Love of the Game (9 page)

“Yeah?” Beck hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “What is it?”

“It might be a good idea if you replaced me with Paul Hernandez. That way Axel can stay here in Dallas, be close to the facilities—”

“No,” Beck said.

A small flicker of alarm lit up Kasha's face but she quickly whisked it away. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.” The GM stepped closer, a move designed to intimidate. Axel tensed, felt his hand fist involuntarily. “You agreed to serve as Axel's therapist, and you're going to follow through with your agreement, just as I'll follow through with mine.”

Kasha opened her mouth, closed it again without saying a word, and exhaled in two parts. It was a technique she'd taught him designed to release tension. It might not show in her face or body language, but she was stressed.

“Unless,” Beck said, “you have a damn good reason why not.”

“Um . . . um . . .” Kasha stammered.

“Well?” Beck glowered. “Do you?”

Kasha drew herself up tall, her eyes unreadable. “I don't know if Mr. Richmond and I are well suited.”

Beck's gaze switched to Axel. “You got a problem with her?”

“No,” Axel said.

“There you go.” Beck spread his arms wide. “You're on the case, Ms. Carlyle, until the job is done.”

Kasha gave a curt nod, swallowed, accepted her fate. “Yes, sir.”

“I'm glad we all understand each other.” Beck headed for the door. “See you back here in two weeks for the follow-up exam.”

Beck, Harrison, and the rest of the entourage left. Only Rowdy stayed behind.

Rowdy was eyeing them both, and Axel couldn't help wondering if the field manager sensed the attraction pulsing between him and Kasha. If Rowdy knew what Axel was thinking about his sister-in-law, he'd likely punch his lights out.

“What's going on?” Rowdy asked.

“Nothing. I'm going to slide on out of here. See you back in Stardust,” Kasha told Axel, and hurried out the door.

Leaving him alone with Rowdy.

His field manager settled his hands on his hips. “Something I should know about?”

“Nope.”

“Mr. Creedy told me there was an incident in the pool. Care to explain?”

“Kasha fell in and scraped her temple on the rough cement. I pulled her out and doctored her up. She's fine now.”

“She fell in?” Rowdy looked skeptical.

“She did.”

“Kasha, the yoga girl? Who is the most balanced person I know both mentally and physically, fell into the pool?”

Axel shrugged, tried his best to stay loose and noncommittal.

“And you went in after her?”

“Hey, she hit her head. I didn't know if she was knocked out or not. I had to go in.”

“How did that happen?”

Axel shifted from foot to foot. “We were playing catch.”

“Kasha? Playing catch?”

“It was part of my therapy.” Axel offered up a sheepish grin. “And she's a lot more fun than you might imagine.”

“Oh really?” Rowdy said. “You know more about her in a week than I do, and I've been her brother-in-law for two years?”

“I didn't say that.”

“So there you both were, wet, alone . . .” Rowdy trailed off.

The conversation shot Axel back to that moment. How he'd pulled Kasha from the pool and carried her into the house. How they'd been squeezed into that enclosed bathroom together, so close her scent breached all his boundaries. Looking into those endless brown eyes, her head wrapped so fetchingly in that blue towel, breathing in time with her, feeling more alive than he'd felt since . . .

Well, since Dylan had died.

Oh shit. He was in deep, and now he got why Kasha had told Beck she wanted off his case. The sizzle between them was too hot to handle.

But he
would
handle it. Axel rotated his injured shoulder, loosening things up, shaking unwanted thoughts from his mind. She was healing him, and he couldn't jeopardize that. Kasha was his ticket back.

“You're not going to do anything to put her job in jeopardy,” Rowdy said, looming over him. It wasn't a question, but an implicit statement.

“Absolutely not.”

“Because the Carlyles are family. Breeanne's sisters are
my
sisters.”

“Gotcha.” Axel bobbed his head, pushed up off the exam table to level the playing field.

“You're not hooking up with Kasha?”

“What?” Axel feigned effrontery. “No. Of course not.”

“Because while she looks tough, underneath it all, she's a big softie.”

“Kasha is safe with me,” Axel promised, holding up both hands and wagging them back and forth.

“Glad we got that straightened out,” Rowdy said.

“Um . . . me too.” Axel swallowed against the heavy feeling weighing down the center of his chest. Feeling Rowdy's stern glare boring through him, Axel pasted on a smile, acted like he was the most contented guy on the face of the earth.

“You still interested in going to the Yankees?” Rowdy's abrupt change of subject caught Axel off guard.

Was he?
“Hell yes. Why? Is something up? Have they expressed interest?”

Rowdy shook his head. “I'm just information gathering. No trades are gonna happen until you're healthy. First get that shoulder healed.”

“I'm working on it,” Axel promised, wondering exactly what Rowdy wasn't telling him. Was a trade to the Yankees in the offing? Just the thought of it sent a thrill buzzing through his veins. “Doing my best.”

“Good,” Rowdy said. “That's all that counts.”

Axel didn't believe that. Not for a second. What counted was not just healing, but coming back stronger than ever. That is, if he wanted to live his dream of playing for the Yankees.

Right now, that dream seemed awfully fuzzy and very far away, despite the good news he'd just gotten
from Dr. Harrison. And now he was going to go back to Rowdy's house in the country and would continue to see Kasha day after day.

On the one hand, it was great.

On the other? It was an unqualified mess. He was her patient, and he wanted her. Desperately. Wanted her, but couldn't have her. Had to keep his hands off her, because she was his best chance of reclaiming his lifelong dream of pitching for the Yankees.

And he simply could not jeopardize that.

K
asha had mixed feelings about Axel's improvement. She was happy for him and the fact that she still had a job. Yay!

But part of her was worried about her ability to control herself around him. Ever since that day she fell in the pool, her grip on her self-control had been tenuous. And now she had two more weeks of putting her hands all over his hot body as she guided him through his therapy.

It was too much.

Until now, until Axel Richmond, she'd had no trouble sublimating her sexual desires. But there was something about him that torched all her best intentions. Which was precisely why she should stay away from him.

But she couldn't. Their futures were intertwined.

He was her job.

It was essential she never forget that.

Grateful that she hadn't had to drive home with him, she returned to Stardust resolved to keep her feelings to herself. Too bad she couldn't do the same with her hands.

Late that afternoon she walked into her house on the edge of Stardust and circled the hope chest coffee table in the middle of her living room.

Seriously, she should give the thing to Suki. No hope chest wishes for her. If she did indeed get custody of Emma, it was most unlikely she'd find a guy who'd
want to marry a woman with the lifelong responsibility of caring for a mentally challenged younger sister.

And she had no problem with that. Her sister was the most important thing in the world to her. Much more so than some fictional future husband she wasn't even sure she ever wanted.

At the thought of Emma, her heart hopped, and she couldn't help smiling. She was going to have her sister on Sunday and Monday of the upcoming Memorial Day holiday.

But she still hadn't told her parents about Emma. The family had been in a tizzy over Breeanne's infertility news and she wanted to give them time and space to digest it.

Is that the only reason? Could it also be because you don't want to have to revisit the night Dan Carlyle found you covered in blood in their garden shed?

Yes. True, true, true.

That wasn't the full reason. Total honesty here, she'd been putting off saying the words, because saying them would open that old can of worms she'd buried deep. With the news of her half sister had come understanding. She finally knew the reason her biological parents were dead.

Because Emma existed.

While the good part of Kasha wanted her sister with all her heart, did a small ugly dark part blame the girl? And ultimately, that's what Kasha was avoiding facing.

The cause of the scars.

The black spot on her soul.

She'd fought so hard to come back from that terrible place. Kasha ran trembling hands over her upper thighs.

Unsettling and unresolved feelings swirled around
inside of her. Whenever she felt like this she knew the cure. Had discovered the secret to grace under fire when she was a disturbed fifteen-year-old and frantic with ferocious feelings.

Yoga.

That's what she needed right now. It would help her sort this out.

Kasha was in the middle of a headstand when there was a knock on her door. Before she could decide whether she wanted to invite the visitor in or not, Suki bounced into the room wearing an extremely short denim skirt, jade green leggings, and a tight-fitting green silk shell.

“Just how much freaking yoga do you practice?” Suki asked, sinking down into a cross-legged position in front of Kasha.

Sighing, Kasha slowly lowered her legs to the floor, and sat up to face her sister. “As much as it takes.”

“Something eating you?”

“What makes you ask?” An errant bra strap had slipped down her arm, and she tucked it back inside her striped tank top.

“You over-yoga whenever you're upset.”

“How do you know I'm overdoing it? This might be my first yoga session of the day.”

“Is it?”

“No.”

“How many?”

“Third one,” Kasha admitted.

“Three hours of yoga by five in the afternoon?” Suki clicked her tongue—tsk, tsk. “Spill it. What's bugging you?”

“Nothing,” she said.

Suki sent her a chiding stare.

“Nothing I want to talk about,” Kasha amended.

“Trouble at work?”

“What was it you wanted?”

“How could you be having problems on the job? You're working with some of the hottest guys in sports. Oh!” Suki snapped her fingers. “Is it a drool issue? Can't stop drooling over the hunks?”

“I'm not letting you get to me,” Kasha said mildly.

“Should I redouble my efforts?”

“Just tell me why you're here?”

“That doesn't sound very warm and welcoming. Where's your yogic spirit?”

Kasha cleared her throat.

“Right, you're not rising to the bait.” Suki pantomimed curling her index finger into a hook, and latching it around her mouth and into her cheek.

“Correct. I'm not a catfish.”

“I brought you something.” Suki rotated, sat back on her feet, knees against the floor. She reached for her purse—a green bejeweled drawstring pouch she'd made herself—loosened the pucker, and pulled out a skeleton key.

Kasha rolled her eyes.

“Don't be dismissive. Someone brought it into the antiques store today and I have a good feeling about it because it has the same heart-shaped handle as the two keys Breeanne and Jodi found. Of course, I immediately thought of you.”

“Lucky me.”

“You're supposed to say, Thank you, Suki.” She shoved the key into Kasha's hand.

Kasha palmed the key. It was warm against her fingers. “Thank you, Suki,” she parroted.

“Well . . .” Suki cocked her head, rested her hands on her knees.

“Well what?”

“Aren't you going to open the trunk?”

Kasha shook her head.

“Aww, c'mon. Why not?”

“I don't believe in that silly prophecy.”

“How can you not believe?” Suki stared at her as if she were a lemon growing on a turnip vine. “After what happened with Breeanne and Jodi?”

“They didn't find their true love because of a magical hope chest, Suki. It makes no logical sense.”

Suki whacked Kasha's forehead with the heel of her hand.

“Ow.” Kasha pulled back. “What was that for?”

“Being so damn duh.”

“Duh about what?”

“You need a guy. You're thirty. Your ovaries are withering on the vine.”

“Why do you give two figs about my ovaries?”

“Well, now that Breeanne can't have her own kids, it's time for you to step up to the plate. Jodi's already doing her part.”

“Me? Why not you?”

“I'm only twenty-five, far too young to settle down. But you? You're headed for spinsterhood fast.”

Kasha rolled her eyes again.

“Let's try the key. What's it gonna hurt?”

Kasha waved a hand at the hope-chest-turned-coffee-table. “Have at it. Be my guest.”

“You have to open it.”

“Why? Seriously, go ahead.”

“Because Jodi gave the hope chest to you.”

“Big deal. Now I'm giving it to you.”

Suki sank down on the floor, looked at Kasha with disappointed eyes. “You don't believe in the prophecy. You've got a PhD. You are too smart for that. I get it. But Kasha, what if you're wrong? What if there
is a little magic in the world? A little woo-woo stuff no one understands, but it works just the same? You of all people, Miss Yoga Girl, ought to be able to get behind that.”

“Practicing yoga doesn't make me gullible.”

“As I recall you were the one egging Jodi on when she didn't want to open the trunk.”

“That was Jodi. She needed love in her life.”

Suki leaned over to knock Kasha on the forehead with her fist. “For a smart chick you can sometimes be really thick.”

“Oh for crying out loud, give me the damn key.” Kasha held out her hand, irritated that she was letting Suki get to her. “Odds are it won't fit any of the remaining locks anyway.”

Kasha crawled to the trunk, stuck the key in the top lock, and tried to turn it.

Suki wailed, “Nooooo!” and clutched the sides of her head with both hands.

She startled. “What is it?”

“You didn't make a wish first.”

“That's okay, the key didn't turn anyway.”

“Oh good.” Suki dropped her hands, straightened her shoulders. “Move on to the next lock, but this time
make a freaking wish first
!”

“Stop yelling.”

“Stop messing with my head.”

Kasha blew out her breath. To keep Suki happy, she would make a wish. What did she want? She paused, read the cryptic message engraved on the lid of the trunk.

Treasures are housed within, heart's desires granted, but be careful where wishes are cast,
for reckless dreams dared dreamed in the heat of passion will surely come to pass.

Heat of passion.

That's what scared her. To the core of her being. To the seat of her soul. Her biological parents had been passionate people, who loved and warred violently in equal measures.

And that passion destroyed them. Kasha wasn't passionate about anything, and she was not reckless.

You were reckless. Almost. With Axel.

Kasha shook her head. She had to forget about the kiss that had not happened. She hadn't crossed a line.

“What are you going to wish for?” Suki asked. “You don't have to tell me, but you have to make a wish.”

Kasha read the hope chest lid again. What was her heart's desire?

Emma.

She wanted Emma, and she had an excellent chance of getting her without the silly prophecy. And wanting her half sister was neither reckless nor passionate. Safe wish. Safe bet.

Smiling at Suki, she slipped the key into the second lock, wished silently,
Emma
.

The key did not turn.

Disappointment hit the bottom of her belly, and for a silly second she thought,
I'm not going to get Emma
.

Darn, she was letting Suki get her worked up. Cool. Calm. Breathe.

“Go on.” Suki nudged her with her toe. “Try the third one.”

The third one was the last one because Breeanne's key had opened the fifth lock, Jodi's the fourth.

Wishing she hadn't started this mess in the first
place, Kasha wrapped her fingers around the old metal key gone warm in her palm, and slipped it into the third lock.

Please, let me gain custody of Emma.

Turned the key. The lock clicked.

Kasha gasped.

“It opened!” Suki squealed. “I knew it would work. Holy cow, Kash, it opened. Lift the lid.”

An undercurrent of emotion she couldn't name raised goose bumps on Kasha's arms. Now that the lock was opened, she did not want to look inside. All she wanted was to lock it up again.

But Suki wasn't going to sit still for that. She cleared her throat loudly, drummed her fingers on the hope chest, “Growing old waiting on you.”

Forced into a corner, Kasha pushed back the hinges on the third compartment of the hope chest to find a rectangular wooden box inscribed with another saying.

To sip, to savor, one drink of love intoxicates two spirits, fusing one to the other forever in infinite passion beyond time and space.

Kasha felt the breath slip from her lungs in a long, soft pull. She didn't inhale, not even when her chest started to ache and her head buzzed dizzily.

Passion.

That word again. She wanted no part of it. Or what was in that box. Passion destroyed. Wrecked lives. Ruined people. Crushed souls. Killed love.

“Kash?” Suki sounded worried, touched Kasha's shoulder with a gentle hand. “You okay?”

Finally, she inhaled, felt her entire body go cold. “Fine.”

“You sure?”

Kasha forced a bright smile, but she could tell Suki wasn't falling for it. “Terrific.”

“Want me to open the box for you?”

“Maybe we shouldn't open it at all.”

“You afraid there might be something to the prophecy?”

“No.”
Yes
.

“Then open that sucker up. I have a feeling there's vino inside,” Suki said.

Reluctantly, Kasha opened the box, and just as Suki predicted, there was a bottle of wine inside it. The label was sepia, the lettering faded. She could barely make out that it was a merlot dubbed True Love.

She turned it over. The bottled date was unreadable, and it did not contain the surgeon general's warning. Around the neck of the bottle, tied with a thin white string, was a small piece of yellowed paper, and written in the flourishing script of a quill pen were the words: “TASTE ME.”

A similar Alice in Wonderland type message that had been on Breeanne's scarf—“TOUCH ME.” And Jodi's perfume bottle—“SMELL ME.”

“I'll get a corkscrew and two glasses.” Suki hopped to her feet.

“I'm not drinking it.”

Suki stopped, whirled around, and sank her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”

“I have no idea where that bottle came from, or how old it is. There's no winery name on it. The wine could have turned.”

“It's sealed. I'm sure it's fine.”

“I'm not rolling the dice.”

“C'mon, what's the worst that could happen? It tastes like vinegar.”

“Or it's loaded with organic arsenic.”

“A small amount of arsenic is in many wines. One sip won't kill you.” Suki turned and headed for the kitchen.

“Why are you pressuring me?” Kasha called after her.

Suki reappeared with a corkscrew and a single wineglass. “Don't you want to find love?”

“I didn't wish for love, and even if I did I wouldn't be laying it all on the turn of a key.”

“What did you wish for?”

“I'm not telling you.”