were all the same. Speaking to him as if Evan had agreed to anything. It seemed to be a thing with agents. As if they could talk over until you simply cowed to their wishes.

Cowing wasn’t Evan’s style.

“I told you before, Donald, I’m not doing this over the phone. You want to sign me, you’re going to have to come out here and meet me. I’m not trying to play prima donna here. I just want to sit down across from you and get to know you a little. I would come to you, but I’m in the middle of the season, as you know.”

There was a soft sigh on the other end of the line. Clearly the man wasn’t happy, but Evan wasn’t budging. Signing with an agent was a big step in his career, and he wanted to make sure he made the right call. The only way to do that was to get a sense of the man face-to-face.

Or person. If he decided to go with a woman. So far, only one had made an offer, and he’d flat-out turned her down. What bothered him was that he’d been regretting that decision ever since. On many different levels.

“Let me see what I can do with my schedule. I’ll be in touch.”

Don ended the call quickly before Evan could reply. He wished he could’ve told the man not to bother. Evan wasn’t feeling it. He tossed the phone on the coffee table in front of him and stretched out on the couch. He had another hour before he needed to be at the ballpark, and he planned on relaxing until then.

As the old man on the team at twenty-nine, he figured he needed to give his body every chance to rest he could. Spending some time listening to agents give him their pitch wasn’t physically taxing, but it was starting to become mentally challenging.

He simply hadn’t connected with Don the way he wanted to. There was something too slick about the guy that didn’t rub right. At least on the phone. The truth was, he hadn’t liked any of the men he’d met either in person or over the phone. All of them had talked to him like he was a sucker at a used car lot buying a car for the first time.

Telling him how much he didn’t know about the business side of baseball. Throwing numbers around like they meant nothing. None of them really cared what he wanted for his future career.

As Evan had made his way through small ball and minor ball, he’d come to understand that his particular athletic talent to hit a baseball was unique. Ultimately he’d started thinking about his future and what making it to the majors might mean. He’d always thought when that time came, Samantha Baker would be his agent.

He knew her reputation. He’d liked the idea of being with a boutique agency where he wouldn’t be one in a crowd. Plus, he knew her personally. It was crazy, but despite the brief time they’d spent together nearly two years ago, he’d felt a connection to her. A sense that if she took him on as a client, she would always have his back.

That was, until he’d watched her stand up in front of crowd of journalists and call Richard Stanson a victim.

A victim!

Yes, Evan had wanted someone who would have his back. But he wanted that person to also have a modicum of integrity. Sam Baker, despite what he thought he knew about her, apparently didn’t.

His phone rang again, and Evan considered letting it go to voice mail. Then he heard his father’s dire warning in his ear about needing to get this done, so he picked it up again assuming it would be Donald wanting to schedule a sit-down.

“Are you an idiot?”

It took him a second to register the female voice on the other end of the phone.

“Scout.” Evan smiled. “How the hell are you doing?”

Scout was the woman he owed everything to, and he’d made it a point to stay in touch. Out of both gratitude and having a serious baseball person in his life to guide him through the ropes of small ball. No doubt she was calling to talk about the irony of him being traded to the Rebels.

“I’m great, but you’re an idiot.”

“You know I didn’t have a choice to come here. It’s not like I could ask for a no-trade clause as part of a minor league contract. I have to go with the team who wants me, but I agree it’s a little crazy that I’m back here with the Rebels.”

“I’m not talking about that! I’m talking about the fact you had a chance to sign with Samantha, and you didn’t. Are you a fool? Don’t you want to make money as a professional athlete, or are you one of those purists who only plays for the love of the game?”

Evan was no purist, but what the hell was he supposed to tell Scout? That he didn’t want to sign with her sister because she lacked character? That she was the kind of woman who would look the other way when confronted with domestic abuse, something that was intolerable to him?

“She didn’t know,” Scout said, reading his mind. “That’s what you’re thinking, and that’s why you walked away. But you know me, and you know I would never lie about something like this. Samantha would never have supported a creep like that if she knew he’d been abusive to women. You have to trust me on this.”

“Scout, you know I want to believe you, but that video...”

“She didn’t know about the video. Saw it the first time when the rest of America did. Richard paid a large sum of money to make it disappear, and no one, not even the police or the NFL, had seen it. Certainly not Sam. Look, you know what kind of people I am. Surely you’ve heard stories about Duff Baker and the type of man he was. Do you honestly think Sam could be so different from us?”

No. He hadn’t thought it possible. Until the evidence was there in front of his face. Only now Scout was telling him a different story. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to judge. Maybe he at least owed it to Sam to hear her side of the story.

“Okay, I’ll talk to her.”

“Good. Oh, and do me a favor. Do not mention that we had this conversation. Got it?”

Not really, but he wasn’t going to argue with Scout. He owed her too much. “Got it.”

* * *

EVAN KNOCKED ON the door of the Baker home and thought about the last time he’d been here. He’d come knowing he’d cost Scout her job, but instead it had been Sam who’d opened the door. Sam, who’d been sporting a considerable black eye at the time. He remembered the way his gut had tightened at the thought of someone hitting her. Hurting her. He’d had an almost crazy urge to find who did it and hurt him back.

Then she’d told him it had happened as a result of squabbling sisters, and suddenly the idea of cool and pretty Samantha getting into a brawl with her sister made her a little more human.

Unexpectedly Evan wondered if she would even bother to open the door to him. If she was innocent, then he’d been kind of a jerk. He was about to turn and leave when he heard the steady drum of sneakers hitting the sidewalk coming to a stop, and he knew he didn’t have to worry about her shutting him out.

Sam Baker looked like a hot, sweaty mess. A damp T-shirt over a sports bra, skintight running shorts and legs that were tan and toned, covered in a sheen of sweat. Her hair was pulled back into a short stubby ponytail.

Nothing icy about her now.

Like every time he laid eyes on her, regardless of how she looked, he felt it deep in his gut.

Evan shifted his feet and wondered again if coming here was a bad idea for an entirely different reason. He wasn’t sure it was a good thing to be thinking about licking the sweat off his potential agent’s neck.

One thing he knew, he’d caught her off guard. He could see that in the way she had brought herself to a sudden stop with her hands crossed over her chest even as she tried to regulate her breathing. Why he liked that, he wasn’t sure. Maybe catching her off guard was the only way to get the upper hand with Samantha Baker.

“Hi,” he said. The lamest opening ever, but he had to start somewhere.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“I wanted to talk the other day, and you told me to get lost.”

That pretty much summed it up. “I think maybe I was wrong. I was judging you based on something I saw on television, and I realized that’s not fair. I would like an opportunity to hear your side and decide for myself what kind of person you are.”

Arms still crossed over her chest, she looked away and shrugged. “Why bother? Surely there are any number of agents who are aware of the trade that just happened and have been in contact with you.”

“I don’t like them,” Even said as honestly as he could. “They’re all trying to sell me something. That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“I want someone who I trust will fight for me. Someone who will have my back. Someone who will listen to what I want, rather than tell me what they think I should do. I’m looking for a partner.”

She looked at him and nodded. “Okay. Then, let’s talk.”

* * *

SAM WALKED UP the front steps of her porch silently cursing that he was seeing her like this. Beyond looking terrible, she was fairly certain she smelled, too. This was not how one conducted business. This was not how one gained the upper hand in a negotiation. She considered telling him she would make an appointment for another day, but if she let him go, who was to say he might not find another agent he did like?

There were good people out there. Sam knew a lot of them. They weren’t all scumbags and car salesmen.

“Can you wait down here while I take a quick shower?” she asked even as she was opening the door to let him inside. There was just no way she could talk to him feeling this rattled. She needed tools, her clothes, her sophisticated cool style.

“Is that a real thing for a woman?”

“Oh, he’s funny and a sexist,” she quipped. “I’ll only be two hours. That’s not very long, is it?”

He smiled and took a seat on the couch in the living room. “I’ll wait.”

He said it like he meant she was worth it, and that did funny things to her insides. She jogged up the steps, happy to be out of his sight and hopefully sense of smell, and headed directly for the bathroom, stripping her clothes off along the way.

As the hot water washed over her, she had this crazy thought that she was upstairs naked, while he was downstairs waiting for her. Knowing she was naked and wet. Knowing that all he had to do was climb the steps and open the bathroom door...

“Stop thinking about him like that,” she mumbled as she turned off the water after a very quick five minutes.

Ten minutes later, she was dressed in pants and a pale pink blouse, her damp hair pulled back into a sleek knot, and her professional demeanor now fully in place.

When she came down the steps he stood.

“Can I get you something to drink? A beer or something?” Actually, Sam had no idea what type of alcohol was in the house. She only drank white wine, but the fridge down in the basement always used to be stacked with a variety of beers.

“No, I’ve got a game tonight. I only have a little less than an hour before I have to head to the field.”

Sam nodded, his point taken. “Then, sit, and I’ll get down to it.”

Sam pulled a small, delicate chair over, so that she was directly across from him.

“The Montreal Robins traded you to the New England Rebels for their closer. The Robins have a shot at the play-offs this season, while the Rebels are iffy at best. So they are probably already looking to next year, and they consider you the best any play-off-bound team had to offer. Your batting average is currently .359, but don’t expect to keep it that high when you face off against major league pitching, although even if it falls off a little, it’s still quite good. Plus, not only do you hit consistently, you also hit for power. A natural three-or four-hitter in the lineup.”

“I get it. You looked up my stats. What I want to know is what happened between you and Richard Stanson?”

Samantha bristled at that but continued. “I spoke to your father, of course. Naturally, he had only glowing things to say about you, but I get the sense there is a deep well of pride when it comes to you. I also spoke with Michelle Lowell.”

“My high school girlfriend?”

“She also had nothing but good things to say about you. Even though you were the star quarterback on the team, she said you were always very humble, which is rare in a stud athlete. Then there was Megan Craig, the teacher you worked with at your former job. She was a little cool with me, of course, having recently been dumped by you, but when pressed about your character, she couldn’t really say anything negative. I’m still trying to get in touch with your college girlfriend, Kelly Lawson. She seems to have moved around the country a bit, but I’m sure I will eventually track her down...”

“Hold up, hold up,” Even said, raising his hand. “You did all this research on me? I’m not the one who did anything wrong.”

“I’m not the one who did anything wrong, either,” Sam said coolly. “The research I did on you, I also did on Richard Stanson. I can only work with what people tell me, and Richard failed to tell me that in recent months he’d grown violent with his fiancée. Had he told me, I would have immediately reported him to the police for assault. I would have counseled Juliette to seek therapy for accepting that assault and still maintaining a relationship with him. When I went before the press I only had the word of a man who I had known for four years who had no previous history of violence, if the women in his past were to be believed. So I trusted him.”

“You were wrong,” Evan said solemnly.

It took everything she had, but Samantha kept her chin up. “I was wrong.”

“I believe you didn’t know.”

“I believe what Michelle and Megan said about you as a person. But I’m still going to speak to Kelly when I find her.”

“She won’t say anything different. I loved Kelly. I would never hurt her.”

He sounded so sincere, Sam thought. Like he absolutely believed what he said. Except Richard had said the same thing about Juliette, and Don had at one point said the same thing to her.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Sam said. “I find I’m a bit cynical these days.”

“Right. I guess you can’t believe anyone anymore. Makes what that bastard did even worse. Knocked around his girlfriend and then shattered your trust in the process. I don’t know how a person lives with that.”

Sam smiled humorlessly. “Richard was suspended for four games. He’ll be playing again next fall, and last I heard his new agent landed him a deal that will make him the highest-paid quarterback in the NFL. He and Juliette are to be married in August. They seem to be living just fine.”

“And you lost your business.”

“I lost my clients,” Sam corrected him. “I’m the business. I’m still here. Not going anywhere.”

Evan seemed to study her as if he was making his own decisions.

“I’m not going to sell you anything,” Sam told him. “I’m not going to beg you to sign with me. I’m just going to tell you a few simple facts. You’ve got a contract that expires at the end of the season. The Rebels, if they are smart, will wait until they call you up to the Bigs to see how you perform, before they even consider making you an offer. But it’s a risk they take. If they wait too long and you succeed, there will be other bidders. If they move too fast, and you don’t pan out...”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Sam looked at him straight on and saw it in his eyes. Not confidence or arrogance. Instead, she saw determination.

“You wouldn’t be the first stud minor league player not to make the transition to the majors.”

“It’s. Not. Going. To. Happen.”

Sam shrugged. “Either way, you’re going to want to play this to your best advantage. Let’s face it, you’re twenty-nine. This next contract is likely to be your one and only big money deal. If you sign with me, I’ll make sure together we make the most of it.”

Evan huffed. “I’m making almost two hundred thousand dollars right now. That’s more money than I thought I would ever see in my life.”

Sam got up and moved to sit next to him on the couch. It was a staged maneuver meant to infer intimacy between the agent and client. A bonding process. Only with Evan she felt stilted. When he looked at her, looked at how close she was to actually touching him, she could feel him stiffen.

Neither of them were comfortable sitting this close. It was a flag in Sam’s brain, but she refused to acknowledge it.

“You understand what happens next, don’t you? If you get called up this year, when the negotiations start...we’re talking millions. If you’re as good as everyone says you are...we’re talking multiple millions. I know it sounds crazy, but you would be amazed at how many people have a hard time adjusting to that kind of life change. I could help with that, too. With the transition you’ll need to make.”

“All part of the service, huh?”

“Yes,” Sam said simply. “I don’t just handle one contract and we’re done. If you do this thing with me, then I become part of your life, and you become part of mine.”

Even looked at her hard, and for a second, just a second, she might have thought that his gaze lingered on her mouth.

Another flag she was choosing to dismiss.

“Yeah.” He finally nodded. “That’s what I want.”

Sam held her hand out and suppressed the shudder that went through her when he engulfed her in his handshake.

It was going to be fine, she thought. So what if he was handsome? So what if her thoughts strayed into dangerous territory when it came to him? In the end she was a professional and a woman who had complete control over her actions. She simply wouldn’t let whatever this thing between them was get out of hand.

“It’s a deal?” she asked as he was still shaking her hand.

“It’s a deal.”

CHAPTER THREE

CRACK.

Sam knew the moment she heard the sound that Evan had hit the ball out of the park. She watched as it sailed over the left field wall. Duff used to say it was the sweetest sound in the universe, right after the sound of any one of his daughters laughing.

The Minotaurs were taking batting practice before the game, and Sam found a certain amount of contentment sitting in the stands and just watching players swing a bat. She probably hadn’t actually watched a game since...

Since the last time she’d watched Evan play.

Then she’d been fascinated because she’d rarely seen such a display of raw talent.

“Sure. Talent. If that’s what you want to tell yourself,” Sam muttered.

“Am I interrupting a conversation with yourself? Because I can come back later. I know how important they can be.”

Sam startled and turned to see a woman just a few steps up from the seat at the end of the aisle. Sam stood and reached out her hand. “You’re Jocelyn Taft.”

“Jocelyn Taft Wright,” the woman replied, taking Sam’s hand in a sure and confident grip.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I forgot.”

Jocelyn jerked a shoulder. “Call me sentimental, but I like the other name better. With mine and my husband’s together. May I join you?”

Sam couldn’t see any reason to object. Jocelyn was the Minotaurs’ owner. The two women sat next to each other, both staring down on to the field. While Sam had dressed again professionally in pants, blouse and heels, being here as an agent, Jocelyn was infinitely more casual in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Which Sam could tell, just by the quality of the material, still probably cost as much as Sam’s outfit.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Wright?”

“Oh, please, call me Jocelyn. Everyone around the park does. And we’re vaguely connected through Scout. How is she these days?”

“Happy. In love.”

Jocelyn smiled. “You know I’m responsible for that. I invited her to my wedding, just so she would have an opportunity to ask Jayson out. And I made sure she was in a killer dress.”

Sam laughed. “Uh, yeah, but then he left her and broke her heart, and she wasn’t the same for four years.”

“Until he came back and mended her heart, and they lived happily ever after,” Jocelyn said in a put-on hoity tone. “I still think it counts as a match in my favor.”

“If you say so,” Sam said coolly. She wasn’t going to argue with a woman as powerful as Jocelyn Taft Wright.

“So you know who I am, right? I have this inbred desire to make money all the time.”

“The way I understood it, you gave away most of your money to charity.”

“I did.” Jocelyn smiled mischievously. “Which of course I’m glad I did, but it didn’t seem to kill my desire to make more. That’s where you come in or, more accurately, your client.”

Sam watched Evan take another swing. She watched another ball sail out of the stadium. It was just batting practice, so the pitches were basically softballs, but he certainly had a sweet swing.

“What are you thinking?”

“I want to do a little meet-and-greet with some of the press. He’s been playing with the team for a week, and everyone knows he’s bound for the majors. I want to milk ticket sales as much as I can while he’s here. More people will come out to a game if they think they’re seeing the next big thing, so I need to let everyone know I’ve got it.”

“There’s press in Minotaur Falls?”

“My husband would be very offended to know you thought so little of his struggling gazette.”

Sam winced, remembering Jocelyn’s husband essentially was the local sports media, but she could see from Jocelyn’s expression, she wasn’t truly offended.

“Sorry,” Sam said anyway. “I’m just used to a bigger market.”

“That’s fine. I would imagine we might attract more than just a few local sports people. After all, he’s a unique story. Late bloomer, just coming to the game. And he’s way better-looking than Robert Redford.”

Sam smiled at the movie reference. “Remember, Robert Redford had been a baseball player before the evil woman seduced and shot him. So Evan is even more unique than him.”

“Either way, he’ll pique the interest of enough people to get some sports coverage on television, and that will bring the people to my stadium, which will make me a very happy woman.”

Sam looked at her. “You really do enjoy it. Making money, even when you have all you could need.”

Jocelyn shrugged. “’Fraid so. But I look at it this way...the more Pete and I have, the more good we get to do. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do to set something up. You would want this to happen in the next few days, I imagine.” After all, it was anyone’s guess when the Rebels would decide to bring him up.

Jocelyn winced. “Uh, yeah. But here’s the thing—I would appreciate it... I mean, this is a small town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. Certainly anything having to do with the Bakers...”

Sam nodded, Jocelyn’s unsaid message sinking in. “You don’t want me there. You’re afraid my bad press will rub off on him.”

Jocelyn turned to Sam, and it wasn’t hard at all for Sam to see the tough businesswoman she must have been to have succeeded so well. There was steel behind her eyes. “Look, I’ve had a chance to talk with Evan a few times. He’s as squeaky clean as they come. The fact that he hired you to be his agent tells me there is probably more to your story than what most people have heard. So I get that you might be wrapped up in a scandal you didn’t choose and weren’t responsible for, but unfortunately too many people around here know you and your story. I hope you understand I’m doing this for his sake.”

At that Sam laughed harshly. “See, you’ve already told me the truth, Jocelyn. You’re not doing anything for Evan’s sake. You’re doing this to sell more tickets. And you don’t want someone who might have turned a blind eye to domestic violence anywhere near your squeaky clean poster boy. It’s business, and I do understand. I won’t be anywhere near the cameras. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a sudden craving for a hot dog.”

It was a thing with her. Sam always wanted food when she was pissed. She stood, but Jocelyn remained seated, essentially blocking her path out of the aisle.

“You had no clue, did you?”

Sam didn’t have to ask what Jocelyn was talking about, and she realized that question was probably going to haunt her for the rest of her life. Or certainly the foreseeable future.

“Nope.”

“Men,” Jocelyn muttered.

“Not all men,” Sam said, nodding her chin toward her squeaky clean client on the field. “At least, we have to hope, right?”

Jocelyn turned her knees to the side, and Sam left her behind in search of that hot dog. She wasn’t quite as pissed anymore, but that didn’t mean a hot dog wouldn’t taste damn good.

* * *

EVAN CAME OUT of the stadium freshly washed and feeling amazing after a solid game. He’d gone three for four, with a home run. The team had won, and overall the mood was jovial in the locker room.

Sure, he was getting a lot of grief about when he was going to get the call. His ascent to The Show seemed all but inevitable. He could see some jealousy in the younger players around him, too. Guys who maybe thought they were more deserving, because they had been playing the game longer. Evan wouldn’t let that negativity touch him. He wasn’t getting ahead by keeping anyone else down. He was simply playing his game his way.

He stopped when he saw Sam leaning on the hood of his truck. Much like that first time he’d seen her again, only then it was on her car. Leaning against his truck like that only made her hotter.

Clearly, her ability to knock the breath out of him was still alive and well, despite telling himself nearly every day since they had shaken hands that he needed to stop thinking about her as a woman.

She’s my agent. A sexless creature entirely.

Then she stood straight, and he took in her cool expression, long legs and slim high heels and snorted.

There was no way, as long as he still had his penis attached to him, that he could look at Samantha Baker and not see her as flat-out sexy.

He’d wanted her the first time he saw her almost two years ago. Had she given him a glimmer of an opening back then, he would have asked her out.

But she hadn’t. It never occurred to him to wonder why that might be.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he blurted out as he dropped his equipment bag in the back of his cab.

He could see he’d startled her—it seemed he was always doing that—because it took her a few seconds to come up with a suitable response. Which made no sense, because it was a yes or no answer.

“Why are you asking?”

Evan shrugged. “No real reason. Just curious about you. Like you said, you’re part of my life now.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him warily before saying, “No. I don’t.”

“What about when I met you? Did you have one then?”

She cocked her head to the side. “I see. Trying to understand why I didn’t fall at your feet when you smiled at me the first time?”

Evan smiled a little bashfully now. “Yup.”

“Sorry to wound your ego, but, no, I didn’t have one back then, either. My last relationship ended with a broken engagement. I haven’t been all that eager to get back out there since.”

“Had your heart broken?”

“Something like that.”

“Idiot.”

Sam quirked a single eyebrow. She really was an icy creature. Unless she was all hot and sweaty from jogging, that was. Evan tried unsuccessfully to suppress that memory.

“I meant the guy. For having you and then losing you.”

There was an emotion in her eyes that made him sorry he’d brought the topic up. Like he had poked at an old wound and suddenly made her pain resurface.

“Are we done discussing my love life? We have important business to go over.”

“Must be important if you were willing to stay through the whole game rather than just call me later.”

Sam shifted her feet a little. “Well, you were having a good game, so it wasn’t hard to watch. Given you’re my only client right now, you’re entitled to the VIP treatment.”

Evan couldn’t say why, but he knew she was lying. She’d stayed to watch the game because she had wanted to, not because of their business. He was fairly certain that this thing he felt, it went both ways. No doubt she was as uncomfortable about it as he was. Instead of calling her on it, he backed off.

“Okay then, what’s so important?”

“Jocelyn Taft... Wright. Jocelyn Taft Wright, you know, owns the team and the stadium. She wants to capitalize on your time with the Minotaurs. She thinks a small press conference to talk about your journey here might sell some tickets.”

Evan shrugged. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea. He already had a minor issue with jealousy among the guys. He didn’t want to exacerbate that with more attention focused only on him. It didn’t seem right in such a team sport. Then again, he had to be practical. This was his career, after all. He was going to have to start thinking about these things.

“It’s a good idea,” Sam said. “You’ve got a unique story, and we need to take advantage of that. I’ve been trying to think of some sponsors who might be interested once you’re called up and hopefully start hitting home runs. Someone who wants to advertise a product along the lines of...it’s never too late...”

“Sam.” Evan stopped her. “That’s fine. Whatever you think is necessary.”

She nodded. “Good. Jocelyn will set everything up. You just need to show up and look pretty for the cameras.”

“That won’t be too hard with you standing next to me.”

Sam shook her head, and again Evan could see something beyond the icy façade. Another flash of pain. He felt it in his gut, too. The mere idea of causing her pain bothered him. He wanted her to be safe behind those icy walls she’d constructed for herself. Even as much as he wanted to be on the other side of them.

“I won’t be there. Jocelyn doesn’t want to risk your image being tarnished with me on the scene. Keep in mind she’s trying to sell tickets to families.”

“Seriously? You’re standing there telling me she’s ashamed of you.”

Sam got a little stiffer. “It’s a fact we’ll need to deal with. We should probably prepare an answer if anyone actually questions you about your decision to hire me as your agent.”

“How about the truth? You didn’t know Stanson was a lying douche bag, and you’re a damn good agent.”

Her lips quirked. “You might want to refrain from using the word douche bag in front of television cameras.”

“I’m serious, Sam. This is bull you have to pay for that guy’s actions. Let me tell people what really happened. Maybe no one will believe you if you say you didn’t know, but if other people hear it from those who respect you...”

Sam shook her head. “I’m not the story. You are. Remember that. It’s not going to hurt you to have me one room away.”

“I don’t like it,” Even said stubbornly.

Sam smiled, genuinely smiled for maybe the first time since he’d met her, and it took his breath away.

“You’re a knight in shining armor, aren’t you? Ready to save the damsel in distress.”

“If you’ll let me.”

Sam chuckled. “Evan, trust me, I’m not a damsel. If I need saving, I’ll do it myself. Just be there on time. I’ll pick out the outfit I want you to wear.”

She started to walk away toward her own car. That sleek ice-blue Mercedes that reminded him of her.

Evan scowled. Because she was so casually telling him what to do or because she was leaving him, he wasn’t sure.

“I’m not some damn doll to be dressed up,” he called after her.

“No, you’re a client I want to make sure is dressed appropriately for his first public appearance.”

“I don’t like red!” he shouted even as she was opening her car door.

She waved back. “I don’t care.”

Yeah, Evan thought as he watched her drive away, hiring her was both the best and worst decision he’d ever made.

CHAPTER FOUR

“IT’S RED,” EVAN SAID, looking down at the shirt in his hands.

It was two days later, and they were alone in the team manager’s office, while Sam could hear the press assembling in the small room next door.

Sam smiled. She couldn’t even say why she’d done it. Sure, red would look awesome against his tanned skin and golden brown eyes, but there were other colors that would have worked just as well. The truth was, she had wanted to tease him a little. See his reaction, which really wasn’t very professional of her, but she couldn’t help it.

“Trust me,” she said. “It will look great.”

He grumbled as he started unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing. Sam watched his fingers for a few minutes, enthralled with how they moved down his body, button by button. He was wearing a white tee underneath. There was no reason he shouldn’t have been able to change shirts in front of her, but she found herself turning around anyway. Better to avoid the show.

“So, about the interview, you know how this works, right?”

“I’m pretty sure they ask me questions, and I answer them.”

After what she imagined was enough time to take one shirt off and put another one on, Sam turned around. He was straightening the sleeve around his wrist.

“I’m going to get you back for this,” he told her, looking down at himself in self-disgust. “I hate red.”

“I’m trembling in fear,” Sam said, although she couldn’t help but wonder what his form of retribution might look like.

She handed him the tie she had picked out, and he looped it around his neck. “Now remember this next part is a little bit of a performance. I want to make sure you’re aware an audience is listening to everything you say. You have to be careful. In some respects, you want to keep a shield up between you and the audience. A layer of self-defense. You don’t want to say anything too pointed or something that might attract people’s negative opinion. However, the more candid you are, the more they will warm to you.”

“You want me to be guarded, but also candid.”

Sam beamed. “Exactly. Be yourself. Just don’t give them everything.”

“You understand what you’re saying right now makes no sense.”

“Trust me, it will make perfect sense when you watch it back on TV later.”

“Are you going to watch?”

Sam pointed to the television. She had agreed not to be in the room with him, but she’d asked Jocelyn for the TV here so she could at least watch and assess her client’s performance.

“Every step of the way. I’ll be able to give you notes after.”

“Swell. Notes on being candid.”

“You’re in a whole new ballpark now. Get it...ballpark?”

He winced. “Wow, that was bad.”

She punched his shoulder. “It was funny.”

“It was not even close to being funny.”

“I’m a funny person,” Sam insisted and then watched as he burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, honey, but funny is not the first word that anyone would assign to you. Smart, cool, sophisticated...terrifying. Funny might be somewhere down here.” Evan held his hand to his knees.

Then Sam did something she was pretty sure she hadn’t done since she was five years old.

She pouted.

She could feel it. Her bottom lip pushed out as she crossed her arms over her chest. She would have harrumphed, but she had some pride. Girls who pouted did so to get something from men, and Sam didn’t need anything from a man. Samantha Baker didn’t pout.

Except she was pouting now. And apparently her pouting only made him laugh more.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” he said as he walked over and pried her hands away from her body so he could hold them. “You’re right. You are funny. You are being super funny right now.”

She wanted to punch his arm again. She wanted to...

The door to the room opened. It was Jocelyn, “Hey, Evan, you’re up.”

“Right. One second.”

The door closed, and he turned back to Sam. “Seriously, I wish you were in there with me.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be waiting for me.”

“Right here.”

He nodded as if that gave him some satisfaction. Then he took a deep breath.

“Good luck,” she told him. “Go kill it.”

Then he was gone, and Sam settled in to watch the show.

After twenty minutes Sam wouldn’t exactly call what he was doing killing it. More like...bombing big-time. He clearly was not someone who shone in the limelight. Which was strange given how utterly handsome he was and truly charming when he was talking to you face-to-face.

He should have been captivating.

Instead he seemed uncomfortable as he fidgeted in his chair while some female reporter from ESPN asked him what he predicted his batting average might be once he had to face off against major league pitching.

He stumbled around the answer, not really saying anything to indicate how good he planned to be. Which he’d already assured her was going to be very good. This was not a man without self-confidence.

Humility, that’s what his high school sweetheart had remembered about him, and it showed. He didn’t think he should be the one everyone was focused on, even though he was by far the best player on the team.

He’s a good guy. A genuinely good guy.

Sam would have believed her cynicism was so deeply ingrained no man would be safe from it. That she would forever believe all men were hiding parts of themselves from view until some trigger revealed their violent darker side.

Evan Tanner, however, was proving to be resistant to her cynical belief. He was charming when he wanted to be, funny when he wanted to be. Yet when he’d believed the worst about her, he wasn’t afraid to let her know that, either.

Through all their interactions she sensed a solidness about him. A forthrightness that was there for everyone to see. She couldn’t imagine he had anything to hide. Certainly not a dark side.

He was the hero. Not the villain.

“Uh...no... I’m not involved with anyone.”

Another female reporter was asking about his social life. Yes, that was something he clearly didn’t want to talk about. Was he blushing?

Sam smiled. They would have to work on drafting some practiced answers to those kinds of questions. If he did what everyone was projecting and became a superstar, then he would need to be more relaxed with a camera in his face.

The smoother he was during interviews, the more chance he’d have to pick up sponsors. More sponsors meant more money. And that was the game Sam needed to play if she was going to show everyone she was back on top. An agent any athlete would want to have.

“You are currently being represented by Samantha Baker...” one reporter began.

Here it was. Sam tensed, and, as she watched, so did Evan. It was clear that he wanted to say something, in some way to stand up for her. It’s who he was. He was built to be a knight.

But she’d told him when he agreed to do this, it was necessary to stick to the script.

“Yes, as many of you may know, Scout Baker was working for the Rebel organization as a scout when she found me coaching a high school baseball team. She invited me to a tryout camp, and, well, my life really hasn’t been the same since.”

Sam nodded. That sounded sincere. Real. Most likely because it was.

“Anyway I owe the Baker family a tremendous debt, and I’m confident that Samantha will do right by me.”

There. It made perfect sense. A man could overlook scandal out of loyalty to the family. Sam hated that she had to set the narrative that way, that he had taken pity on her, but at least he would be perceived as squeaky clean despite her past.

“Are you at all worried about her questionable character and her collusion with her client to cover up an assault?”

Sam gritted her teeth. She had hoped for no follow-up, but this part was still scripted just in case. All he had to say was: I’m not here to talk about my agent’s past. I’m here to talk about my future in baseball.

A perfect line that would pivot everyone back to the game and him and away from her.

“She didn’t collude with her client on anything. She was lied to by a man she trusted to tell her the truth. And what really cranks my gear is that somehow it’s like she’s to blame for what that asshole did. This guy is a violent scumbag who hit his fiancée, tried to cover it up and then lied about it. Why is my agent to blame for that? I’m perfectly happy with Samantha Baker as my agent, and, no, I have no concerns about her character at all. Now, if we’re done here?”

Evan stood so quickly he almost toppled over his chair. A few reporters were still firing questions at him, obviously wanting to feed on the sound bite he had given them.

Sam closed her eyes and sighed. He was going to make the ESPN highlights tonight by calling Richard Stanson a violent scumbag asshole.

At least it hadn’t been douche bag. He’d at least taken her advice and avoided that one.

The door to the office where she was waiting flew open and then slammed shut behind her. Evan was already loosening his tie as he mumbled under his breath about more assholes.

“I’m not here to talk about my agent’s past. I’m here to talk about my future in baseball,” Sam said. “It’s a great line. You know how I know? I wrote it for you.”

He glared as if he were about to snap at her, too, then she could see he just released his anger in a woosh of breath. As if simply by looking at him, she had soothed the savage beast. She had originally thought he was a white-knight hero, but he wasn’t without a little temper, either.

“It’s not right. Calling out your character like that. And sorry, but I’m not going to stand for it. You’ve got to deal with that. Okay? You’re my agent now. I get to say what I want about you when I want to. Got it?”

At his intensity, Sam felt a swirl of something in her chest. Like she was being looked after and cared for and protected. It wasn’t an uncommon feeling.

Of course she’d always had Duff.

Then there had been Bob, her mother’s husband and Sam’s biological father. Something Bob hadn’t known for eighteen years of Sam’s life because he’d been stupid by dumping Sam’s mother when he thought he was doing the right thing by her. Bob had wanted to fight her battles, too, like any other father would, but Sam was an adult when she met him. She’d been able to take care of herself, even at eighteen.

Yes, Duff and Bob were two men with flaws. But they were also two men who’d had her back.

Now Evan stood in front of her, and with him, she had that same feeling. Like no matter what, he would guard over her, snarling at anyone who dared to take a swipe at her, no matter how many times she told him she could save herself. Hadn’t he called her terrifying?

Terrifying people took care of themselves.

She opened her mouth to tell him one more time he didn’t have to save her. That she wasn’t that kind of woman who needed rescuing.

Instead she nodded. “Got it.”

He was looking at her warily, like he was waiting for more of a fight, but the truth was there was no point in arguing. She wasn’t going to change his mind, and she wasn’t going lie to herself and say there hadn’t been some satisfaction in watching someone else defend her. Someone else besides her say she wasn’t a liar.

“I’m going to be on Sports Center tonight, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Sam agreed. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. A little buzz never hurt anyone. And since you don’t have a Twitter account, you’re not going to know what all the horrible Richard Stanson fans are going to Tweet about you for calling out their boy.”

“The fact that he still has fans... I mean, seriously, how do people reconcile that? How can you root for someone who you know has no respect for women?”

Sam frowned. “Because he wins. Don’t get me wrong—we’ll call him out for it, we’ll talk about him for a couple of weeks, we’ll even discuss domestic abuse and ways to help end it. But at the end of the day, people don’t really care about their sports heroes’ lives. They care about their own lives, and when their team wins, they feel good. That’s all that counts.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

Sam walked over to him and brushed a little lint off his shoulder. “I told you before. Welcome to the Bigs, my friend.”

They looked at each other, and Sam could feel a shift in the dynamic. She was standing too close. She had made an excuse to touch him. Had there been any lint really, or had she just wanted to get closer to him? So she could be near the man who wanted to rush to her defense.

The man who had made her pout.

He was looking at her now not as his agent but as a woman, and she could feel the answer to that look all the way to her toes.

Yes.

No.

She tried to be casual about how she removed her hand from his shoulder, but before she could fully escape, he’d circled his fingers around her wrist, trapping her.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he asked, his voice low and slightly gruff.

“Talk about what?”

Sam almost wanted to smile at how well she had pulled off that line. She was cool, casual and sounded completely unaware of anything he might be talking about.

“I want you.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. Who did that? Who just said the thing they were thinking despite the consequences?

“I get it. I know it’s messed up. You’re my agent and I want it to stay that way, but maybe it would be better, easier, if we talked about the elephant. Because I’m pretty sure this goes both ways.”

Sam managed a weak huff. “That’s awfully arrogant of you.”

Evan shook his head slowly. “Not really. You’re trembling, and where my thumb is hitting your pulse point I can feel your heart racing.”

Sam jerked her hand away, and Evan let her go.

“We need a plan. A way we’re going to deal with it.”

“I had a plan,” Sam said. “I was going to ignore it. You were supposed to do the same. It’s how adults deal with things they don’t want to deal with.”

“That seems silly, doesn’t it?”

He was smiling, which made him look incredibly endearing. She wanted to slap his face. Maybe that would cure him of his desire. “Look, Evan, what did you think I was going to say?”

“I want you, too.”

Like that was going to happen. Like she would just put herself out there and see how he reacted. Raw and vulnerable.

“I meant, what did you think talking about this openly would accomplish?”

He shrugged. Then sighed. “Honestly I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t want to lose you as an agent.”

“Then you must know we can’t possibly have any romantic entanglement. Ours is a business relationship.”

“Entanglement? You make that sound like a game of Twister. I’m not talking about just an entanglement. Yes, I get our business relationship makes things more complicated. And, yes, it makes sense to walk away from any kind of personal relationship.”

Sam felt physically relieved. He understood. That was good. That would prevent him from making any more ridiculous comments.

“But it doesn’t change the fact we still want each other.”

Comments like that.

“Evan.” Sam sighed. What in the hell was she supposed to do with a man like this? One who was just so out there with himself. Wasn’t he worried he was going to get hurt? Because it’s what she would most likely do. To protect herself she would lash out like a cat that has encountered an overfriendly dog who wants to play. A few swipes and the dog would walk away whimpering.

“Okay, look, I can see it makes you uncomfortable to talk about it. I’ll drop it for now.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling for the first time since he’d started speaking she could take a deep breath.

“Here’s the thing, though, Sam. I’ve learned a lot in the last few years since I first met you. I’ve learned you don’t get anything in this world you truly want without taking some risks. While our situation might not be ideal, don’t think it means I’m not going to try for it. For you. Because now I know what it means to take that risk and win. I’m not afraid.”

He moved around her, and Sam turned to watch as he opened the door to the office and left. Happy that she’d been able to keep her mouth closed. Because what she had really wanted to say was...don’t go.

Which of course was ridiculous. They were having dinner that night with Jocelyn Taft Wright and her husband, Pete. A thank-you from Jocelyn for Evan having agreed to the interview.

Today was Evan’s off day, and really it was generous of him to give up his free time to do the press conference in the first place.

Sam took a few deep, calming breaths. All things considered, nothing too terrible had happened. Evan had confessed to wanting her, but she hadn’t really done the same.

She hadn’t been able to work up the steeliness to actually lie to him, so it was better she say nothing. Now she knew she would have to work much harder to keep a personal distance between them.

What made that so hard was that beyond wanting him, she actually just really liked him. She had an idea that maybe leaving Minotaur Falls was the smart choice. Distance would surely help the situation. Only it felt a little like cowardice, not to mention humiliating.

Hey, Evan, I want you so much I can’t be in the same town as you for fear I’ll give in and jump your bones.

No. Leaving was not an option.

“You’ll get over it,” she told the empty room.

* * *

KELLY LAWSON WATCHED from her car as the elegant blonde left the stadium and headed to her Mercedes. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy at the cool, sleek business suit, slim high heels and sophisticated haircut. All things she had wanted for herself, but nothing she could ever afford.

Not that she regretted for a second where all her hard-earned money had to go.

“Mom, I don’t huh-understand why we’re here if there’s no game today. I huh-thought we were going to see a baseball game.”

Kelly looked at her son, and her love for him overwhelmed her. He took a hit of his inhaler, and she schooled herself not to wince. The humidity at this time of year wasn’t bad in upstate New York, but really they should be in the least humid environment she could find for him. Anything to make his breathing easier.

She reached over to ruffle his hair. “We are, Connor. Soon, I promise. I just wanted...”

I wanted to see him first.

“I wanted to make sure I had the right directions first. This is like a dry run.”

She hadn’t been prepared for the punch in her gut when he came out of the stadium. It had been so long since she had seen him, and now...now she was committed to doing this thing.

For Connor. For Connor she would do anything.

CHAPTER FIVE

“THIS WAS LOVELY of you to invite us to dinner,” Sam said as they entered the restaurant. Minotaur Falls wasn’t a mecca for fine dining, but this was by far the best restaurant in town.

“My pleasure,” Jocelyn returned. “You did me a favor today. Pete and I appreciate it. This is the least I could do to offer my thanks.”

“Not going to lie,” Evan said. “I’m not a fan of the interview stuff, but anything to help the team.”

Pete, Jocelyn’s husband, studied Evan with a skeptical gaze. As if it was hard to believe he was truly that honest. Although Sam was beginning to believe that’s simply who Evan was. What you saw was what you got.

I want you.

Yes, he was a man who felt very comfortable with the truth. Sam hadn’t been able to get those words out of her head since he’d said them.

The two couples settled into a booth, Jocelyn and Pete across from her and Evan. Not that she was in any way part of a couple, of course. It was just the situation, that she and Evan were here with Jocelyn and Pete. Another couple. That the four of them were having dinner.

Enjoying each other’s company. And laughing and having fun.

Not that you couldn’t have fun on a business dinner, of course. However, Sam needed to remind herself she was here only in a business capacity. Yes, she might have taken special care with the dress she picked out. Yes, she might have changed three different times before settling on the black jersey with the plunging back, and, yes, maybe she had been more than a little thrilled when Evan had called earlier and offered to pick her up.

This way she could have some wine and relax, as Evan didn’t drink during the baseball season. When she’d asked him why, he’d told her he didn’t like to have his senses compromised in any way.

Sam thought it sounded reasonable, but there had been something in his voice when he said “senses” that made her think of sensuality and that made her think of things she shouldn’t be thinking about.

Accepting his offer of a ride was in many ways a test for her self-control. Of course he could pick her up. Absolutely he could open the door for her. Yes, she could sit next to him in the cool confines of his truck without there being a hint of intimacy.

Yeah, right. Then how come you can’t keep from looking at how close his thigh is to yours in the booth?

“So, Evan, are you more nervous or excited for your debut start in The Show?” Pete asked as soon as the waiter had left with their drink orders.

Evan opened his mouth and then abruptly closed it.

Knowing instantly what he was afraid of, Pete held his hands up. “I’m not on the job right now—no notepad. This whole dinner is officially off the record. Tonight I’m just Jo’s husband.”

Evan nodded, and Sam wanted to praise him for at least realizing he needed to be cautious any time when speaking to a reporter. He was learning.

“Then the answer is nervous,” Evan said with a small chuckle. “Not about playing. I mean, that will happen. I’m nervous about my dad being there. Knowing he’s watching. I don’t want to let him down. He’s pretty excited about this whole thing.”

“Fathers can be terrifying,” Pete agreed.

“Tell me about it,” Sam said without really thinking. “I happened to have two. A baseball legend and a former Navy Seal. Maybe that’s where I get my ferocious side from.”

Evan looked at her quizzically, and she realized he didn’t know her particular story. Jocelyn and Pete did because of their relationship with Scout, and it wasn’t as if there was anything to hide anymore with Duff having passed.

“My mother and her current husband, Bob, knew each other many years ago,” Sam explained. “He left to go on a military mission and broke up with her before leaving. For her sake, of course.”

Jocelyn snorted. “Men can be so frustrating that way.”

“Anyway, my mom didn’t know at the time she was pregnant with me. Duff, when he met my mother, fell in love with her immediately. He stepped in and married her and accepted me as his own. It was only after Bob reconnected with my mom years later that I learned the truth.”

“Wow. That must have been a sucker punch,” Evan said.

“A little bit. I was eighteen and probably not as mature as I should have been about it,” Sam mused. “Duff had insisted on keeping it a secret from me, and that kind of created a rift between us. Fortunately we got over it before the end. And now I get Bob, who is pretty terrific, too, if just a little bit scary sometimes with the things he can do. Just ask Scout if anyone behind a locked door is safe when Bob is in the house.”

The group chuckled, and the somber mood was lifted.

“Speaking of one of your fathers,” Jocelyn said. “You know how hard I had to fight to get the statue of Duff Baker for my stadium.”

“Yes, and I’m glad you won.” Sam turned to Evan. “Two other teams wanted to honor Duff with statues. But we felt like this was home, and if there was going to be a statue, it should be here.”

“Without the Baker girls’ support I don’t know if I would have pulled it off, but it’s coming along really well. We’re planning the unveiling during the All-Star break in July. This way Scout and Lane will be able to fly back to the East Coast. It’s going to be a major event, and, best of all, the seats will be packed!”

“My wife, ever the sentimentalist.” Pete laughed and got an elbow to the ribs for his efforts, even though it was clear to see Jocelyn took no offense.

The food was delicious, and, after her second glass of wine, Sam thought how nice this was. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent an evening like this. Sure, they talked some baseball, but not really in the context of work. No, there was no getting away from the fact that this was just an enjoyable social night out. Last time she had a night like this...probably wasn’t since Donald.

Only now, thinking about her time with Don, did she realize she usually felt sick to her stomach anytime she remembered him. But she didn’t feel sick tonight. There was none of the shame and humiliation. None of the hurt.

It was like he was gone. Finally gone after all this time.

One hard crack of his hand against her face with an intent to inflict pain. Maybe it shouldn’t have meant so much. Or had such an impact on her life. Yet it did.

Sam would be thrilled if that night no longer held any power over her. That she was finally ready to let it go and move on.

“Hey there, did we lose you?” Evan nudged her with his elbow.

Sam blinked. “Sorry, woolgathering.”

“I was just wondering if you were taking on any more clients,” Jocelyn asked.

“That’s the plan, but for right now, Evan is my one and only.” In a somewhat spontaneous moment, Sam reached over and grabbed his chin to give it a little shake. “Look at this moneymaker. Is that not the face of the next Captain America?”

“Maybe that’s your opinion because you like it so much,” Evan murmured.

She did like his face, she thought, as she pulled her hand away from his chin, letting her fingers linger over the hint of stubble that had grown since he’d shaved.

She couldn’t look away.

Suddenly it was just the two of them in the booth, with the electricity arcing between them.

Sam forced herself to break from his gaze and smiled way too widely. “Dessert, anyone?”

She turned to look for their waiter, desperate for the distraction. Instead of the young man who had been waiting on them all evening, a woman Sam would put in her late twenties was heading to their table with a young child in tow.

Sam could hear the boy, maybe six or seven, wheezing a little.

“Kelly?” Evan said. As if she was the last person he might expect to be here in this time and this place.

Sam turned to look at his expression and she could read his confusion.

Kelly. Kelly Lawson. His college girlfriend?

“I’m sorry to do this to you, Evan. I’ve been trying to find you and ran into someone down at the stadium who said you were here with the owner and...”

“Kelly, what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in seven years. My father said you called him the other day. I had no idea why.”

“I needed to find you,” she said again. Then she pushed the little boy in front of her. “Evan, this is Connor.”

“Hi, Connor,” Evan said with a small wave and a smile. Like the scene happening in front of all of them was completely normal.

It was when Sam looked over to Pete and Jocelyn to get their reaction that it started to click in. The couple was exchanging a look that said what was about to happen next was not going to be good.

But it couldn’t be bad, could it? After all, this was Evan Tanner. Kelly was the girlfriend Sam hadn’t been able to get in touch with. But Evan had said she would have nothing but good things to say about him.

Because he had loved her.

“I’m really sorry, Evan. I’m really sorry to do it this way, but I have no choice.”

“Spit it out, Kell,” Evan said, his voice a little flatter.

Kelly crouched down so that she was at eye level with her son. “Connor, could you go wait for Mommy in the lobby? Stay by that man with the menus. I won’t be long.”

The child did as instructed without protest, and Kelly clearly waited until he was out of earshot to say what she wanted to say.

“Connor...he’s your son. He’s your son, and he’s sick. I need your help.”

Yep, Sam thought. That sounded about right for her luck.

Captain America turned into a delinquent baby daddy right in front of her eyes.

“I think we’ll skip dessert,” Sam said in the void of silence.

* * *

“WHY ARE YOU doing this, Kell? You need help, I’ll help you,” Evan said, trying not to look at the kid who was sitting in the passenger seat of the cheap sedan Kelly said was her car. Equally, he was trying not to look over at Sam who was patiently waiting, leaning against the hood of his truck. He was, after all, her ride home.

“It’s the truth, Evan. Do the math. We were together that last semester in college at the end of May, and Connor was born in January. The thirteenth to be precise.”

“And that’s it? I’m supposed to believe, because the numbers sort of work, that you chose—after learning you were pregnant—to keep the baby, never tell me and wait seven years before dropping this bomb on me. Sorry, it doesn’t compute. First of all, you were adamantly pro-choice. If you didn’t want the baby, you would have aborted it.”

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