Kiss Me, I'm Irish Page 15

  “I bet it’s not.” He stared at the bedroom door.

  “Some things have changed.”

  Deuce’s gut tightened. “They sure have.”

  When he hung up, he went straight to the bathroom. “You okay in there, Ken-doll?”

  The door swung open.

  She was the lady in black leather again, all of that sexy sweetness replaced by the sharp-eyed Mensa candidate who’d fight him for her cyber café.

  “I have to work in the morning,” she said simply, slipping by him, her gaze never even fluttering over his undressed body.

  He managed to grab her elbow. “What’s the matter with you?”

  Her eyes widened. “I can’t spend the night here.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” he asked, scrambling to pick up and pull on his boxers. “You don’t even know what I talked to him about.”

  “I don’t have to know the details of your contract.” She opened the bedroom door. “I’ve been here before, Deuce. I know the drill.”

  “Look, I know I have a lousy record, but honestly you don’t—”

  Newman barked from the kitchen as the sliding glass door opened.

  “That’s Jack,” he said. “You can stay here. He doesn’t—”

  “Did you miss me, Newman?” A woman’s voice traveled up the stairs, and Kendra froze in place.

  Not Jack.

  “That’s Diana.” Kendra’s face registered the shock he felt.

  “Anybody home?” Dad’s call was louder, but completely familiar.

  Kendra tapped his bare chest. “Get some clothes on. I’ll deal with them.”

  She headed down the steps without looking back. “What are you guys doing home already?”

  In thirty seconds, he was dressed and following in her footsteps. The three of them were still hugging and fawning over the dog by the time he got in there.

  “Deuce!” Dad seized him in a bear hug immediately.

  “What are you doing back so soon?” Deuce asked, returning the hug and gave Diana a quick embrace. “I thought you were in Hawaii.”

  They looked guiltily at each other. “We never made it.”

  “No?” Kendra asked. “Why not? You called and said you were on your way.”

  “We went to Vegas instead,” Dad said, a boy’s grin breaking across his face. “Show them, Di.”

  Diana held up her left hand and Deuce blinked at the rock.

  “He didn’t want to do the honeymoon before the wedding,” Diana said. “Who knew your father was such a traditionalist?”

  “Oh.” Deuce made the sound, knowing he should do better than “oh” but unable. He looked at Kendra. Surely she’d squeal or jump with joy.

  But her expression was a blend of torture and surprise. Finally, she reached out for Diana. “Congratulations.” Then she threw an arm around Seamus and pulled him into a three-way hug. “I really wanted to dance at your wedding, though.”

  “We’ll have a big party at Monroe’s,” Diana promised, pulling back to beam at Deuce. “We have so much to celebrate.”

  “We have even more to celebrate,” Deuce said, his gaze sliding to Kendra.

  Diana sucked in a little breath. “What is it?”

  “I can only think of one thing that could make me any happier.” Dad said with conviction. What did he think they were going to announce? “Go ahead, make my day.”

  “Kendra made her thirty percent.”

  “Deuce is going back into the majors.”

  Their simultaneous announcements earned stunned looks from Seamus and Diana.

  “Excuse me?” Diana asked.

  “Did I hear what I think I heard?”

  “He just got the call.” Kendra’s eyes were bright, and her smile was forced. “They’re reinstating his contract.”

  “Deuce!” Diana exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, his gaze sliding to Kendra. “Is it?”

  He saw her swallow. “I’ll let you guys catch up,” she said, far too quickly. “And you have Deuce to thank for the thirty-percent windfall. He’s…” she paused and looked at him, her blue eyes full of something he’d never seen before. Something so much deeper than hero-worship and adoration. Something that filled him with that same sense of completion he’d felt upstairs when they made love.

  He could live for that look.

  “He’s incredible,” she finally said. “There’s never been anyone else like him.”

  “I’ve always known that.” At the sound of his dad’s voice, Deuce turned, expecting the old beam of pride. But instead, the Irish eyes were full of sadness and disappointment.

  Why wasn’t Seamus happy about the majors?

  Why wasn’t he?

  Seamus crouched at home plate, a worn catcher’s mitt barely hiding the frown he’d worn since they arrived at Rock High field for some practice.

  “Why are you separating so late?” he demanded as he threw the ball back to Deuce on the mound.

  Deuce shook his right arm, visualized perfect release timing and threw again.

  His dad had to dive to catch the far outside pitch. “Why are you striding to the left?”

  Deuce rubbed his elbow and caught the toss. Taking a deep breath, he held his glove in front of his face, stared into the strike zone and started his wind-up.

  “Why are you curling your arm like that?”

  Deuce paused, kicked the rubber and let out a frustrated sigh. Then he looked hard at the man who’d caught more pitches for him than anyone in the major leagues. “Why are you so ticked off at me?”

  The return look from Seamus was harsh, but that might have been the weary bones aching as the older man pushed himself into a stand. Most likely it was a dirty look; his dad would never let the pain show.

  “I’m not ticked off.”

  Coming off the mound, Deuce flipped his hat, wiped his brow with his forearm, and resisted the urge to spit. “You’ve been irritated with me since you got home last night,” Deuce said. “You’re married, the money’s coming in for the café and I’m going back to the majors. Just what does it take to make you happy, Dad?”

  That earned him a wry smile. “Same thing it’s always taken, son. I want you to be happy. When you’re happy, I’m happy.”

  “Happy is relative,” Deuce mused.

  Dad just nodded and tossed the extra ball he held, his gaze on the far fence. “Damn nice of you and Jack Locke to arrange that cyber reunion for Kennie,” he said slowly. “Guess you really didn’t want the bar after all.”

  So this is where it was going. The bar. “I wanted to help her,” he said. “It didn’t have anything to do with me not wanting to run Monroe’s. I would have been perfectly happy to…” To what? Marry Kendra and have those nine kids and a lifetime of what they’d had the night before?

  Yep.

  “I’d have been perfectly happy to run the bar, Dad.” Deuce finished the thought by putting his arm on his father’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”

  “Not me,” he said. “Diana.”

  “Diana?” Deuce pulled back and peered from under his cap. “How’d I disappoint her?”

  “She imagined herself a matchmaker.” Dad smiled as they walked to the water pitchers in the dugout. “It was her idea to let you two work it out alone together. In fact, she wanted to make a contest out of it. But I just wanted to let nature take its course.”

  “Nature took its course,” Deuce said quietly.

  Dad froze mid-step. “It did?”

  “If its course was to make me fall stupidly in love with her, then, yeah. Nature’s right on course.” It felt good to admit it, he realized, guiding his father to the shade of the dugout.

  “But you’re going back to Vegas tonight,” Dad said, as though he didn’t understand. “And that was some lousy goodbye for a woman you love. She waved at you and scooted out the door.”

  Deuce could still see the look on Kendra’s face when she’d said goodbye. All breezy a
nd light. For a moment, he’d thought maybe she was glad he was leaving. As though her admissions of love and lifelong dreams hadn’t been real.

  If he hadn’t seen how she’d looked when he made love to her…if he hadn’t heard the truth in her voice when she said she’d loved him, he might not have believed it. But he’d seen and he’d heard and he believed.

  “It wouldn’t have worked anyway, Dad.” He had to try and believe that instead. “We…have some history. Stuff you don’t know about.”

  Dad spun the red lid of a thermos. “I know about the baby, Deuce.”

  Deuce stared at him. “You do?”

  “I got eyes and ears, son. I saw her expression every time she passed that jersey on the wall. That’s why I took it down.”

  “You took it down? I thought Diana did.”

  Dad took a sip of water and swallowed hard. “You’re gonna have to stop blaming Diana for everything you don’t like around here. She’s my wife now.”

  Deuce sighed. “I didn’t know about the baby. She didn’t tell me. I had no way of knowing.”

  “You could have called her.”

  “You could have called me,” Deuce countered.

  Dad rolled his eyes. “You just do the opposite of everything I say anyway.”

  “That’s not true. Not always. Okay, most of the time.”

  “More often than not,” Dad said. “And in that case, I felt I needed to butt out.”

  Deuce dropped on to the bench with a thud. Looking at his dad, he decided it was time to ask the one question he’d never dreamed he’d ask his father. “I’m supposed to get on a plane tonight for Vegas. Tonight.” The thought stabbed at him. Not another night with Kendra until…until when? Why should she wait for him? She might think it could be another ten years till he showed up again. Even though he knew with his age, elbow and history, he’d be lucky to get one more year as a reliever.

  Then, he’d come home again. And would he destroy her life a third time? “What should I do, Dad?”

  He waited for the advice, the sage quote from Mickey Mantle, the guidance he so desperately needed. He waited, he realized, for someone to tell him it was okay to follow his heart and not his head.

  Come on, Dad. Tell me something.

  Play to win. Hit it out of the park. Throw a curve when they expect a fastball…some straightforward baseball analogy to make him understand how he could justify walking away from his last shot at glory…or ignoring the happiness that Kendra offered.

  But his father just ran a hand through his mane of white hair and smiled. “Only you know what’s important in your life, son. Only you know the answer.”

  The answer was as loud and clear as an umpire’s call.

  “IF YOU DON’T let me in this house this minute I’m going to break the door down.” The threat was accompanied by three loud raps at Kendra’s door.

  Kendra sighed heavily, knowing it was a complete waste to ignore him. She stuffed her new blue notebook under the sofa cushion and padded barefoot to the front door to open it with no small amount of disgust.

  “Cut the drama, Jack.”

  Jack grinned and put his arms on his sister’s shoulders. “Why are you ignoring me?”

  “Why aren’t you sleeping late? You must have been at Monroe’s until two or three last night.”

  “The last email exchange was at two-thirty and I couldn’t sleep this morning. Deuce and his dad left to go play baseball, and Diana blew out a few minutes later dressed to beat the world. That left me with a dog who doesn’t know how to make coffee.” He looked at her little galley kitchen. “Don’t make me go to some cyber café for my fix, Ken.”

  She smiled and tilted her head toward the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll make you a cup. What time are you going to the airport?”

  “My flight leaves Boston at one, so I should get the heck out of here soon. Will you take me?”

  “Isn’t Deuce taking you?”

  Jack’s eyes darkened to a deep sage as he regarded her. “It’s a little inconvenient for him to go all the way to Logan Airport twice in one day.”

  Twice. In one day.

  “So, he’s leaving today?” She congratulated herself on not allowing a crack in her voice.

  “He got on an American flight at six-twenty tonight. His agent wants him in Vegas by tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh.” Kendra managed to scoop the grounds into the coffee filter without spilling a single grain. “Well, sure. I’ll take you to the airport.”

  If she played the timing right, she might never have to see Deuce again. She could take hours returning from the airport in Boston, and by the time she got home, he’d be gone.

  “He’s in love with you.”

  Jack’s statement jerked her back to reality.

  “He’s in love with the fact that I’m in love with him,” she said. At least, that’s how she’d just written it in her brand-new diary, which she was far too old to keep, but much too sad not to. “He’s addicted to hero-worship and I give it to him in spades.”

  “True.”

  “At least I know who I am and what my weaknesses are,” she said, more to herself than her brother. “You know, I was horrified when he showed up here a few weeks ago. So certain he had the power to ruin my life and wreck my world.”

  “And you showed up in leather pants and wrecked his.” Jack laughed softly. “But he was gone long before you put on the battle gear, Ken.”

  “I don’t think so, but you’re sweet to try and make me feel better.”

  Jack plopped his elbows on the counter and looked hard at her. “I’m not trying to make you feel better. I think the guy’s nuts if he walks away from you again—”

  “Again?” This time her voice did crack.

  “He told me about the baby.”

  Her arms suddenly felt very heavy. “He did?”

  “Well, truth be told, I started to tell him about your…history. And then he told me it was his.”

  “You were very busy this morning,” she said, trying for a light tone. Then she closed her eyes for a moment. This was Jack. She didn’t have to pretend. “I’m sorry, Jack. I never wanted you to know.”

  He shrugged. “I managed not to punch his face off, but only because he looked good and truly miserable about it.”

  She took a step closer to the counter and put her hand over his. “So how do you feel now that you know who the father of that baby was?”

  “I feel sad because you and Deuce would make some awesome babies together.”

  She felt the color rise to her cheeks.

  “And you know what else I think, Kendra? I think that if I ever find a woman who loves me as unconditionally as you love him, I would grab hold of her and never, ever let her go.”

  He flipped his hand and squeezed hers.

  “I hope you do, Jack.”

  “And while I’m doling out brotherly wisdom, here’s something else for you to ponder.”

  Jack was a rebel, but he’d never steered her wrong. Whatever he told her would be true and right. “What is it?”

  “We made up all that stuff in the basement because we knew you were listening.”

  For the first time in hours, she laughed. “I knew that.” But not what she heard yesterday. Deuce loved her. He’d admitted it.

  “You did not,” he countered, sounding very much like the teasing big brother he was. “But it’s nice to see you smile.”

  The fact was, she had her business, her friends, her brother and her integrity. She didn’t have Deuce, but she had a lot to smile about.

  SINCE SHE’D BEEN so creative in avoiding Deuce all day, Kendra’s decision to hang around Logan Airport all afternoon and into the evening made no sense at all.

  Before Deuce had gotten back to Diana’s, she’d packed Jack into her car and they’d taken off for the airport.

  Then Jack’s flight had been delayed, so she stayed and spent a few more hours with him. Then she dawdled in an airport bookstore, and pretty soon she was hung
ry, so she had some pizza and then she looked at her watch. It was just past five.

  She tried to tell herself she’d just killed some time to avoid the traffic back to the Cape, but who was she kidding?

  She’d stayed long enough to say goodbye to Deuce. She had to kiss him one last time, and whisper once more that she loved him.

  With a little smile and a pounding heart, she headed toward the main check-in for American. Anyone on Flight 204 to Las Vegas should be in line there right about now.

  She understood his decision to play his game, to renew his contract. Jack said he’d only be a reliever, and this would probably be his last season, but it didn’t matter.

  For the first time in her life, she felt free. Not of loving Deuce—she always would—but of that desperate feeling that somehow her life was incomplete without him. It wasn’t. It was full. So she could certainly be strong enough to wish him well and say goodbye.

  She scanned the line for a tall, handsome, powerful man with bedroom eyes and a sexy smile. Her knees weakened as blood rushed to her nerve endings, but she continued walking past the long line of people checking in.

  No Deuce.

  She slipped outside and studied the people checking in at curbside.

  No Deuce.

  Back in the terminal, she followed the path from baggage check-in to the entrance to the gates, as far as she could go without a ticket. She watched dozens of passengers walk through security, dozens of men—some tall, some dark, some not bad looking…but no Deuce.

  The monitor told her his flight was on time. But she must have missed him. He must have arrived early. Of course, he was anxious to get back to his real field of dreams.

  Baseball was still his true love. If he didn’t know who he was without the crowds and the competition, then he’d find out next year or the year after. Deuce would never choose a boring life in Rockingham over the major leagues. Even if that boring life included her.

  She waited about ten more minutes, then swallowed hard and headed toward the parking lot.

  The biggest victory, she decided on the drive home, was the fact that there were no tears this time.