edge. '.Just leave me alone.'
Dropping his mitt to the ground, he took both her arms. 'Not a chance. We can talk here, or we can go back to your place and hash it out. Your choice.' She shoved away from him. 'There's nothing to hash out.'
'Fine. Then let's go have dinner and see a movie.'
'I told you I had work to do.'
'Yeah.' He nodded slowly. 'You lied.'
Sharp, bubbling anger filled her eyes. 'I don't have to lie, all I have to do is tell you no.'
'True enough,' he agreed, holding on to his own temper. 'Why are you angry with me?' His voice was calm, patient. His eyes weren't. The sun fell against his face, accenting that fierce sexuality.
'I'm not angry with you!' she nearly shouted. 'People usually shout when they're angry.'
'I'm not shouting,' she claimed as her voice rose. Curiously, he tilted his head. 'No? Then what are you doing?'
'I'm afraid I'm falling in love with you.' Her expression became almost comically surprised after the words had tumbled out. She stared in simple disbelief, men covered her mouth with her hand as if to shove the words back inside.
'Oh, yeah?' He didn't smile as he took another step toward her. Something was scrambling inside his stomach like a squirrel in a cage. 'Is that so?'
'No, I…' In defense, she looked around, only to find that she was alone with him now. Alone in his territory. The stands rose up like walls to trap them inside the field of grass and dirt. Brooke backed off the mound. 'I don't want to stay here.'
Parks merely matched his steps to hers. ''Why afraid, Brooke?' He lifted his hand to her cheek, causing her to stop her retreat. 'Why should a woman like you be afraid of being in love?'
'I know what happens!' she said suddenly with eyes that were dark and stormy in contrast to the trembling tone.
'Okay, why don't you tell me?'
'I'll stop thinking. I'll stop being careful.' She ran an agitated hand through her hair. 'I'll give until I lose the edge, then when it's over I won't have anything left. Every time,' she whispered, thinking of all the transient parents, thinking of Clark. 'I won't let it happen to me again. I can't be involved with you for the fun of it, Parks. It just isn't working.' Without being aware of the direction, Brooke had turned to pace to the third base bag. Parks felt the warmth of the gold piece against his chest and decided it was fate. Taking his time, he followed her. His percentage of errors at the corner was very small.
'You are involved with me, whether you're having fun at it or not.'
She sent him a sharp glance. This wasn't the easygoing man but the warrior. Brooke straightened her shoulders. 'That can be remedied.'
'Try it,' he challenged, calmly gripping her shirt in his hand and pulling her toward him.
Brooke threw her head back, infuriated, and perhaps more frightened than she had ever been in her life. 'I won't see you again. If you can't work with me, take it up with Claire.'
'Oh, I can work with you,' he said softly. 'I can even manage to take your orders without too much of a problem because you're damn good at what you do. I told you once before I'd follow your rules while the camera was on.' He glanced around, silently relaying that there was no camera this time. 'It's tough to beat a man on his own ground, Brooke, especially a man who's used to winning.'
'I'm not a pennant, Parks,' she said with amazing steadiness.
'No.' With one hand still gripping her shirt, he traced the other gently down her cheek. 'Pennants are won through teamwork. A woman's a one-on-one proposition. Seventh-inning stretch, Brooke. Time to take a quick breath before the game starts again.' The hand on her cheek moved up to cup her neck. She wondered that he couldn't feel the sledgehammers pounding there. Then he smiled, that slow dangerous smile that always drew her. 'I'm in love with you.'
He said it so calmly, so simply, that it took her a moment to understand. Every muscle in her body went rigid. 'Don't.'
He lifted a brow. 'Don't love you or don't tell you?'
'Stop.' She put both hands on his chest in an attempt to push him away. 'It's not a joke.'
'No, it's not. What are you more afraid of?' he asked, studying her pale face. 'Loving or being loved?'
Brooke shook her head. She'd been so careful to keep from crossing that thin line-been just as careful to keep others from crossing from the other side. Claire had done it, and E.J., she realized. There was love there. But in love… How could a tiny, two-letter word petrify her?
'You could ask me when,' Parks murmured, kneading the tense muscles in her neck, 'and I couldn't tell you. There wasn't a bolt of lightning, no bells, no violins. I can't even say it snuck up on me because I saw it coming. I didn't try to step out of the way.' He shook his head before he lowered his mouth to hers. 'You can't wish it away, Brooke.' The kiss rocked her back on her heels. It was hard and strong and demanding without the slightest hint of urgency. It was as if he knew she could go nowhere. She could fight him, Brooke thought. She could still fight him. But the tension was seeping out of her, filling her with a sense of freedom she had thought she would never fully achieve. She was loved. Feeling the change in her, Parks pulled back. He wouldn't win her with passion. His needs ran too deep to settle for that. Then her arms were around him, her cheek pressed against his chest in a gesture not of desire, but of trust. Perhaps the beginning of trust. 'Tell me again,' she murmured. 'Just tell me once more.'
He held her close, stroking her hair while the breeze whispered through the empty stadium. 'I love you.' With a sigh, Brooke stepped over the line. Lifting her head, she took his face in her hands. 'I love you, Parks,' she murmured before she urged his lips to take hers.
Chapter 10
Clubhouses have their own smell. Sweat, foot powder, the tang of liniments, the faint chemical aroma of whirlpools and the overlying fragrance of coffee. The mixture of odors was so much a part of his life, Parks never noticed it as he pulled on his sweat shirt. What he did notice was tension. That was inescapable. Even Snyder's determined foray of practical jokes couldn't break the curtain of nerves in the locker room that afternoon. When a team had spent months together working, sweating, winning and losing aiming toward one common goal, nothing could ease the nerves of facing the seventh game of the World Series.
If the momentum had been with them, the atmosphere would have been different. All the minor aches that plague the end of a season would barely have been noticed-the tired legs, the minor pulls. But the Kings had dropped the last two games to the Herons. A professional athlete knows that skill is not the only determining factor in winning. Momentum, luck, timing are all added for balance.
Even if the Kings could have claimed they'd fallen into a slump there might have been a little more cheer in the clubhouse. The simple fact was that they'd been outplayed. The number of hits between the opponents was almost even-but the Herons had made theirs count while the Kings had left their much needed runs stranded on base. Now it came down to the last chance for both teams. Then when it was over, they'd pick up their off-season lives.
Parks glanced at Snyder, who'd be on his charter boat in Florida the following week. Catching fish and swapping lies, he called it, Parks mused. Kinjinsky, getting heat applied to his ribs, would be playing winter ball in Puerto Rico. Maizor, the starting pitcher, would be getting ready to play daddy for the first time when his wife delivered in November. Some would go on the banquet circuit and the talk show circuit depending on the outcome of today's game. Others would go back to quiet jobs until February and spring training.
And Parks Jones makes commercials, he reflected with a small grimace. But the idea didn't bring on the sense of foolishness it had only a few months before. It gave him a certain pleasure to act-though Brooke wouldn't call it that-in front of the camera. But he wasn't too thrilled with the poster deal Lee had cooked up. He smiled a little as he drew on his spikes. Hype, Brooke had called it, saying simply it was part of the game. She was right, of course; she usually was about that aspect of things. But Parks didn't think he'd ever be completely comfortable with the way she could look him over with those calm eyes and sum him up with a few choice words. Wouldn't it
