The Heart Of The Game (3 page)

“I’ve never been called practical.” His grin broadened. “I’ll add it to my arsenal of useful qualities.”

“World beware,” she said with a light laugh at the thought of Parker adding to his already numerous charms.

“That’s the sound I prefer to hear coming from you.”

“I’m... out of practice. And this fiasco isn’t helping.”

“It’ll be okay. Aronelli can brief Cody and play number three; he’s ready. Like I said, Cody can ride in the four spot and play defense.”

Parker pulled his arm from her shoulder, wincing and flexing his right wrist.

“You should ice that again.”

“I’ll grab more ice from the bar.”

She followed his gaze downfield to where the grooms for the opposing team were winding protective wraps around their thoroughbreds’ forelegs. A broad-chested man leaned on his mallet, supervising.

“Kimo was a ranch hand in Panama,” Parker said with a nod to the man. “He’s been playing polo since he could walk.”

“Having Kimo on the opposing team does
not
cheer me.”

She’d only ever seen the famed player on television. To have him ride in this charity match was a boon. But an opponent with his skill didn’t bode well for her handicapped team’s chances of winning.

“We outrode him in Palm Beach last year, five goals to one.”

“
We
is the operative word there.”

“Have a little faith.” Parker offered his uninjured arm and turned her toward the end of the polo field. “We’ll give the crowd a good game. But for God’s sake, when you meet Cody, don’t go talking up how hard polo is. It took me the better part of an hour to convince him to ride today. You’re lucky he arrived early, that he has a soft spot for kids in need
and
that Alex invited him to attend our little soiree in the first place.” He winked at her. “And
truly
fortunate that Cody’s just cocky enough to take on the challenge.”

Cocky
.

Polo players might swagger, they might have dash, and the best of them had their tanned, chiseled faces plastered on menswear and perfume ads, but cocky never made up for skill and experience. Didn’t she know.

“The garlands weren’t even askew,” she muttered under her breath as they passed by the tent. Both dogs sniffed the air and drifted toward the tables laid out with food.

“But they
were
, darling. Details. You know what they say— God is—”

“Don’t patronize me, Parker.”

She called over one of her grooms and directed him to take the dogs to the back paddock.

Parker took her hand. “C’mon. You’ll feel better when you see Cody riding.”

At least the field was ready. Her father had put it in while she’d been in Argentina—one more bribe to encourage her to settle in. And without consulting her he’d had her thoroughbreds flown over from Italy the week before she’d returned to Sonoma. She would’ve spared the horses the arduous journey, because as soon as she was satisfied that her father would be okay, she’d be heading back home and taking her team with her.

When they reached the staging area, her cousin Alex met them.

“Sorry I’m late.” Alex delivered a kiss to both of her cheeks. “Trouble over at Trovare.” He swept his arms toward the blue sky and the Sonoma Mountains ridging the horizon to the west. “Perfect day for a party.”

Parker harrumphed. “That’s what I’ve tried to impress upon our sweet cousin.”

Alex frowned. “You’re not suited up.”

Parked held out his hand. “Sprained my wrist.”

“Adjusting a
garland
,” Zoe added.

Alex studied Parker’s swelling wrist. “You should ice that.”

Parker smiled at Zoe. “So I’ve been told.”

Thundering hooves had Zoe’s gaze turning to the field. The man riding Parker’s pony and wearing jersey number four looked as though the rippling muscles of his broad shoulders and the bulges of his biceps might bust the seams of Parker’s polo jersey.

Parker had one of the strongest bodies in the game, but Cody Bond filled out Parker’s uniform and then some. The defined muscles of his thighs stretched the borrowed polo trousers and screamed strength. He had thighs that could hold on to a horse, no doubt about that.

A smug smile curled Parker’s lips. “I told you our man Cody could ride. Once you meet him, you’ll discover that he also has a brain wired for competition.”

“Polo requires finesse, not a trait I’ve ever heard associated with American cowboys.”

“Cody might surprise you then.”

Alex squinted out at the field, shading his eyes with his hand. “
Bond’s
playing polo?”

Parker eyed Alex. “Do
not
go precious ballplayer on me. It’s horses and balls. Cody rode broncs, so I believe he’s got the touch.”

Alex whistled. “Another sport for the front office to add to the list of disallowed activities for ballplayers,” he said with a laugh.

They watched, riveted, as Cody charged down the field toward the ball. The image of a knight in battle flashed in Zoe’s mind.

Ridiculous
.

But her throat tightened as he swung his mallet and struck the ball.

Cody’s shot arced perfectly and soared through the goal. He circled and reined up beside Aronelli. Aronelli congratulated him. Cody only shook his head and trained his focus as Aronelli ran through a series of strategic blocking maneuvers. They practiced the allowed angles of approach, angles carefully specified to protect both horse and rider.

Zoe ran the rules through her mind, making sure Aronelli didn’t skip any—no approaching at less than a forty-five-degree angle, no crossing the line of the ball, no infringing on the right of way of another player. She heard Aronelli shout and saw Cody rein up. If Cody didn’t learn what constituted a foul, it wouldn’t matter how well he rode or whether his aim was good.

“It’s simply not possible for him to learn the game in an hour, nobody could,” Zoe said as the rest of the team formed up around Cody and Aronelli and began to run offensive drills on the field.

“Having him ride is your only chance for a match today,” Parker said.

“Unless you want me to ride for you,” Alex said with a grin.

Zoe turned to him. “You fell off Arabella—a sweet little pony—when you were six.”

“And haven’t been on a horse since.” Alex’s wink did nothing to cheer Zoe. He looked over to Parker. “Have the powers of the universe swapped this Princess of Darkness for our happy, optimistic cousin?”

Her cheeks flamed. It was true. The long days and longer nights of caring for her dying mother and then being uprooted from Italy had dimmed her spirit more than she wanted to admit.

Parker slid his arm from hers and grinned. “The two of you can debate the powers of darkness—not my forte. I’m heading over to check on the caterers. If the meal’s not good, you’ll see what real trouble looks like.”

She wanted to thank him as he strode away. She should’ve thanked him. But her attention was riveted to the players on the field. Her cousins knew that polo was her passion, her lifeline. And right now that spark of passion was all that kept her from dropping into the abyss of depression. If anyone had told her that grief could sneak in and cast an ugly cloud of numbness over everything, she wouldn’t have believed them.

She believed now.

Alex stood beside her, watching the action in silence. He knew what it felt like to lose a parent that you loved with all your soul—he’d lost his own father seven years before. There weren’t any words that could dissolve the deep ache.

Cody made a difficult shot on the goal, and Alex squeezed her hand. Alex was a champion athlete, knew the power of a game. He also knew what winning meant to her. The ball flew true and the boy holding the flag beside the goal posts waved it with enthusiasm.

Dust flew as her team rode to the sideline. One of the local men she’d hired to help for the day offered cups of cold water to the riders as they dismounted.

The grooms led the horses off to be brushed and watered and walked. Keeping them moving was critical if they were to be ready for the match. The second line of horses was ready in the back paddock. She had only eight horses, but they’d just have to do.

“Show time,” Alex said. “I should introduce you to your new champion.”

Zoe plastered on a smile and walked with Alex over to her team. Everybody was trying to make the event work. The least she could do was be grateful.

As they approached, Cody had his back turned, and Aronelli was giving last-minute rules instruction. She hoped Cody could understand Aronelli’s thick Italian accent and limited English. Lanz and Tiero were eyeing them from behind their cups as they relaxed on a bench at the side of the field. She could only imagine what the two world-class players thought of this whole charade.

“Bond,” Alex said, reaching out to tap Cody on the back. “Meet my cousin Zoe.”

Cody turned.

“And, Zoe, meet Cody Bond. Your new number four.”

Zoe barely heard the introduction as she met Cody’s gaze. A smile curved his lips, and she could’ve sworn the area within several feet of him brightened, as if a light beamed out extravagantly in an already bright day. Her brothers and cousins were handsome alpha-male types, but Cody was not only handsome, he had a rough, chiseled look and a body that reminded her of a mythic hero. A light sheen of perspiration glistened on the angular planes of his face, evidence of his exertion and effort in the already warm day.

And if she wasn’t completely
fuori di testa
, she detected a glint of mischief lurking in his eyes. She mumbled a quick “pleased to meet you, thank you for doing this” as her mind did a rapid search, grasping to categorize, to make safe, to simply
fence in
the feelings shooting through her.

Cowboy
.

Wild.

Power
.

She recalled snippets of conversation when Alex had talked about the hot young catcher from Montana. She shook off the whispers of her mind—and the very stimulated signals her alert body was sending out—squared her shoulders and mustered a smile that did nothing to quell the wave of energy that rose in her body with a will of its own.

Cody took off his riding glove and extended his hand. The gentle morning breeze wafted the scent of sweat and male to her. His scent. She shouldn’t be so aware of such a detail, not at a time like this. But the scent of him coursed through her, mesmerizing and drug-like, finding its way to receptors she hadn’t known were waiting.

Heat flooded her when her fingers met his, flushing her cheeks and sending a fast buzz shocking into her, a feeling she’d imagined could only be conjured in private fantasies. She lowered her gaze to their joined hands. His were strong hands, capable hands. Hands she could imagine streaming pleasure into her body. She bit back the primal, sexual shock spiking straight to her core—the absolute last thing she expected to be feeling right then.

“I’m not a polo player, ma’am.”

Cody’s low, velvety tone could’ve soothed the buzz spreading in her veins like honey spiked with cayenne, but as she looked up into his gaze, heat spread to places she’d lately been trying to ignore.

“Rodeo’s more my style. But I’ll do my best.”

This time his mouth relaxed into a half smile, but the flicker of emotion in his eyes told her leagues more.

“Don’t worry, Zoe.” Alex drew her attention away from Cody, grinning knowingly at her when she looked up at him. “Like me, Cody gets paid to aim. You’re in good hands.”

Good or not, she wasn’t sure, but Cody’s hands bespoke a power she’d never felt before. And his sexy, easy smile called out to a place in her that longed to come out and play.

Cody released Zoe’s hand, but she held him with her direct gaze. Alex hadn’t bothered to mention that his cousin Zoe was a beauty. A beauty with wide emerald eyes and honey-kissed hair. In fact, Alex hadn’t mentioned that his cousin was a woman. A woman with the lithe build of an athlete matched with curves that wouldn’t be tamed by any sport. A woman with a smile that transfixed him and bowed, lush lips that fired up an immediate desire to taste.

“I appreciate you taking this on at the last minute.” The sensuous rhythm of Zoe’s accent skewered him.

His soft spot for women with foreign accents had gotten him in trouble more than once. Listening to her, he remembered why.

“Anything for the kids,” he said, shoving down the unexpected urge to kiss her. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of a glove and tried to unscramble his brain.

Beautiful women tended to jam his careful logic and well-formed plans like a stealth laser jamming radar. After being called up from the minor leagues, he’d sworn he wouldn’t get distracted from his regimented focus by a pretty face. Zoe Tavonesi was a helluva lot more than that. He’d have to keep his distance, his head straight and his pants on.

He shouldn’t have agreed to ride. But the thrill of a challenge was a dangerous addiction. So was his danged inability to refuse to help out when help was needed.

When Alex’s cousin Parker had asked him to fill in and ride in the match that morning—was it only two hours ago?—telling him what the prize money could fund for the kids, he couldn’t refuse.

Alex was the team captain of the Giants, a world-famous All-Star. He had influence and respect that he’d earned and which Cody admired. It didn’t take a genius to know that if Alex thought well of a guy, the Giants front office noticed. He wanted Alex to think well of him. He might be riding the bench during the playoffs, but he was in the show and he was ready. And he’d take help from any quarter to secure his place in next year’s lineup. Besides, he liked Alex. He would’ve agreed to help under any circumstance.

And he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was up for the thrill.

But the zing Cody had felt when he touched Zoe’s hand was likely more lethal than the challenge of riding the upcoming match. He’d only felt that ramped-up, heady and out of control hunger once before, but he knew the signs. He’d paid then. And he’d better be careful or he’d pay again.

He’d seen Zoe when he’d first ridden onto the field. The motions of her hands had caught his eye as she’d talked with Parker near the tent. Something in her movement, something in the way she threw her head back when she laughed, the sound of it drifting across the field like a song he wanted to hear, was... What?
Destiny
? The word formed in his mind, shocking him.

He didn’t believe in such nonsense. His mother did, and look what such crazy notions had brought her—years of misery with his alcoholic father. Focus and control, those were the tools that kept him from making a mistake like hers, a mistake driven by losing track of clear thinking and solid logic.

Cody shifted his weight and reined in his racing thoughts.

He’d learned to plot his path and follow his plans, leaving destiny to those who didn’t have the guts to carve their own futures.

But no matter the warnings his head delivered, he’d watched Zoe in his peripheral vision when he wasn’t concentrating on understanding Aronelli’s broken English and learning the game that just might kick his butt. He’d thought she was one of the catering staff. And wished now that she had been. Working girls were more his style than sophisticated Italian heiresses could ever be. He was a self-made man from a small town—he had no skills for dealing with a high-class princess. He didn’t need the rapid-fire warnings of his rational mind to remind him that she was his team captain’s cousin or to recognize she was out of his league.

But meeting Zoe had fired him up. He read people for a living—hitters, pitchers, position players. As he’d shot glances at her while she’d moved about beside Parker, he could tell she had spunk and spine; both beamed through loud and clear. And for him, a woman with spunk and spine combined with sensuous, ball-rocking beauty was almost as much of a drug as the adrenaline rush of a reckless challenge.

If he followed the heat in his groin, he’d spend a few nights getting into a snarled situation that would take more than an easy effort to exit.

He stuffed the riding glove into the pocket of the riding pants he’d borrowed from Parker. It wouldn’t be easy to resist the urges Zoe fired up. Maybe he’d been rash to give up one-night stands—he was clearly off his game if a smile and the touch of a woman’s hand made him hard in a flash.

“Zoe’s horses are well trained,” Alex said, breaking the awkward silence and dragging Cody back from his jumbling thoughts.

The practice round with Aronelli had blasted through Cody’s prejudiced opinion that polo was a game for foppish rich men; polo was a damned hard sport. He might be good at aiming balls and riding spirited horses with minds of their own, but the field drills for polo had required all his concentration just to coordinate the mallet and the horse while staying in the saddle. And that was without opposing players riding at him. He’d estimated the speed of the ball at about a hundred and ten miles an hour. It was no sport for fops. And maybe not for former rodeo riders either.

“You’ll be riding my usual mounts. They’ll feel your confidence,” Zoe said, raising her gaze and stepping back.

Confidence wasn’t what he was feeling at the moment. He’d better muster it up and focus on what mattered, or he’d be hanging from the stirrups or worse.

“Just watch that you don’t cross the line of the ball.” Her accent made the reminder sound like a recipe for bedroom play and not a sporting event.

“Aronelli drilled that point home.” Cody’s words came out more clipped than he’d intended, a sure sign he’d better get a grip and fast.

The line of the ball wasn’t the only line he’d better not cross.

But he couldn’t stop himself from appreciating Zoe’s lips, lush and full and curved up at the edges, as if a smile was as natural to her as breathing. Yet the lines around her eyes spoke of worry. He knew those lines, saw them every morning etched into his own face.

More than this off-kilter polo match was bothering her. He found himself wondering what troubled her and fighting back the dreaded, ingrained impulse to make it all better. He thought he’d beat that bad habit. Evidently not.

Alex looked from Zoe to him, and the quick spark of a question in Alex’s eyes didn’t escape Cody. He’d spent weeks studying the guys on the team. Bench time provided plenty of opportunity to study the behaviors of opponents and teammates, to learn their unspoken language, to read them in the context of the game.

Cody’s phone vibrated in his back pocket. He fished it out and saw that the call was from Hal Walsh, the Giants’ manager.

“Better take this one.” He excused himself and walked away from Zoe and Alex.

“Bond, you’re starting tomorrow,” Walsh said with his characteristic brevity. “The docs just confirmed Aderro’s not coming back this season, and Thornton has a killer flu. You’ll be batting sixth and catching Scotty Donovan.”

He must’ve said something in response to Walsh, but as Cody clicked off his phone, he couldn’t remember what. Alex raised a brow, and Cody motioned him over.

“I’m catching Donovan tomorrow.” He repeated what Walsh said about Aderro and Thornton. He didn’t have to mention that it was a big break. Catching in the NLCS playoffs was a big friggin’ deal. Especially since the game would decide if the Giants went on to the World Series.

Alex raked a hand through his hair and looked out over the polo field. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “Ride for Zoe, I mean. People will understand.”

People might, but Cody had given his word. And he never went back on his word. He wouldn’t be the reason a competition fizzled.

“Piece of cake,” Cody said.

Alex gave him the stare that made even the most seasoned pitchers quake. “We both know that’s not true.”

Cody shrugged. “Best to stay on the horse then.”

Zoe strode over from where she’d been talking with her other three players. She took a step back and tilted her head, studying Alex. “Something wrong?”

“Nah,” Cody said. “I’m just boning up on the rules.” His mind was already focused on running stats and information and plans for the bigger game he’d face the next day.

She crossed her arms. “Aronelli thinks you can do this.”

Her flat tone and stance told him she didn’t agree. Cody wasn’t used to being assessed and judged as insufficient.

He flicked his wrist and smiled. “I played lots of croquet with my sister.”

“
Polo
is not in any way like croquet,” she shot back at him.

He bit down his urge to point out the actual comparisons. Every sport had its techniques and challenges, and there were in fact similarities between the two games. He hadn’t meant to offend her. He’d been distracted by his thoughts about tomorrow’s playoff game and now regretted the flip remark. But he’d be damned if he was going to stand there and be judged by a rich, spoiled woman who didn’t know the first thing about his skill or experience.

He tipped his fingers to the riding helmet he still wore. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

He added the
ma’am,
knowing it would irk her. He really shouldn’t tease; the game was obviously important. He liked that she had a taste for competition.

She hugged her elbows in tight. “I appreciate you doing this, truly I do. It’s just that... well, it’s just that—”

She bit at her lower lip, and in the ensuing silence he couldn’t help but wonder what else she had a taste for. But the anguish Cody saw when he returned his gaze to hers dampened his smoldering desire. Something deeper than concern over this polo game ran lines of worry into her face. She squared her shoulders and hauled in a breath.

“Yes. Well, thank you. Thank you very much,” she said with an unsuccessful attempt at a smile.

He preferred her feistier tone to the resigned tone of her thank-you. But her eyes told him her gratitude was real, even if she didn’t think him up to the challenge ahead. And her body told him conflict roiled in every muscle as well as in her thoughts.

“I need to check on the gate guards,” she said to Alex. She turned an impenetrable glance to Cody. “I need to make sure they have the latest guest list.”

She stared at him for a moment. Though her eyes were green and not blue like Alex’s, she had a similar intensity to her gaze. Zoe Tavonesi was one hell of an intriguing woman. And one he had better keep at arm’s length.