The Practice Proposal Read online

  “We can go to a different team,” Cole said without conviction.

  Frank lowered his thick eyebrows. “The Nats might be heading to the World Series this year—I’m seeing a pennant at worst. You want to leave a team on that kind of high?”

  Cole shook his head. He and Frank both knew he didn’t want to leave the Nationals. They’d all busted their asses to get as far as they had, and he was lucky to be there with them. Plus, he’d practically grown up with the Nats. He’d been totally alone after he’d been drafted, but he’d found a home with his team, and the closest thing to a family he’d ever had. He’d struggled for seven frustrating years, but they’d kept him around anyway, and now he was finally performing.

  He’d figured that’s all it would take for them to keep him, but clearly he’d figured wrong.

  The reality he’d ignored hit him like a hundred-mile-per-hour fastball: he needed the Nationals. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he didn’t want to be alone again.

  Frank picked up his phone, tapped the screen, and glanced at the tweet. “That’s why this date with the Sutherland girl sets up perfect for us.”

  Cole finally took a bite of his burrito. He couldn’t argue that this was a good time for him to be associated with the BADD Athletes Foundation, but he wondered why Liza Sutherland had surfaced all of a sudden.

  He hadn’t seen her since they were teenagers—and he was curious how she’d grown up. “Let me see that tweet again.” Frank handed him the phone. He tapped the link to Liza’s profile, and her picture came up. One glance at her and his pulse fired like a home-run hit headed for the upper deck.

  Holy…

  The woman he saw looked nothing like the girl he remembered. She had long dark-red hair, sparkling green eyes, and a pretty, genuine smile. Cole figured her for a city girl, but she had a kind of small-town innocent look that was hard to find anymore. He couldn’t believe she was the same girl who’d hung around her father’s baseball camp for weeks, just for him.

  He read her profile: Manager of camp operations for the BADD Athletes Foundation.

  So she worked organizing the same kind of camps where they’d met. Cole totally respected that, especially considering all the more glamorous opportunities her parents could’ve hooked her up with. He winced at the thought of John and Sylvia Sutherland, but he knew better than to dwell on it. His rocky past with Liza’s folks had nothing to do with her.

  “You don’t look too thrilled,” Frank said. “The way I see it, we coulda done much worse.”

  “For sure.” Cole stole another glance at Liza’s picture. “I’m okay with it.” And why wouldn’t he be? Liza Sutherland was smokin’ hot.

  Frank nodded. “The girl’s a looker. She’s got a good job, a solid family. We can forgive ’em this once for being in the tank for the Orioles.” He smiled. Anyone who liked baseball was all right with him—they kept business going and money streaming in.

  “No need to worry about her job or her family,” Cole said. “It’s just one date.” He took a bite of his burrito, enjoying the tender steak and creamy cheese, until Frank’s raised-eyebrow look made him stop chewing. “What?” he murmured through a mouthful.

  “This Sutherland girl works for drug-free BADD.” Frank took a swallow of his Bloody Mary and licked his lips. “Going out with her will make it look like you’re cleaning up your act. Besides, she’s our chance to prove you’re settling down, at least until we get your contract negotiated.”

  “Whoa. I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I’m sure I don’t like the idea.” He gave Frank a serious stare. “Listen, we’ve already gotten the positive publicity from the BADD donation, and the timing couldn’t have been better. One date—we’re good. I promise I’ll behave after that.” He winked.

  Frank shook his head and grimaced. “We’re talking about your future, son. Seven years you’ve spent toiling your way to the top. You’re twenty-nine, and not getting any younger.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “But with two All-Star seasons under your belt, a Gold Glove, and a Silver Slugger, we can name your price—as long as you make it look like your partying-and-playboy days are done.”

  Cole flinched. “I hear you.” And I know you’re right. He let out a long, labored sigh. “It needs to look like I’m settling down.” At least for a couple of months.

  “Bingo.” Frank stared him in the eye. “And it wouldn’t hurt your cause if you went and did something traditional like fall in love…propose…get married. ”

  Cole groaned as his stomach knotted. He’d sat down at this breakfast free and single. Before he could even eat a burrito, Frank had him set up on a date, faithful to one woman, in love, engaged, and married. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself, man.”

  Frank splayed his hands on either side of his plate, straightened his back, and leaned forward. “How badly do you want a new contract with the Nats, son?”

  Cole raked his hand through his hair and grabbed a fistful of it in the back. After a moment he said, “There’s nothing I want more.”

  Frank tossed his napkin on the table and relaxed in his seat. “Well, there you go.”

  The waitress stopped by and asked, “Anything else for you gentlemen?”

  Looking pleased with himself, Frank nodded and smiled. “I’ll have a homemade peanut-butter-and-bacon poptart to go.”

  The thought of eating peanut butter and bacon in the same mouthful made Cole a little queasy. So did the idea of settling down. But after the waitress left, he pushed his plate aside and propped his elbows on the table. “You’ve never steered me wrong before, Frank. So I’m willing to play along with your plan.” He cleared his throat. “But we’ve got to find a different girl.” Because things are a little complicated between Liza Sutherland’s folks and me. “Liza would never go for this.”

  “No can do,” Frank said without hesitation. “I coulda personally recruited a bunch of ladies and not come up with a more wholesome gal—she’s perfect for what we need.”

  Chapter Two

  Cole strode into the waterfront condo building on Baltimore’s Inner Harbor, his pulse running a little high. If this were any other Friday night off, he’d be looking forward to a stress-free night out at the clubs—comfortable party atmosphere, maybe a casual hookup. There wouldn’t be much partying tonight, though, considering the date Frank had arranged. He’d have to get used to the slow life, at least for a little while, and that didn’t really bother him, considering what was at stake. What did freak him out a little was this unexpected reunion with a girl he’d only known as a teenager. The scary thing was, Liza might just know him better than any woman he’d ever dated, even though he hadn’t seen her in years. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out with a hiss.

  The lobby was all granite and glass, maximizing the water view. Cole caught the attention of the security guard, who looked like a jolly ex-linebacker sitting behind the sleek counter. The guy squinted, then his eyes went wide as Cole came closer.

  “I’m Cole Collins, and—”

  “I thought that was you!” The guy looked starstruck, but Cole had started to get used to that. “Man, I’m your number one fan.”

  Cole smiled. He heard that a lot, too, and he never got tired of it. There’d been a time when he’d had no fans at all. Except Liza.

  “Thank you,” Cole said. “That means a lot. I’m…um…I’m here to see Liza Sutherland.”

  The guard nodded, as if he approved. “I’ll buzz her for you.”

  Cole paced while the guy picked up the phone, punched in a number, and waited.

  “Hello, Miss Liza.” The guard held the cordless phone with one hand and unzipped a backpack next to his chair with the other. “Mr. Cole Collins is here to see you.” He pulled a well-worn Nats baseball cap out of the backpack. “Yes, ma’am.” He hung up the phone. “She’ll be right down,” he sai
d to Cole. “While you wait, would you mind signing my hat?”

  “No problem.” He signed the cap and gave it back to the guard.

  “Don’t tell Liza.” The guard smiled and nodded. “But I hope you guys win the Series this year.”

  Cole grinned, hoping they did, too. “One step at a time,” he said. “We’re focused on making the playoffs right now.”

  “Oh, you got that, man. You got that.”

  Cole was fresh out of small talk. He’d suddenly become preoccupied wondering if Liza would look as good in person as she did in her picture. What would she be like now that she was all grown up? He thought back to some of the afternoons at the baseball camp and the conversations they’d had. She’d been easy to talk to because he had placed her squarely in the friend zone, even though she’d seemed to have a different zone in mind. If she still did, maybe easing her into a fake relationship wouldn’t be too difficult.

  A pang of guilt clenched his stomach. Could he really do that to her? One of the elevators arrived at the lobby with a ping. Cole shifted his gaze to the spotless stainless steel doors as they slowly slid open, and out stepped Liza.

  Holy hotness…

  The woman was definitely a hell of an awesome sight in 3-D. Any red-blooded man would appreciate her lithe figure and perfectly proportioned curves, accented by a lucky pair of just-tight-enough black jeans. Her fitted sweater looked featherlight and feminine, and it matched her pale-green eyes exactly.

  “Here’s Liza now,” the guard said, nodding as she stepped closer.

  Liza smiled at the security guard—she had dazzling white teeth, no longer sporting the braces Cole remembered—then turned to him. “Hello, Cole,” she said, her voice as perfect for radio as her face was for TV. He wondered why she hadn’t chased a career in either. She held out her hand. “I think we’ve met.” He was captivated for a moment by the sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

  Cole grasped her hand and held it for a moment. “It’s good to see you again.” She squeezed his hand lightly, slipped her hand out of his, and swept a lock of silky cinnamon-colored hair away from her face.

  “You look amazing.” Cole often said something like this to his dates but couldn’t remember ever meaning it quite so much. He swallowed hard.

  Color rose in her face. Her gaze locked on him and his heart stammered. He’d swear he saw all the things she knew about him right there in her glimmering green eyes. “Thanks.” She grinned and gave him a playful once-over. “You turned out pretty good yourself.”

  The security guard watched them curiously, making Cole even more uncomfortable.

  “You’ve met Sean,” Liza said, giving him a knowing look as if she felt the same way.

  Sean nodded, beaming. “He autographed my Nats hat.”

  Liza shook her head and puckered her shiny, incredibly kissable lips. “You’re killing me, Sean.”

  “She’s all about the Orioles,” he said to Cole.

  Cole grimaced. “I’d imagine.”

  Liza proudly tipped up her chin. “Go Os.”

  Cole glanced at Sean, who shrugged and shook his head.

  Free-spirited and confident, Liza didn’t seem like she’d fall easily into a fake relationship with anyone. But Cole had to make this work. He had to get that contract. What could he do to convince her to stick around for a while?

  This is going to be a long night.

  …

  “That’s your pickup?” Liza’s nerves had made her jittery, and she sounded more surprised than she’d meant to that Cole had shown up in a white Ford quad cab. She had taken him for the flashy-sports-car type.

  “Yep, she’s mine.” He walked in stride with her, looking free and easy with his blond hair and blue jeans. At six-foot-four and two-twenty, according to his stats, he was all lean muscle, with long legs and broad shoulders and the grace of a stallion. Unmistakably a powerful athlete, he’d earned the nickname “Crush” from Nats fans because he consistently crushed baseballs out of the park. No wonder he attracted so many women. He was clearly irresistible.

  “Then who’s the guy in the driver’s seat?”

  “That would be Mack, our driver.” He grinned confidently. “I guess I could’ve come in a limo, but I’m more comfortable in a pickup.” He opened the rear door of the quad cab and gave her a sidelong glance. “So let’s call this a hybrid.” He winked, his blue eyes shimmering.

  A flock of seagulls took flight in her stomach. Liza hadn’t seen him up close and in person for years, only playing baseball from a distance or on TV. She’d forgotten about the small mole he had on the cusp of one of his high cheekbones. Her mom might call it a beauty mark, which sounded kind of feminine, but there was nothing girlie about it. The mole looked totally masculine paired with his even features and strong jaw. And he might have had the most perfect lips Liza had ever seen on a man. The thought sparked a twinge of guilt.

  Oh, Wes. I hope you’re okay with this. It was just one date—bought and paid for by her mother, no less.

  Cole helped her into the truck, then walked around to the other side, looking somewhat like the boy she remembered, yet more filled out and manly. She thought about how many years it had been since they’d spent time together. After her teenage crush, she’d kept track of him while he’d been an Academic All-American at UNC, and she’d been busy at college herself. Even so, she hadn’t kept in touch. She’d really fallen for him, but she was smart enough to see that he hadn’t been all that into her.

  “Hello, Mack,” she said to the driver, a slender older man with prickly white hair who looked as though he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. “I’m Liza.”

  “It’s a pleasure, miss.”

  Cole got in, they settled into the cushiony leather backseat of the pickup, and Mack pulled into Friday night traffic. “My Kinda Party” played on the radio, turned down low. “How ’bout a beer?” Cole asked, sounding more relaxed than he had moments ago in front of Sean. He opened the cooler that sat on the floor behind the console, filled with ice and longnecks.

  Liza nodded, feeling a little dazed. She hadn’t known what to expect on this date, but so far, it was none of the above. A stocked beer cooler in a pickup/limo hybrid with a hired driver named Mack?

  Cole grabbed a beer, popped the cap, and handed her the longneck.

  “Thank you,” she said as he opened one for himself.

  Cole raised his bottle. “To auctions for charity.”

  Heat crept into Liza’s face. Her neck was probably getting splotchy, too. She was nervous enough as it was. All she’d needed was a reminder that this was a “charity” date. “Talk about putting yourself out there…”

  She tipped her bottle toward his and struck it with a vibrating chink.

  “That was quite a donation you made to the BADD athletes,” he said with a tinge of that Southern accent she remembered.

  She stole a quick glance at him. He had one of those unusually beautiful faces that you could get stuck staring at if you let your gaze linger too long. “My mom actually placed the winning bid in my name, and she kind of insisted that I go.”

  Cole drew his head back, looking surprised and a little confused. His perfect lips quirked down at one corner.

  “So if you’d refused to go out with me, I’d be sitting here with Sylvia right now?” He gave her a crooked grin.

  “She’s one of your biggest fans.” Liza grinned back at him, sensing a spark of connection she hadn’t felt when they were teens. She quickly warned herself not to be fooled by such a playboy. Plenty of other women had probably imagined a special connection with him, too. There was still a hint of confusion in his eyes. He took a long swallow of his beer and raised an eyebrow. “What about you?”

  She bit her lip and smiled coyly. “I’m still undecided.”

  Chapter Three

/>   The early evening sun shone in the window of the truck and shimmered on Liza’s silky hair. Cole had never dated a redhead. And as far as he knew, he’d never dated a woman who hadn’t wanted to go out with him. Girls had frequently been available, so he’d rarely had to chase them. Frank could’ve made things easier on him if he’d picked a girl Cole didn’t have to win over. Why had Sylvia Sutherland insisted on Liza going out with him? Liza had known him when he was a nobody, and he wondered if she’d been more impressed by him then than she was right now. The longer she sat next to him, the more uncomfortable he felt about his intentions.

  “It’s been a long time”—Liza reached into her purse and pulled out an old baseball—“since you gave me this.” She bunched her lips, distracting him a little, and handed him the ball.

  Cole knew immediately it was the one he’d autographed for her years ago at John Sutherland’s baseball camp, where he’d spent the better part of his teenage summers. Cole remembered the first day he’d shown up at camp in Baltimore, thanks to an anonymous benefactor who’d paid for him to go. He’d been wide-eyed and in awe of Sutherland—the Hall-of-Fame shortstop who had set records and played in three World Series, one as MVP.

  John Sutherland had inspired him with his easygoing coaching style. He’d helped Cole sharpen his skills and work on his weaknesses in the game. Even more than that, Sutherland had assured Cole that he had talent and the potential to go pro. Just as Cole’s father might have done, if he’d had one. And just like his mother might have done, if she could’ve torn herself away from countless boyfriends long enough to come see him play.

  Over the course of three summers, Sutherland became the father figure Cole had always longed for. And Sylvia had treated him special, too. Then, that last summer, Liza had started hanging around. Skinny and awkward, but easy-to-talk-to Liza. On the last day of camp, he’d autographed the baseball and given it to her. In hindsight, it seemed like an arrogant thing to do. But at the time, he’d been naive about his future. He’d felt more like a star then than he did today. And Liza, all bones and braces, might’ve been his first real fan.