Authors: Melanie Scott
“Awesome. I have to go, our recess is almost over,” Em said. “See you tomorrow night.”
* * *
After Em hung up, Amelia put her head down and worked. She needed to get shit done if she wasn’t going to have to work half the weekend. With Em in town and two baseball games, she didn’t want to do that. So
Ignore the lack of sleep and just do it
was her new motto of the day. She’d done it before and would do it again. In fact, she got so lost in the work that when Daniel knocked on her door, she realized it was nearly two and her self-imposed deadline to hear from Oliver had passed.
“How’s it going?” Daniel asked.
“Good,” Amelia said, hoping she looked more alert than she felt. “Just knocking some things off the issues register, then I have another meeting with IT this afternoon.”
“And the Singapore analysis I wanted?”
“Will be on your desk by the end of the day.”
“Good.”
She smiled, trying to decipher the expression in his pale eyes. “Are you going to the Hamptons this weekend?”
“Yes,” he said.
She tried not to let pleasure at the news show on her face. When Daniel went out of town for the weekend, there were far fewer weekend emails that needed attention from his team before Monday morning.
“What are your weekend plans?” he asked.
She waved at her desk. “I’ve got a few things to work on but actually I have friends in town. We’re going to see the Saints play tomorrow.”
“Ah. Yes. You have a friend who plays baseball, don’t you?” Daniel said.
“Yes. It’s his first play-off series, so it’s pretty exciting.”
He arched an eyebrow. “The Saints are a terrible team, aren’t they? Seems unlikely they’ll win.”
Was he trying to annoy her? Or was he just being his usual straight-to-the-point-regardless self? “Actually, since the owners changed a few years back, they’ve been doing better each year. They might just surprise you.”
He looked like he doubted it. “To each their own,” he said eventually. He was studying her again. She wished she’d had time to go digging as to whether there was an opportunity in Hong Kong coming up. Otherwise she wasn’t sure why he kept turning up in her office. Twice in one week was unheard of. It was making her nervous.
She nodded at her computer. “Was there anything else you needed me to do?”
“No,” he said. “Just make sure I have that report before you leave tonight.”
“Not a problem.”
* * *
She needed more coffee. Or maybe a Coke. Easier on her stomach. She leaned back on her desk chair and stretched. It was nearly four and she had to do her final pass on the report for Daniel and come up with a brilliant solution for one last issue with the Australasian model and then she’d be done. Or as done as she planned to be. She could try to work later tonight but she desperately needed a nap. Her head was starting to ache and her eyes were burning from staring at her monitor practically nonstop since seven thirty.
Oliver still hadn’t called. At least, she didn’t think he had. She’d turned her cell off after lunch, not wanting to be interrupted. But he’d called her landline before, so she hadn’t thought getting her voice mail on her cell would stop him getting to her if he really wanted to.
Caffeine and sugar first, though. She snatched up her purse and her phone and decided to hit the coffee cart outside the building to get some fresh air. As she stepped into the elevator, she switched her phone on.
No message alerts.
The tension in her stomach shifted from too much caffeine to sheer nerves.
“Pull it together, Graham,” she muttered to herself as she hit the first floor and headed outside. It wasn’t as though she and Oliver were officially dating or anything. She’d spent time with him exactly four times and kissed him for a few minutes. They’d been a few fantastic minutes but she needed to keep her cool.
The October air—still colder than usual—slapped at her as she left the building. The sting of it actually woke her up a little, and she tried to breathe it in more deeply as she reached the coffee cart and placed her order.
Five minutes. Five minutes out in the fresh air and she’d go back to her desk. She sipped her mocha—combining the chocolate and caffeine just seemed easiest at this point—and found a seat.
And, fortified by a fresh hit of caffeine and the cold, she dialed Oliver.
* * *
Oliver jolted awake when the phone rang. Crap. He’d fallen asleep again.
Who was calling him?
He blinked, trying to think. How long had he actually been asleep? He’d slept late that morning already. Gone through his routine with Alfie of having his splint taken off and his hand taped in a bag so he could shower. The dressing on the wound was apparently waterproof, but rebandaging the whole thing and getting the splint back would be nearly impossible on his own and Alfie had sensibly pointed out that it would be less painful to him if he had the splint on in the shower in case he knocked his hand somehow. Then there’d been the post-shower icing and dressing changing and rebandaging of everything.
Hardly a jam-packed morning. So he shouldn’t be tired. But apparently he’d fallen asleep again at some point during his exciting afternoon of watching
Justified
reruns on TV. Surgical recovery sucked.
He managed to grab the phone before it stopped ringing, his brain finally clicking into focus when he saw Amelia’s name on the screen.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey yourself,” Amelia said.
She sounded … tired? Or just stressed. He leaned toward tired and then felt vaguely guilty that he’d kept her up late. Not too guilty, though, because kissing her had been too damned good to feel guilty about.
“I was going to call you,” he said. “But I’ve been—” Sleeping sounded lame. He didn’t want her thinking of him as the injured guy. Helpless, in need of cosseting. Less than whole. But she’d seen him at the hospital, the day after his surgery. She probably did see him that way. But that didn’t mean he had to reinforce her impression.
“Resting, I hope,” Amelia said. “Or at least following doctor’s orders.”
If one more person mentioned following doctor’s orders he was going to lose it. But Amelia sounded worried when she asked, so he was giving her a pass. Besides, she didn’t seem to be pissed that he hadn’t called yet, which was more than he deserved. He’d meant to call her as soon as Alfie left but had been distracted by a call from his agent, checking up on him.
“I have been an excellent patient all day,” he said. “Which is why I’m hoping you might come over tonight. I’ve earned a reward.”
She laughed. “Most people get a lollipop when they’re a good patient.”
“Amelia, you taste way better than any lollipop I’ve ever tried.”
Her breath caught. He heard it clearly. A sudden indrawn breath. It made him hard. Damn it. Why had he been so freaking sensible last night and sent her home? He wouldn’t be feeling like a teenager with his first taste of a woman if he hadn’t sent her home. Sure, he might not have been able to pull off actual sex with his arm in a sling, but there were plenty of other things they could have done. And he might have heard Amelia make a whole array of sexy noises like that little sucked-in breath.
“Still there?” he said softly when she failed to speak.
“Yes,” she said, sounding just that little bit foggy. He knew how she felt.
“So, are you going to make me happy and come on over?”
“I’d love to,” she said and he almost did a fist punch of victory with his good hand … only he was using it to hold the phone.
“But I can’t,” she continued.
His happy sense of victory deflated like a balloon hit with a sledgehammer. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t,” she said quickly. “I have a friend coming into town. She’s staying with me.”
“Tell her you’re having your apartment sprayed or something. Send her to a hotel.”
She laughed. “I can’t. I already invited her over.”
He sighed. “Let me guess, it’s Castro’s sister, isn’t it? Your best friend?”
“Yes.” She sounded regretful, which made him feel slightly better. Slightly. But he knew better than to try to fight against the best-friend code. Nothing good ever came of trying to do that. And Amelia’s best friend was also Castro’s sister. Which only complicated things even more. The smart thing to do would be to be the easy part of the equation.
“When is she arriving?”
“Tonight. Nine thirty. But I have to work late again. I need to clear my desk so I can—” She broke off.
“Go to the game tomorrow?” he said. “Don’t worry, I pretty much assumed that you were going to go see Finn play.”
“Are you going to go?”
He hadn’t planned on it. Maggie had already asked him if he wanted her to organize a driver to bring him to Staten Island but he’d put her off, claiming he didn’t think he was up to it yet. Didn’t think he’d fooled her about the real reason, either. But she hadn’t called him on it. That might change if the Saints lost again tonight. Then he figured he’d be asked to come down for team morale. He hadn’t decided whether or not he’d say yes. “That’s another one of those complicated questions.”
“Which means you haven’t decided?”
“Which means I’m probably going to say no,” he said. “Not sure I want to see them lose. Not entirely sure I want to see them win, either. And trust me, I know that makes me a crappy teammate.”
“I think it makes you human,” she said. “No one likes to stand by and watch while something they’ve worked hard for is taken away from them.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Not sure the guys on the team will see it that way.”
“Well, you still have time to make up your mind,” she said. “See how you feel tomorrow.”
“If I did come, would I get to hold your hand?”
“I … I don’t know,” she said. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?”
“You tell me.”
She went silent again. “I think it’s a complicated question. And I think that neither of us wants to make waves at a time when the team all needs to be focused on the game.”
“You mean Finn.”
“Yes,” she said.
“You think he’s going to take you and me badly?”
“He’s hardly your biggest fan.”
That was tactful of her. “I’m not his biggest fan, either. And I’m not willing to give you up to keep him happy.”
“I’m not asking you to give me up. I don’t want you to give me up. But does it really hurt if no one knows about us for a little bit longer? After all, do you even know what this is yet?”
“I know I liked kissing you,” he said. “I know that kissing you again is just about all I’ve thought about today.”
She made another little sexy noise. “Good answer. And right back at you. But let’s be a little more sure where this is going before we drop any bombshells. After all, you might get sick of kissing me.”
“I really don’t think that’s likely.”
“Good to hear. So, are we agreed? Just between you and me for now?”
“Fine,” he said. “But you owe me.”
“Oh really? Owe you what?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Something good, I hope.” Laughter bubbled through her voice again. Sexy laughter.
“It will be. Are you sure you can’t come over tonight and find out what it is?”
She sighed. “Yes. Which sucks.”
“Can’t argue with that. How long is Em staying?”
“She’ll have to fly back Sunday, I think. She’s in the middle of a big case.”
“She’s a lawyer?”
“Yep. Good one.”
“Huh.” He hadn’t exactly bothered to find out anything about Finn’s family. He normally tried to help new guys settle into the team, but Finn had made it clear he didn’t want anything from Oliver other than his first-base slot. So Oliver had steered clear as much as possible. Other than when he’d had to squish the kid a few times. Pity. If he had, he might have met Amelia sooner. But that aside, he hadn’t pictured Finn having a lawyer for a sister.
“Finn’s pretty smart, too,” Amelia said. “He actually had an offer for an academic scholarship, before he got an athletic one, at college. I’m pretty sure if he hadn’t loved baseball so much he might have gone to med school or something.”
Finn Castro, GP. Nope. His brain wouldn’t go there. GPs were meant to be concerned about other people, weren’t they? As far as he could tell, Finn Castro was mostly the number-one fan of Finn Castro.
“You don’t say,” he said, trying for the diplomatic response. “Good for him.”
“Maybe it would have been,” she said. “He loves baseball, though.”
“He’s got talent,” Oliver said. “No reason he can’t have a good career if he keeps his head screwed on straight.” And learned not to party at every opportunity. Most young guys went a little nuts when they got to the majors, but Finn wasn’t as young as some. He’d spent a couple of years in a minor-league team out of college before the Cubs had drafted him. They’d sold him a year later. He should have wised up right about then.
But that wasn’t a talk he was going to have with Amelia. “I’ll let you get back to work. How do you feel about Sunday night?”
“I’ve always been a fan,” she said. “But we have to wait and see what happens. If the Saints are still in the running then Finn’s mom and dad are going to be in town. If not, well, won’t the team be throwing some sort of end-of-season event?”
Commiseration party, she meant, even if she was too tactful to say so. Damn it. He’d forgotten about that. Cockblocked by his own goddamned team. The universe definitely had it in for him right now. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. But I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
“You’re worth waiting for,” he said and hung up the phone.
“Pass the tequila, woman,” Em said, waving her empty glass in the air.
“Have you developed a secret booze habit in the last few years?” Amelia said with a half groan as she reached for the nearly empty bottle of Cuervo. “You’re drinking me under the table.”
“I’m part Irish. Good head for liquor.”
“Don’t give me that, I’m more Irish than you are.” They’d done the math once. Amelia’s grandfather on her dad’s side was Irish. Whereas Mari Castro’s mother had been half Irish, half English.