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“I’ve got time,” he reminded Javier. “And it’s not like I’m even making it out of the bullpen this year.”
Javier made a face. “I hope you keep up this stellar attitude all season. It won’t get old at all.”
“Give me until May to get my panties unbunched, that’s all I’m asking.” Chris took a deep swallow of champagne. It wasn’t the cheap kind. The organization really wanted to make their new owner feel welcome.
A smile tilted the corner of his mouth, and he scanned the room to get a look at her. Dressed in a short, red dress, one of those tight numbers that looked like it was made out of ace bandages and which revealed a nice expanse of creamy, freckled cleavage, little Magpie was a far cry from the frizzy-haired, nerdy girl who’d hung around the ballpark while her father worked. The years had really done well by her. One of the suits who’d been hovering around her all night stepped close and dropped a Bengals cap on her head. She ducked a little, then smilingly accepted her fate, pulling it carefully over her sleek gold ringlets. More suits arranged themselves around her while a reporter from the local paper snapped pictures.
Javier whistled. “So, is this where I make a sick comment about how lucky we are to be in the owner’s box?”
“Not unless you want your nose broken. That’s Ron Harper’s girl.” A fact that Chris would remind himself of every single moment of every single instance he found himself around her. Maggie hadn’t been back for twenty years, at least. If she had the same love of the game as her late father, she sure hadn’t shown it. The chances that she shared her father’s spirit of camaraderie were low.
“She’s coming over,” Javier said, nudging Chris subtly with his elbow. “Put on your kiss-ass face.”
Even better, Chris would put on his “I-know-you-saw-me-naked” face.
The smile frozen on Maggie’s face didn’t hide her mortification. Of course, she’d worry whether or not he’d bring up her clubhouse visit that afternoon. It might as well have been scrawled all over her face in Sharpie pen.
“Chris, good to see you again. And Mr. Vargas.” She put her hand out for Javier to take.
Don’t kiss it, for god’s sake. Chris watched over the rim of his champagne glass to hide his chagrin as Javier took Maggie’s slender fingers in his and lifted her hand toward his lips. With a twist of her wrist, she slipped his grasp, saying, “No, no. No.”
It took Chris a lot of self-control not to shoot champagne out his nose.
Javier cleared his throat and slipped his hand in his jacket pocket. The guy had never proven to be anything other than hopeless when dealing with women. “So, you two are on a first-name basis, huh?”
Chris met Maggie’s gaze and held it, saying, “We know each other pretty well,” before taking another sip of champagne.
“It’s silly to be formal when I’ve already seen him naked.”
Chris choked into his glass. He’d barely recovered when her assistant hurried up and whispered something into her ear. Maggie smiled at Javier. “I’m so sorry, I have to excuse myself. But I’m looking forward to a great season.”
As she passed, she laid a hand on Chris’s forearm and gave a little squeeze. “I like you in a suit.”
She’d barely left the owner’s box when Javier whistled softly. “You know you have to tap that now. Or sue her for harassment.”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea. Sleep with the owner. That won’t backfire.” On the other hand, she had to Everyone had known back in the day that Coach’s daughter had suffered a huge crush on the hotshot young pitcher. Chris wasn’t a hotshot anymore. He definitely wasn’t young. But Maggie wasn’t little Magpie anymore. She was a beautiful woman, who’d been in an embarrassing situation with him only hours before. Maybe it wasn’t too much to hope he’d get a look a what was under that tight red dress.
Or maybe she’d been fucking with him.
“There isn’t as much potential for backfire as if you slept with the general manager,” Javier pointed out. “Besides, do you really think she’s going to be heavily involved with running the team? She owns some kind of multi-billion dollar investment firm. She’s got that to take care of. I bet she won’t even be here most of the season. In fact, I would go so far as to say that she’ll sell it off.”
“Never.” He didn’t know Maggie well, but he did know that she was Ron Harper’s daughter. If their little exchange just moments ago was any indicator, it was clear she’d inherited her father’s strong will and heaps of self-confidence. Why would his stubborn streak have missed her?
“Wanna put three hundred bucks on it?” Javier asked.
“Three? Why three?” Chris handed his glass off to a waiter. “Make it five.”
