Authors: Honey
After
today's game, the players called for a hurrah at the tavern next to the hotel
and invited Camille along. He hadn't thought she'd agree, but she had. She
added to everyone's enjoyment, making the Keystones envied as they kept her
company. Alex hadn't failed to miss the stares in her direction and the
gestures of respect as the men tipped their hats.
Camille
Kennison had developed a reputation for delivering a baseball team who could go
nine innings and come out on top. It was no small feat for a man, much less a
woman.
Alex
paid the barkeep and took the fruity drink to the table. "Here."
Cautiously,
she studied the rose-hued liquid inside. "What is it?"
"It's
the closest thing they have to punch. A sangaree is pretty tame." He
extended his arm and she reached out to take the drink. Their fingers brushed
as she connected with the glass, and she jumped. "Sangaree doesn't give
the same glow as sipping whiskey."
"Sangaree,"
Cupid said as if it were a mouthful. "Isn't there rum in that?"
"No
rum." Alex dragged out a chair and straddled it. "Wine. And fruit
juice. Nutmeg on the top."
Noodles
took a sip of beer. "I once knew a woman named Nutmeg."
"Why'd
they call her Nutmeg?" Jimmy's grin was one big wide-gapped mouthful of
teeth.
"On
account of her—" Alex slammed his elbow into Noodles, knocking the wind
from his story.
He
archly reminded Noodles, "There's a lady sitting at our table."
When
Alex looked at her, his brows rose in surprise. She'd drunk half the sangaree
already and was gazing at him as if he'd brought her a lemonade rather than
alcohol. The wine wasn't strong, but a woman who got a glow off of a thimble's
worth of sipping whiskey had better take it easy on all kinds of liquor. But he
wasn't about to point that out to her with the players sitting around. She'd
take his hide off him for putting her on public notice.
Specs,
who was short on eyesight and long on inexperience, pressed the subject.
"On account of her what?"
Noodles
scooted away from Alex before replying with a cleaner version. "Well,
shall we say a certain part of her was the color of nutmeg?"
"I
can guess that one. Something below the neck and above the navel."
All
heads shot toward Camille's voice. She smiled at them. The glass in front of
her was as empty as a burned out lantern. "I'll have another, Mr. Cordova,
thank you."
Alex
narrowed his eyes. "I don't think so."
"I
don't feel a thing. The barkeep must water the drinks down." She
straightened the angle of her fruity hat and raised a brow. "If you won't
get one for me, one of these gentlemen will."
"What
gentlemen?" Mox asked, looking left and right
"Us,
you numbskull." Cub rolled his eyes. "Mox, you have less smarts than
a mule."
"I
don't see us wearing suits," Mox explained, "like these other fine
swells in the establishment."
Duke
took issue and lifted his mug of beer. "We're fine swells, too. We may not
wear the fanciest duds, but we're a winning ball team."
"That
we are," Charlie said around the cigarette between his lips.
"Gentlemen,
I..." Camille licked her lips as if gathering her thoughts; she ran a
casual fingertip down the beads of water on the sangaree glass. The move jabbed
Alex in the pit of his stomach. He barely heard her next words. "I wanted
to say that regardless of what happens this week, each and every one of you
should be proud of what the team has achieved."
A
solemn silence momentarily held the table. Then Bones assured her, "We'll
make it, Miss Kennison."
"I'd
like to think so, but if we don't..."—her gaze went in turn to each
player, not lingering on Alex, an intimacy he missed—"we'll come back next
year and grab it."
Duke's
crooked nose made his face seem lopsided, yet not unkindly so. He spoke in a
soft tone. "You're going to continue to manage us?"
The
clarity in her eyes didn't fade when she replied with unflinching firmness.
"Nothing could make me quit"
"I
speak for all of us, Miss Kennison, when I say we don't want you to quit."
Yank's words were met with nods. "We've talked about it, and we like
having you as our manager."
She
smiled, her lips full and soft, yet delicate. Alex struggled to control the
emotions running rampant inside him. With her white teeth teasing the curve of
her lower lip and her eyes a dazzling blue, she seemed ethereal.
"Now,
if you'll excuse me, Mr. Cordova is right. I shouldn't have another." She
rose and promptly wobbled on her legs. She quickly reached out to hold on to
the back of her chair for support. "I'm going back to the hotel."
"You're
not walking alone." Alex shoved out of his seat and went to her side. He
thought she might argue with him, but she didn't.
The
players said their good nights and Alex guided Camille outside to the warmth of
the evening. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as he turned onto the
sidewalk. She didn't object. She was too busy taking in deep breaths in an
effort at unclouding her head.
The
Lexington Hotel was around the corner, so they didn't have far to go. Buggy
traffic had thinned to near nothing; there was only the occasional slow clop of
shod hooves as a horse and dray rolled passed them. Darkness clung to the
storefronts, the window displays in shadows. A lone cigar-store Indian stood on
the corner in front of the tobacconist's shop.
Alex
was keenly aware of the way the side of Camille's breast brushed his arm as
they strolled. He could have walked around the block a hundred times just to
keep her beside him.
"Did
you get cut?" she asked, the question throwing him.
Thinking
a moment, he finally shook his head. "Nope."
The
game had been a close one. Cub had given one of the hecklers an old-fashioned
nose thumbing that caused all the pop bottles and trash of any kind to come
flying onto the field in the Keystones' general direction. Alex had been hit in
the back of the leg with a bottle. But he'd gotten a fair shake when he'd hit a
grand slam in the ninth to win the game.
He
added, "Thanks for asking."
"Don't
be so polite with me, Alex." Exasperation showed through her tone. "I
like you better when you're not on your best behavior."
She
let him mull that over, keeping her profile to him and slipping out of his arm.
They reached the double doors of the hotel; he wasn't fast enough to hold one
open for her. Making a point to let herself inside on her own, she strode over
the lobby tiles and directly took the stairs to the floor of rooms. Down the
hallway she went, with Alex at her side. Once at her door, she unlocked it,
turned, and looked him fully in the eyes.
The
pace she'd set had been so swift, he expected her to slam the door in his face.
But she didn't. She did something totally unexpected.
She
kissed him. Soundly on the mouth. Long enough to arouse him, short enough not
to bring her arms around his neck and press her body next to his. Almost
immediately, she stepped back as if she had to run from him.
He
searched her face, looking for a reason why. These past few weeks he had
battled to stay away from her. With this one kiss, he was losing.
"Don't
ask me why." The words were a whisper. "I just wanted to."
She
went to move away from him, but he shoved his knee in the door's path and
prevented it from being closed. He entered the room and shut the door with a
kick of his foot. She gasped as he caught her in his arms, jerked her to his
chest, and held her tightly.
Then
he was kissing her until he heard her breath catch; opening her mouth with his
tongue and sliding between her startled, wet lips. He felt a thickening deep in
his groin. She clung to him, a whimper sounding from her throat as slender
fingers slipped into his hair and his Stetson fell to the floor. Without
backing out of the kiss, he raised his hands to the buttons at her collar. He
loved the taste of her, could feel the blood pulsing beneath her skin.
The
fullness of soft, round breasts filled his hands, the nipples peaking as his
fingers teased them through the thin chemise covering her silky skin. He
inhaled her scent, the lavender that was uniquely hers when the perfume veiled
her body. Heat rippled under his skin wherever they touched. Shivers ran through
her in all directions when he pressed tiny kisses along her jaw, down her
throat, and along her shoulder.
She
tugged at the buttons on his shirt and softly worn pants, sliding her fingers
beneath his clothes and caressing his chest. Stroking him, her hands blazed a
hot trail across his skin. The kiss broke, then began anew, then broke again as
slowly, piece by piece, items of clothing were shed.
With
exploring fingers, he found the long pin that kept her silly hat on. He took it
off. Then he gently pulled the pins from her hair, capturing the thick mane in
his hands as it fell to her waist. Naked, she arched her back as he massaged
one breast, the bud swollen beneath his touch. In a torturously light way, she
skimmed the side of his ribs, then lower to the part of him that ached with
wanting her. She encircled him. His body tensed, then reacted with a shuddering
ecstasy when she explored, and touched him in the ways he had done to her.
His
mouth left hers with a groan, and he stilled the kiss long enough to take her
to the bed, where they fell into the downy coverlet. Taking her open mouth, he
kissed her once more as he moved over her parted legs. She lifted herself to
him but stilled before he touched her.
"Alex..."
she said against his lips, but she said nothing more.
He
knew what she was going to say because he had thought it himself.
The
beat of his heart raged in his ears and he wanted her more at this moment than
he ever had another woman in his life. But to take the same risks as last time
would be tempting fate. He murmured next to the corner of her mouth, "I
know what to do. You don't have to worry, honey."
That
was what she needed to hear because she held onto his shoulders and moved
beneath him in abandonment and surrender, taking him into her and moving in a
rhythm with him. He pulled her against him, holding her close so that he could
feel every trembling emotion beating through her. She clasped her arms around
his back and met each thrust as he brought her to a climax that made her cry
out against his lips.
As
the last quake of her body enveloped him, he withdrew and spent himself,
kissing her, holding her, feeling utterly complete.
* * * * *
Alex
spent the night in Camille's hotel room. They lay in each other's arms, making
love until the sun began to shimmer through the curtains. As they talked, one
subject was never touched upon—the future.
They
traveled to Boston to play the Somersets, who were in the lead for the pennant.
After the team won an early afternoon game against the team, Alex took Camille
to the public gardens.
The
sky was laced with gray clouds, but the air was warm and muggy. Alex held her
hand while they walked down a path through the waist-high wrought-iron fence
surrounding the garden. Moored at the banks of a lagoon were swan boats with
gondoliers waiting to take couples on a ride over the water.
"Which
one?" Alex asked, referring to the white swans with their painted black
beaks and yellow eyes.
"Hmm.
Let me see." She shrugged with a smile. "They all look the
same."
"I
think we should ride in that one. It looks like a bird from your hat."
Her
mouth fell open in mock offense. "I've never worn a swan on my hat."
"A
duck, then."
"Duck
feathers."
"Same
thing. But I like your hats, so I don't care if it's swans or ducks that
decorate them."
He
took her toward the boat on the end. The gondolier doffed his beret and
welcomed them.
Camille
stepped into the gently bobbing boat with Alex's help. He sat beside her, their
backs cushioned by red-and-white-striped pillows. Their fingers entwined. With
the smooth strokes of the gondolier's pole, the swan was propelled out to the
middle of the lake. Water softly lapped against the hull and made a quiet
trickling sound as it ran down the pole with each stroke.
Tipping
her face toward the sky, Camille closed her eyes and let the warmth of the sun,
peeking out from behind clouds, fall over her face.
"This
is better than a flatboat ride," she said with a dreamy sigh. "My
Uncle Grant worked for the Shreveport Boat and Boiler Company, and when I was a
little girl, he'd let me ride the flatboat with him. I thought nothing could be
better than floating down the Mississippi. But this is." She looked at
Alex. "Because you're with me."
He
lowered his head over hers, his eyes a rich brown that could make her lose every
conscious thought in her head. "I don't want to be anyplace else."
Then he kissed her.