Covering Home (2 page)

She halted her steps. Where did he come from?

“Aren’t you Britt Bowen? From
Good Morning, San Francisco?
” His warm brown eyes scanned her face.

“No.” She craned her neck to see around him. Caleb pushed through the revolving door and disappeared into the sea of people milling outside the hotel. “I mean, yes, I am. But I’m with the Epic Sports Network now, out of Newark. Joe Caswell and I host
Covering Home
.” She still couldn’t believe it, even when the words flowed from her own mouth.

“I see.” The man nodded. “I watched your show when I was in California. Good way to practice my English.”

“Wonderful.” Britt pasted on a smile to conceal her frustration. So close to the most reclusive player in recent baseball history, and she’d been ambushed by a fan.

“Shin Nishizawa.” The man offered his business card. “Welcome to Japan.”

Britt glanced at the card. “Team manager, Seibu Rays,” she read aloud. Good thing she hadn’t blown him off. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Nishizawa. Then you must know Caleb Scott?”

Folding his hands behind his back, he dipped his head. “Please. Call me Shin. Yes, Mr. Scott is an outstanding pitcher for our team.”

“That’s what I’ve heard. I’m sure you’re aware—”

“Britt. There you are. What’s going on?” Marne walked up behind Shin, her green eyes wide. She shoved a frizzy red curl off her face and raised her eyebrows, demanding an explanation.

“Marne, this is Shin Nishizawa. Shin, Marne Hodges,” Britt said. “Shin manages the Seibu Rays baseball team.” She gave Marne a pointed stare.
Don’t mess this up.

Without missing a beat, her boss extended a hand and flashed a smile. “A pleasure to meet you. On behalf of the Epic Sports Network, let me say we are thrilled to be here.”

What?
Britt stifled the impulse to laugh, trapping her lower lip behind her teeth. Thrilled? When Britt had boldly suggested they tape
Covering Home
from Tokyo for this exhibition series between the league’s newest expansion team, the Sacramento Senators and one of Japan’s premier baseball teams, Marne had laughed. She’d insisted it would never work. Even Britt’s own family warned her it was next to impossible to pull off. Undeterred, Britt petitioned the VP of production, sat through heated discussions over expenses and logistics—her declaration that she’d land an interview with the aloof Caleb Scott finally earned approval from upper management.

“We are glad to have this opportunity to showcase the Rays against a team like the Senators. Do you need any help? Have you had a chance to see the hotel?” Shin swept his arm around the opulent lobby.

“We were about to check in. It’s quite beautiful. Is the press conference still on for eleven o’clock?” Marne glanced at her watch.

Shin nodded. “Yes. That will be on the twentieth floor. Easy for us—the whole team stays here.”

Britt pounced on this tidbit. “The whole team? In this hotel?”

“Yes. Our home field is thirty minutes west of Tokyo. Too hard to come and go from there to the Tokyo Dome. So we stay here until all the games are finished.”

How about that.
“That makes scheduling my interview with Caleb Scott much easier.”

Shin’s brow knitted together. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. He hasn’t given a single interview since he arrived in January. Now if you want to speak to Kentaro Hashimoto, he’ll be available at the press conference.”

Britt squared her shoulders. “We understand Hashimoto’s return to Japan wearing a Senators uniform is a huge deal. But I’m more interested in Caleb Scott’s intriguing decision to play for a Japanese team. Baseball fans want to know why he turned down lucrative opportunities in the States. I’ll camp out in this beautiful lobby if I have to. I don’t give up. Ever.”

Shin nodded. “I see you’re very determined. Enjoy your time in Japan, Miss Bowen.”

Britt turned on her heel and walked back across the lobby where Paul, their cameraman, had remained with their mountain of luggage.

Look out, Caleb Scott. You can run, but you can’t hide.

The train doors
whooshed
shut, and Caleb sighed with relief. That was close.

“Do you always run when beautiful women chase you?” His brother Ben grinned, chest heaving as he grasped the handle overhead.

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “From that particular woman, yes. She’s probably a reporter.”

“Well, I do believe I’d let her interrogate me. Did you see those legs? Lord, have mercy.” Ben shook his head, brown eyes gleaming.

“They all want the same story. It’s old news, man.” Caleb’s stomach clenched. Not that he hadn’t noticed the beautiful American when he stepped out of the elevator. Even if she’d flown all night, she was hard to miss. Her long blonde hair fell across her pink sweater, leading to the shapely calves peeking out from the hem of her black skirt—Caleb shoved the image aside. Not going there.

“She looks familiar. I can’t place her, though.” Ben shifted his weight as the train moved forward.

“I’m sure she’s with one of the networks covering this series.”

Ben snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Britt Bowen. She hosts
Covering Home
on that new baseball network.”

“She has her own show?”

“There’s a guy that hosts with her. It’s pretty cool. They have a camera in every ballpark, so they interview different players and get an in-depth look at what’s going on in baseball.”

“Huh.” Caleb frowned. Just what he needed, a gorgeous sportscaster hanging around the stadium all week. His new teammates were polite and respectful, but a few spoke English well enough to razz him pretty good. Not to mention his other American teammates, who were very familiar with what went down two years ago.

“Maybe she’s covering this hot new pitcher for the Seibu Rays. I hear that guy’s on fire.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I prefer to stay under the radar.” Caleb looked away, staring out the window. “Nobody over here cares who I was before.”

His twin grunted. “I don’t believe that for a second. You can’t run forever.”

Yes. He could. The memory of that horrible night still burned in his mind. It was nothing compared to the brutal media coverage that almost destroyed him. Some days, he would’ve gladly given his pitching arm to make it all go away. He could keep running, all right.

“Are the trains always this crowded?” Ben asked.

They both stood at least a head taller than the passengers riding near them. Not to mention Ben stuck out like a sore thumb in his Ropers and Wranglers, his plaid button-down hanging open to reveal a navy blue T-shirt underneath. Thank goodness he’d left his cowboy hat at home. The Japanese would go crazy if they saw a genuine cowboy roaming the streets of Tokyo.

“This is nothing.” Caleb stretched his arms out in either direction. “Most days we’re packed in here like cattle.”

“For real?” Ben grimaced. “How do you stand it?”

“I got used to it after a while. Don’t worry, we’ll get off at the next stop. There’s a donut shop that’s not half-bad. I’ve got to be back in a bit for the press conf—”
Oh no.

“Press conference, huh?” Ben winked. “This should be fun. I’m sure nobody has
any
questions for the quiet, brooding American pitcher on an all-Japanese team.”

“Shut it. I’m not the only American.”

“True. But I’m sure their backstory’s nowhere near as juicy as yours.”

Caleb bit back a sharp retort. He hated it when Ben was right.

Chapter Two

Britt followed Marne into the conference room on the twentieth floor of the hotel, the heels of her knee-high, black leather boots sinking into the plush carpet. After a nap that wasn’t long enough, a hot shower and a change of clothes, she felt almost human again. Paul had tried to warn her, explaining the tricks seasoned veterans employed to combat the jet lag. Despite her best efforts to hoodwink her circadian rhythms, she still felt foggy and disoriented.

The offensive cocktail of body odor and stale cigarette smoke assaulted her senses as she stood in the doorway and surveyed the audience. To the left of the podium, owners and players of the Seibu Rays team filed in and stood in a neat formation, all clad in identical charcoal gray suits and understated black ties. Britt surveyed the team, identifying three of the four Americans she planned to interview before her week in Japan was over.

Her gaze landed on Caleb Scott and she couldn’t look away. Even off the pitcher’s mound, he commanded attention. In fact, the energy in the room seemed to shift as he took his place next to Shin. A stubborn lock of hair fell across his broad forehead and he pushed it back impatiently. Averting her eyes before he caught her staring, she shifted her focus to the right side of the podium.

The entourage representing the Sacramento Senators walked into the conference room. First came the Japanese businessmen and presumed owners of the team, followed by the coaching staff and then the players, all dressed in teal polo shirts and khaki pants. The room buzzed with excitement when Kentaro Hashimoto, the former Japanese star, appeared.

Britt began her careful inventory of the team.
Please, please don’t let him be here.
She’d read his name on Sacramento’s official roster and mentally rehearsed their first encounter, but her courage fizzled when Tyler Jeffries took the last vacant seat on the Senators’ side of the stage. He happened to look up and when their eyes met, he did a double-take.

His gaze still locked on hers, Tyler spoke to his teammates. Several heads swiveled in Britt’s direction. Heart pounding, she ducked behind Paul’s lanky frame and monstrous camera mounted on a tripod.

Lord, I know it’s been a while … but I can’t do this
. She flung up a desperate prayer, pretending to review the notes stored on her phone.

It’s just a press conference. You don’t even have to speak to him. Relax.
Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through a list of questions she’d brainstormed for the American players.

Paul moved, blowing her cover. “Everything okay?”

Britt fidgeted with her phone some more, buying time until she could regain her composure. Still, she sensed dozens of eyes were trained toward her, the hum of conversation swirling around her. “Why are they all staring?”

Paul laughed, his bald head glinting in the overhead lights. “Fair-skinned California girls are a bit of a novelty around here. Get used to it.”

She lifted her chin, drawing a ragged breath. Being the center of attention normally gave her a thrill. But not today. How could she focus on getting the job done when the one person she’d hoped to avoid this season sat onstage, that disarming smirk plastered across his ornery face?

One of the Rays’ owners, Hirotaka Watanabe, came to the podium and made his opening remarks. Caleb was grateful for the translator and listened as his boss expressed praise and admiration for the Senators organization and their decision to play this preseason series in Tokyo.

Caleb sat next to Shin, frowning as he loosened the button on his coat. Why they had to parade around in these ridiculous suits was beyond him. This was baseball. Not the red carpet. But judging by the cameras lined up like soldiers at attention along the back wall and every seat in the cavernous room occupied, he had to admit it felt a little bit like a movie premiere. And he would know. Wincing, he pushed away the memory of Amanda decked out in a designer gown and working the cameras outside the Oscar party.
Come on. Focus.

“Caleb.” Shin nudged him. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

Shin paused, tipping his head toward the press. “There’s an American reporter here who wants to ask you some questions.”

It took a few seconds to find her. Then a cameraman moved aside, affording him a clear view. Like a lighthouse on the shores of a turbulent sea, Britt garnered the attention of every man in the room. A royal-blue silk blouse emphasized her trim waist and feminine curves, while a black skirt hugged her legs. Tall, black leather boots completed the look. His brother was right. Lord, have mercy. Caleb reached for his water glass and chugged it.