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Still, no matter how he tried to convince himself of this fact, he yearned to go to Amanda, to talk to her, to touch her. To be with her.
Instead, he stayed where he was. Risking a scandal had become too dangerous. Amanda was too dangerous. He faced surgery now. The obstacles were bigger than ever. The stakes higher.
Kurt sauntered across the bar and sat on the seat across from Brad. “We’re headed to Bone Daddy’s to eat. Hot women in Daisy Dukes and killer barbecue. Wanna ride with us?”
Brad considered the offer. Maybe this was what he needed, a reminder that there was life after Amanda.
Pushing to his feet, Brad said, “Let’s roll.”
19
A WEEK AFTER their return from Dallas, Amanda stood in the press box, watching as Brad took the mound. She assumed he’d had decent news from her sister or he wouldn’t be pitching. Of course, she didn’t know for sure. She hadn’t heard from him. Not a call. Not a visit. Nothing. She hadn’t asked Kelli about him when she’d picked up her car and had avoided her sister’s prodding and probing about their relationship. At that point, Brad had already started giving her the cold shoulder and Amanda had kept her stupidity over him to herself. She didn’t need a lecture from Kelli about how crazy she’d been to fall for someone on the list.
“Nervous about tomorrow?” Reggie asked.
He was referring to her photo shoot for L.A. Woman. Apparently, since the interview was first arranged, the editors had taken further interest in her. They now planned to put her on the cover.
“Not so much,” Amanda said. “I talked with the editor on the phone for a while and really clicked with her. I felt more comfortable with her than I do with Kevin.”
Reggie grunted. “That’s not hard to do. So, tell me. Since when do you want to sit in the press box?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that question. The truth was, she felt out of sorts and needed a change, but she didn’t want to say that. “Works for everyone else. I figured I’d see why.”
“Since when are you worried about what everyone else is doing?” He didn’t give her time to answer, pointing at the field. “Rodriquez is up to bat. Did you see him on that Sports-Beat talk show last night?”
“Yeah, I saw him,” Amanda said, watching Brad wind up for his first pitch. “Talking all that junk about hitting off any pitcher in the league. Baseball players. Such a cocky bunch.”
The ball flew past the batter, untouched. “Oh, man,” Reggie said, eyes wide. “Brad is on tonight. How hard was that?”
Amanda eyed him. “Fast. It was fast. You don’t know squat about baseball, do you?”
Reggie grinned. “I usually fake it quite well.”
The announcer’s voice filled the air. “Pitcher Brad Rogers is firing in the balls tonight. That one registered at one-hundred-and-one miles per hour, folks.”
Four innings later, Brad started walking people and Amanda could tell his arm hurt. He’d pitched a great game, but from what she’d seen of him, past and present, his arm had simply given out. The coach sent in Casey to relieve with the scoreboard favoring the Rays. Unless Casey blew it, the Rays would log in another win.
“Looks like they might just make the playoffs.” Reggie vocalized what she was thinking.
“And we go back to Dallas again in about three weeks,” Amanda commented, thinking it would be her last opportunity to visit with her family for a while.
They didn’t say much for the rest of the game, Reggie appearing to read her need for space. But when the Rays won the game, they cheered together and hugged one another.
Amanda hit the locker room in the rush of reporters. She usually hung back and waited until the crowd thinned out. But not this time. Tonight her emotions over Brad were raw and she needed the security of the mass to protect her.
She made her way through the twenty or so reporters around her, trying to pick an interview victim. Unfortunately, her eyes landed on Tony, who stood buck naked as he dried his back with the towel previously around his waist. All this time and she still hadn’t gotten used to the blitz of bare butts.
Tony appeared unaffected by his nakedness, fielding questions from three male reporters, one of whom was Jack. Unwilling to be intimidated by Tony’s state of undress, Amanda worked her way into the group, a small tape recorder in her hand.
Chin tilted upward to keep her gaze on target, Amanda asked, “The pitchers walked you tonight, only two home runs from your record. What do you have to say about that?”
Jack stood directly across from her. “It’s been asked.”
“I’m asking again,” Amanda said through clenched teeth.
Apparently, Tony didn’t mind answering and he launched into a five-minute rant. Take that, Jack Ass. When Tony finally calmed, Amanda moved on, searching for her next victim. She locked gazes with Brad, who stood far too close.
