Payoff Pitch (Philadelphia Patriots) (45 page)

“Listen, Taylor, I’m not blind and I’m not stupid.” He took a long draft from his bottle, making her wait. “I can figure out when I’m about to be screwed,” he finished in a hard voice.

She looked down, twisting the ring on her right hand, one with some big gemstone in a bluish purple shade. “Then let me ask you a hypothetical question, Ryan, if I may. If you
were
put up for trade, where would you like to end up?” She unleashed another bone- melting smile in his direction. “Obviously, you’ll have a say in the matter since you’ve got five and ten status.”

Five and ten status, meaning players with at least ten years in the major leagues and five consecutive years with their current team. Under baseball’s rules, those players could only be traded with their consent.

Hypothetical, my ass.

“A say? Not much of a one,” Ryan replied curtly. “You know a guy in my position can’t dictate terms. Not many teams are going to want me, given my recent, shall we say, defensive challenges. And if I refuse to be traded at all, the team would just make me ride the bench and then dump me at the end of my contract. By that time, I’d be so rusted out nobody would want me anymore. You know that’s how it works as well as I do.”

She pressed her lips inward, lowering her gaze ever so slightly. She knew he was right. The best he could bargain would be to get the Hornets to make a deal with some other team he could live with. New York, Boston, Cleveland, Baltimore—pretty much anybody in the AL other than the west coast teams or Texas would probably fit the bill. And even that would be a tough go for him and his agent to pull off.

Taylor raised her lovely blue eyes again. “Still, you must have some definite preferences, and I’m sure you’ll make them known.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes, as if doing so could help him see into her brain. She had to be trying in a roundabout way to sound him out about going to Philadelphia. Actually, everything being equal, he’d love to play in Philly—it was close to home, close to Devon’s school, and a great city with appreciative and loyal baseball fans. There was one big problem—there was no American League team in Philadelphia.

“Hell, yeah,” he answered, deciding to play along for the moment. Although not the most pleasant topic, he had no desire to break off the conversation. Taylor Page was easy to talk to and even easier to look at. His eyes had taken in every inch of her flawless skin and had dipped a little south several times—too many times, really, which probably made him a sexist asshole—to that tantalizing cleavage of hers. But any healthy male under the age of eighty would have a hard time keeping his eyes off those sweet assets all night. He’d only ever seen her in business attire, and her filmy, sexy top had revealed a surprisingly lush figure.

“And?” she prompted.

“If I can’t stay in Pittsburgh, I only want to go to another team in the northeast. For obvious reasons, it’s got to be an AL team.”

Taylor’s brows arched. “Are you sure they’re so obvious?” She sipped at her beer for the first time since he sat down.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked incredulously. “With the way I play defense these days?”

Oh, Jesus. The Patriots really must be interested in me.
Ryan had a sick feeling in his gut, even though he couldn`t imagine why they`d want him.

“Besides,” he continued, “there’s no reason I couldn’t DH for another six or seven years with an AL team.”

Taylor blinked once and her mouth twisted a little, as if she’d had a momentary stab of pain. Ryan got the feeling she didn’t like his answer, and that spiked his concern.

“Sure, you’ve got some challenges on defense because of all those injuries,” she said with an argumentative note to her honey-toned voice. “That’s common knowledge. But you’re as good at the plate now as you’ve ever been. You’re a solid run producer, and you’ve got a lot of baseball left in you, as far as I can see.”

Ryan mentally blinked. Hell, the woman sure knew how to butter up a guy who was feeling down. Though Taylor was only stating what was clear to anybody from his stats, somehow when the words came from that lovely, earnest face they sounded sincere and penetrated deep.

But he shook away the moment of unfurling pleasure. What was she up to, anyway? What message was she sending him? None of it seemed to be making much sense.

V.K. Sykes is really two people – Vanessa Kelly and Randy Sykes, a husband and wife team who write USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance and also romantic suspense. Randy excels at plot and characterization, but tends to fall down on the job when it comes to that pesky old thing called emotion. That’s where Vanessa steps in. She usually writes the sex scenes too, since Randy is a bit uncomfortable when it comes to that sort of stuff. Vanessa also writes award-winning Regency-set historical romance for Kensington Zebra under her own name. You can check out Vanessa’s bestselling historical romances at
www.vanessakellyauthor.com
.

And please visit V.K. Sykes at
www.vksykes.com
for a complete list of books.