Page 12

Vivienne

This is not my first gala. It is, however, the first time I'm arriving on the arm of a player, and I'm trying not to think too hard about the fact that I've dropped my professional wall enough tonight to allow it.

For one night, the glitz and glamor of Hollywood is set against the majestic backdrop of the Rocky mountains.

Xavier eases up to the curb, putting the car in park, and when I reach for my door handle he tsks. "Don't move."

"That's not really--"

"I'm working my way up to a ten and you're not about to ruin it by refusing to let me open your door like a gentleman."

Before I can answer, he's out of the car and rounding it, and I use the seconds alone to pull myself together.

Confidence looks good on Xavier. Seeing him playful and demanding does something to me I didn't expect. The cocky catcher who's always grated on my nerves is stirring something else entirely tonight.

It's too bad Xavier's not the kind of guy I can hook up with and forget. Our lives are too tangled. And like I keep telling Tenley, I'm not interested in dating. Dating leads to serious relationships, the kind that take over your life, and I need more time to live life on my terms.

In a perfect world, I'd find the consistency of someone who cares about my experience, without the obligation of more. I've had enough of frustrating one-night stands. Still, I can't help but think that if more were on the table, Xavier doesn't strike me as a man who leaves the job unfinished.

He opens the door and holds out his hand to help me out of the car. Warmth floods me, turning my insides to mush. I can almost feel his hand gripping my hip, guiding me down the red carpet. The rough scrape of his calluses against my skin, the firm, claiming hold . . . it's too easy to imagine.

"Are you just gonna stare at it?" His low chuckle pulls me from my spiral. I glance down at his hand, then back up at him. He raises an eyebrow, silently teasing. It's only a hand.

I learned long ago how to take care of myself, but the slide of Xavier's rough palm against mine as he helps me out of the car is a startling reminder of how long it's been since someone else made me feel anything.

He hands his keys to the waiting valet. And then it's not just my hand in his, it's his fingertips searing me through the fabric of my dress where they rest lightly at the small of my back. Then he's guiding me away from the car. If Tenley had talked me into wearing the backless dress she loved so much, I'd be in all kinds of trouble.

It's not until he pauses in the middle of the red carpet that I realize the photographers are about to take our picture together, looking very cozy.

"Oh, um, I'll just--" I gesture toward the door. "I can head inside."

His face falls, and the sight makes my chest pinch. I rush to add, "You don't really want your picture taken with me. You're just being nice to make it up to me."

"Don't tell me what I want." His voice is firm but gentle as he nudges me closer. "I'd be an idiot not to want you at my side. You're the star of the show, and you shine like it tonight. Stunning and bright."

And just like that, I relent. Letting him pull me against his side, I look up at him and I can't stop the way my lips curve as the cameras' flashes ignite around us.

"That wasn't so bad, was it? I didn't even break anyone's camera."

"An impressive feat for an eight and a quarter."

He holds the door for me and I catch him doing a fist pump in the lobby mirror.

The ballroom is already humming with conversation and laughter when we walk in. It doesn't take long to spot our table. Dean, Mia, Dom, Indie, Hendrix, Poppy, Cruz, and Lilah are gathered there--the women seated together on one side, laughing loudly, while their partners linger on the opposite side with drinks in hand.

Dean specifically asked me to sit here to highlight Double Play's growing partnership with the team. But even knowing that, I still feel out of place. My relationship with the guys is strictly professional. And, aside from Indie, I've barely spent any time with their partners.

Xavier leans in close, pulling out my chair. His breath caresses my ear when he asks, "Can I grab you a drink?"

I open my mouth to tell him he doesn't have to do that, but he

cuts me off.

"I'll just grab you a glass of champagne. I can tell by the way you stiffened you were about to give me the brush off again." We're so close as he pushes in my chair that I doubt anyone can hear us over the music, especially when his next words are so low they're almost a whisper. "You should probably know I don't do anything I don't want to. If I'm offering you something, I mean it."

His raspy, confident voice sends a jolt through me, and I can't help but imagine what other ways I'd submit to him if he used that tone differently.

"Champagne sounds perfect." I force myself to look unaffected by the hot current that runs up my spine.

"Thanks for making that easy."

"I aim to please," I say with a light laugh, a sentiment that used to be all too true. This time, though, it feels like a choice.

I watch as Xavier joins the guys, noticing how easily they greet each other--like family--exchanging hearty pats on the back. Everyone except Dom, who pulls Xavier into a full-bodied hug.

It's only when Xavier's back is swallowed up by the crowd that I realize the laughter and chatter at the table has quieted. I turn to find the attention of my tablemates on me.

Lilah, rubbing a hand over her belly with a knowing smile, speaks first. "You came with Xavier and you don't look like you want to strangle him."

"And I'd heard you were the sweet one in the bunch." I laugh.

Indie, sitting opposite me, nods. "Don't let her fool you. She's sweet but nosey."

"It's really a lethal combination. She puts you at ease with that sweet face and then, bam, you're spilling your life story to her," Poppy adds, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. "If I'm honest, it's gotten worse during pregnancy. Now that she's only got a few months left, she's almost all momma bear."

"Awe, I love when you share our origin story," Lilah jokes, giving Poppy a playful bump with her elbow before turning her focus back to me. "But I'm more interested in hearing about what's going on with you ."

I'm grateful when Mia cuts in, saving me from the interrogation. "Are you excited? Tonight's a big deal for Double Play!"

I nod. "We've been working hard to get ready and I can't wait to see that all pay off."

"God. You're such a badass, pulling all of this together and giving a speech in front of all these people. I'd throw up all over the stage. But you're always so poised up there. I'm honestly a little jealous," Lilah says, squeezing my arm in a show of support.

"Do you ever picture the audience in their underwear, or is that advice as useless as it sounds?" Mia asks, scanning the room and pausing when she catches sight of her boyfriend.

I laugh, at ease with these women as they welcome me into the fold.

"Can't say I've ever tried that trick." Although, I might tonight. My gaze is drawn to where Xavier is standing with his back to me at the bar before I turn to Mia again and add, "I don't mind the speech. It's better than rubbing elbows with the donors by myself all night."

"Somehow, I doubt you'll be doing anything alone tonight," Indie says, her focus off in the distance. I turn my head to find her staring at the place I was. This time, Xavier and Dean are both leaning against the bar, watching us while the others wait for their drinks.

"I'm sure Dean will do his fair share of schmoozing--it's the one time he's not the grump. He lets his Beacon Hill blood shine through when it counts."

Mia shakes her head, smirking. "She wasn't talking about Dean."

I'm being ganged up on in the friendliest way possible, but I'm still not sure how to react. I glance back at the bar. Hendrix is still waiting for his drinks with the four others watching and waiting. With all the attention on me, I feel like I'm under a microscope.

"Our catcher hasn't taken his eyes off you since you walked in.There's no way he's leaving your side tonight."

"That's ridiculous. He gave me a ride because Tenley is watching Holland. Nothing more."

Mia cocks an eyebrow at me. "Sounds practical."

"It was," I assert. "I get it, you guys all are matched up with hunky baseball players, but that's not what's happening here. We agreed to a fresh start for Tenley and Holland's sake, but that's all."

"That's too bad, because he's walking back over here and the way he's looking at you is anything but friendly."

"I love it when Dom looks at me like that." Indie's get a dreamy look on her face as she talks about her husband. It's the first time I've seen her like this--the definition of smitten. Our relationship is professional, but friendly. This side of her, though, is different, softer.

"God, yes. The sex is always hot. Always . But when they get all possessive . . ." Poppy's bare shoulders tremble. "Especially after a game. There's nothing like it."

Four heads nod along with her, sly smiles tipping up all of their lips.

I laugh loudly. "As happy as I'm for you guys, that's not something I can relate to. At best, sex has always been mediocre for me"

"Mediocre . . . like you've never come?" Indie whispers, her shock widening her eyes.

"Not without a self-assist," I admit, shrugging it off.

Just then, the roughness of a warm palm brushes over my shoulder.

"Thank you," I squeak out, praying he didn't overhear. Considering we were on shaky ground until a few hours ago, that's definitely more information than I want him to know. Besides, I'm sure a man like him can't possibly relate to my mediocre sex life.

"Dance with me, wife," Dom says, pulling Indie from her seat.

"I don't know . . . dancing with you only leads to trouble." Her voice is playful, but she looks up at her husband with so much admiration. It's an intimate moment between the two, but when she doesn't immediately stand, he hauls her out of the chair and into his arms.

Two by two, the table empties until Xavier and I are alone.

"You know what's great for forging new friendships?" Xavier asks, leaning over the back of my chair so his lips are close to my ear. He's everywhere I look--one arm braced on the table in front of me, the other brushing my shoulder. God, he's big when he surrounds me like this.

"Well, if you're anything like my best friend Harlowe, it's a spit handshake."

His chuckle rumbles through me, warming my body with each vibration. Xavier's got an incredible laugh--deep and smoky, a little mysterious, and I like earning that sound from him. "Maybe we save the spit for when we know each other better . . . but I'd really like to share a dance with you."

Heat crawls up my cheeks. My conversation with the girls has hot, dirty sex on the brain, and his voice so close to my ear isn't helping. It's all too much, making my already-heated blood boil.

"Dancing could be nice," I finally say, praying the walk to the floor is enough of a reprieve to get myself under control.

Xavier pulls my chair out and I stand, following him as we weave through the crowd. I remind myself that he's just trying to make up for the first impression he made and give us a fresh start. It helps me regain some composure, and by the time we reach an open spot on the floor, I'm a little steadier.

At least, until Alexander Nate's "save this dance for me" starts up. The soulful beat and Xavier's arm sliding around my back so his palm lands on my hip make for a potent combination.

There's an intimacy in his hold as he easily glides us around the floor. I'm surprised at his grace when he spins me around only to pull me close, like the lyrics describe. His sure movements exude confidence and I choose to focus on the fact that I'm oddly proud of him for finding his footing after the camp, and not the way dancing with him has my whole body tingling.

As if he can sense I need a second, Xavier pulls his gaze from me. After a long moment, his eyes settle back on mine. "I know I already told you this, but it bears repeating. You're beautiful."

Not "you look beautiful," or "your dress is pretty." This gorgeous man thinks I'm beautiful, and he's not shy about telling me.

His words settle over me like a warm blanket and a flutter stirs low in my stomach, a combination of nervousness and something else. I open my mouth, ready to thank him, but he's not done.

"Seriously, you took my breath away when I saw you standing at my door." He fingers the strap at my shoulder, making that ripple in my belly turn into a full-blown earthquake.

His sapphire eyes are filled with intense earnestness as he focuses on me, like he's watching to make sure I really hear him.

No one's ever looked at me with such intensity. All I can do is whisper a "Thank you " before I hide my face in his lapel to escape for a moment.

For the second time tonight, his rich scent fills my senses, and it does nothing to help my scattered thoughts. Instead, it's like a drug, melting my resolve further with every breath I take. My head spins, and my pulse quickens, and for a second, all I can think about is how badly I want to be closer to him, swallowed up in that warmth and intoxicating smell.

The dance ends too soon, but the effect lingers. We stand there, as the music fades, the MC's voice a distant hum I can't focus on. Xavier stares down at me, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from my cheek. The moment seems suspended in time, and I wish it could last all night.

"Stunning," he whispers, looping the strand behind my ear. Goosebumps break out on my neck and chest as his fingers brush down the length of my neck. "Thank you for the dance."

I clear my throat, blinking up at him as I try to make sense of how a simple touch affects me so deeply. "Of course. How could I say no to someone who's so clearly a nine?" I joke, trying to ease the nerves prickling through me.

"One more to go." His velvet laugh washes over me, and it's almost too much on top of our proximity, especially after that dance.

The floor around us has emptied, so I step back, breaking our connection in an attempt to preserve what's left of my sanity. "I could use some water before my speech."

He doesn't call me on my cop-out.

Instead of ordering a drink like I expect him to, he grabs water for himself as well. It didn't go unnoticed that he came back empty-handed when he grabbed my champagne earlier, too. Curiosity wins out as I say, "Just because I'm having water doesn't mean you can't have something else."

His measured exhale lands softly between us as the server hands him my water, and he slides it to me. "I've never been much of a drinker, but since Holland was born, it's lost its appeal . . ." A pause stretches out before he continues. "My dad was an alcoholic, and I never want my daughter to see me like that--or not be able to care for her because I've had a drink."

I'm not sure what to say to that, other than the truth. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, but I'm glad you're breaking the cycle."

His shoulders rise and fall in an indifferent shrug. "She will always come first."

It's so matter-of-fact and I don't think he understands what a big deal it is, but I've seen it time and time again at Double Play--parents not putting their children first. "You're a good dad, Xavier. Dare I say a solid ten?"

He doesn't boast or pump his fist. Instead, he gives me a small smile and a heartfelt, "Thank you."