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For several seconds, Amanda froze, mesmerized by the man who’d gotten under her skin and refused to leave. The activity around them slipped into the distance and she searched his gaze for answers on why he’d suddenly gone cold. He gave her nothing in that look. Nothing to hint at what he felt. And, lord help her, as much as she’d hoped to snub Brad, she felt his attention in every inch of her body. If only she had an On-Off button.
Someone asked Brad a question and he gave the reporter his focus. Amanda forced herself to scan the rest of the room for another interview.
She decided to talk to Casey, always an easy mark for conversation. “You see the follow-up interview Jack did with me?” he asked.
“I did,” Amanda said. “Good stuff.”
He lowered his voice, his tone flirtatious. “I’d like a real interview with you. One without references to Brad and garters. Something more personal. Just about me.”
“Soon,” she said, regretting her choice to chat with him. She wasn’t up to his flirtation and games.
“Tonight,” he said. “I’ll buy you a drink at the after party.”
She was going to make the briefest of appearances at the party, get what she needed, and be gone. “Not that soon.” When he appeared ready to argue, she added, “Soon, though. I promise. I’ll make the garter thing up to you. Let me think of an angle that will really make you shine and we’ll set it up.” She pretended to wave at someone behind him. “I need to run.” She darted away.
Player after player, Amanda worked the room, determined to finish her job before the crowd cleared and she ended up in an awkward situation with Brad. She couldn’t avoid him forever, but she sure could tonight.
Amanda waited until four reporters surrounded him and approached. Questions flowed one after another while she remained silent. Everything that came to Amanda’s mind seemed like a betrayal of a confidence she had with Brad. Then a reporter asked Brad the same question she would have, if this had been anyone but Brad. “Can we expect you back with the Rays next year?”
“Right now, expect me on the mound. I can’t tell you what colors I’ll be wearing.”
Amanda knew in that moment she had a job to do. She couldn’t hold back because she’d slept with Brad. She cleared her throat and decided to go for it. “When can we expect to know?”
His attention zeroed in on Amanda, his tone sharp. “Right after I know.”
“Who are your top prospects?” another reporter asked, following her lead.
“That’s not something I’m willing to discuss just yet.” He let his gaze travel from the person he was addressing back to Amanda. “But what I can tell you is this. I’m focused on my career. Dedicated and ready to be a leader wherever I play.”
She knew he was talking to her, telling her what he didn’t have the balls to tell her in private. He had to focus on his career, not her. Amanda smiled and she made sure it was big one. “Well,” she said, “that’s good news to those of us who prefer the idea of seeing you on the field rather than off.”
Shock registered on his handsome face. She’d scored her own point. No way was she letting this too-confident and cowardly man know what he meant to her. She stood her ground for the other questions, enjoying the discomfort she sensed in him.
She had a job to do, a dream of her own to achieve. Brad Rogers was not going to stop her. She wasn’t giving up anything over a pitcher who just happened to know her strike zone.
20
THREE WEEKS LATER, they were back in Dallas for the first round of playoffs. Amanda walked into the café of the hotel where she and the team were staying, preparing to face the firing squad called her sister. She’d been avoiding Kelli for two days now.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Kelli. It was more that she didn’t want to deal with the emotions that would surface when she was with Kelli. Her sister had a way of seeing through her toughest shell. And right now, Amanda needed to maintain the thick wall she’d erected.
Knowing Kelli would be checking out her attire, Amanda had selected her outfit carefully. She went with a pair of casual Ralph Lauren navy pants and a matching shell with a sporty half-sleeve jacket. And, of course, she wore heels. Navy with white trim.
Amanda had barely hit the door of the restaurant when she heard her name called out. Searching for the source, she found Kurt sitting at a table of about ten players. Brad sat beside him. Amanda raised a hand, intending to go on her own way, but Kurt motioned her forward.
