Out at Home (3 page)

An ancient security guard opened the door when she flashed the press pass Luther had given her and directed her down a long corridor.

Framed photos of past and present stars hung on the blue walls. She glanced briefly at the photos as she walked, wondering absently if some day Brady’s face would grace these halls.

The Indianapolis Racers were an expansion team, joining the United League only six years prior. It was a welcome change to the city, as well as the surrounding towns, as sports fans felt they needed someone to root for when the football and basketball seasons ended.

Taylor rounded a corner and stopped near double doors. A sign warning that only employees were allowed was pasted to each door. Taylor tried the knob, dismayed to find it locked. Tempted though she was to turn around and go home, she knocked instead.

A peppy blonde dressed in a stylish navy blue business suit opened the door, extending her right hand. Taylor shook it carefully, a little startled at the other woman's sudden appearance. “Hi! I’m Stephanie Carmichael. You must be the lucky girl who gets to interview Brady Nolan!” Cringing inwardly, Taylor nodded. “Yeah. That would be me.”

“follow me,” Stephanie ordered as she held the door open. Taylor moved past Stephanie and then followed her through a winding hall and down a flight of stairs. Stephanie stopped before a door with a broad smile.

“This is the press room. I think it will work.” She pushed the door open as Taylor took a deep breath. Stepping past Stephanie, Taylor was not surprised to find it empty. “Mr. Nolan will be here in a few minutes. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Figures
, Taylor thought. He would make her wait; that was always his game. Well, that was fine with her. She’d use it to her advantage.

Taking in the large, spacious room, she tried to figure what would be the best way to position them both.

Her eyes landed on a small table shoved against a wall. She pulled it out and set a chair on each side. Next, she visited the water cooler in the back corner, poured them each a cup, and set them down in front of each chair.

She retrieved her recorder from her bag and checked that it had a fresh, clean tape inside before placing it in the middle of the table.

Sliding into the chair facing the door, she casually bent over the table to flip through her notes. She wanted him to walk in and see her as comfortable as possible.

But as the minutes ticked by on her watch, her confidence started to fade and her fingers itched with the need to smack him the moment he sat down.

Finally, the door opened and she fought the tension that threatened to scrunch up her shoulders. She forced herself to finish reading the sentence she was staring at before looking up to face him.

When she did lift her head, she found him leaning in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, smirk permanently plastered on his lips. He looked nearly the same as he had all those years ago except his hair was cut shorter and he’d acquired a few lines around his mouth.

Dressed in faded jeans and a hunter green, collared shirt, it wasn't hard to see that the well-defined muscles in his arms and chest had developed over the years.

Her heart thudded as her blood pumped fire through her veins. She reached an amazingly steady hand to her cup and sipped slowly at her water, eyes never leaving his. He barked out a short laugh as he pushed away from the door frame and approached her. As he sauntered toward the table, she briefly wondered if she should stand. She decided against it - he wasn’t royalty.

“Taylor, Taylor, Taylor,” he muttered, smirk still gracing his lips. “I wondered what happened to you.” He loomed over her, causing her to look up. Perhaps she should have stood.

“Just sit down and let’s get this over with,” she told him, glaring coldly. “I have more important things to do.” Laughing, he bent down to plant a kiss on her cheek. “There’s that attitude I love. Oh wait, what was it you called it? State of mind?”

“Sit down,” she repeated, fighting the urge to childishly wipe away his kiss. “I don’t have all day.”

“Of course you do,” he replied, his smirk lingering as if it was the focus of the interview. “Your editor is dying for this interview. He’d send you away for a week with me if I promised him an exclusive.”

She didn’t reply, just continued to glare at him, fury dancing in her eyes. With a shrug, he dropped into the chair across from her. She took a deep breath and flipped the pages of her note pad. “Where do you want to start?” Reaching across the table, he took her hand. She tried to pull away but he held it tighter. “Let’s have dinner tonight. We can talk about old times.”

She squirmed as little electric currents shot at her heart at the mere touch of his hand. “No. Now let go of me.” He grinned, eyes crinkling in the corners, and released her. “Okay, if you don't want to have dinner, how about you come to a party with me instead?”

She groaned. “I am not going to any party with you Brady. Now can we just move along?” Sitting back, his narrowed eyes raked over her body. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember. I bet you have men knocking on your door, begging you to give them the time of day.”

She ducked her head. “No. Now will you please just answer a couple questions so we can move on with our lives and never have to see each other again?”

His smirk faded as he bent over the table, invading her space. He placed his index finger under her chin, lifting her face. His green eyes probed her, hard and firm. “Not at all, Taylor. I have no intention of doing any interview here and I definitely have no intention of letting you go again.”
Chapter Three

Sitting stiffly in the passenger seat of his car, she glared at the passing scenery, refusing to even glance his way. How the hell had she totally lost control of this situation? One second she was standing her ground with him and the next she’s in his car on her way to some cookout-party thing. She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh. How she absolutely loathed him!

“Don’t pout, love,” Brady said from the driver’s seat, that irritating smirk still lingering on his lips. His left hand gripped the wheel while his right rested on the console between the seats. “It doesn’t become you.”

Folding her arms over her chest, she scowled, feeling a bit childish. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why?” he asked. Using his free hand, he ran his knuckles lightly over her cheek. “I used to call you that all the time.” Jerking her head out of his reach, she banged it on the window in the process. She squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the amused smile she was certain he’d be wearing.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

He laughed. “Geez, Taylor. You make it sound like I’m kidnapping you.”

“You are,” she muttered under her breath as she slumped down in the leather seat.

He leaned closer to her, eyes still on the road. “What was that?”

“Nothing," she said as she straightened. "Let’s just get there and get this over with. I have other important things to do today.” He tried to take her hand but she moved as far away from him as she could, tucking her hands under her firmly crossed arms.

A tiny smirk toyed with the corners of his mouth. “Come on, Taylor. Loosen up. You’ll have fun. And I promised you that I’d do the interview at the party if you’d come with me. It’s only going to be a few guys from the team cooking out and drinking beer. We’ll have a little chat and then maybe you can talk to the other players, too.”

She had to admit that he was right; though she would never say it aloud. After he'd blackmailed her into attending this cookout with him, she'd started turning it over in her mind, figuring out how to use the situation to her advantage. If he did finally talk to her, she’d maybe be able to get some background information from his teammates. If he didn’t talk to her, well, he had mentioned that the guy who was hosting this party was his best friend from the farm team. She’d corner him and get a story. It wouldn’t be exactly what Luther wanted but it’d be something.

When he exited the highway, he followed a well maintained two lane road through a quiet neighborhood. Huge houses with manicured lawns took up both sides of the road. She wondered vaguely if Brady owned a house like one of these yet or if he was renting for the time being. She knew that his parents had moved out of the area shortly after Brady had graduated high school so he wasn’t staying with them. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him about it, but she refrained. She refused to get too personal, not wanting to give the impression that she had any lingering feelings for him.

Finally he turned into an immaculate condominium community. He stopped at the gate to enter a code into the electronic box. When the gate lifted, he eased his black Maxima past. He obeyed the posted 5 MPH sign as Taylor’s eyes drank in the beautifully designed, two story condos.

Most were deep red brick with small flower beds in the front. yellows, pinks, and reds peered from the planters, adding color to the otherwise green landscape.

An older couple held hands as they walked a leashed mutt of mixed heritage along the sidewalk, conversing quietly with each other. A pang hit Taylor's heart - a longing for her own parents. Would they had been like that if her mother wouldn't have died and her father wouldn't have fall en into -

whatever he'd fall en into?

Slowing, Brady pulled into a driveway behind a silver SUV. He killed the engine and gave her a wink. “Ready, love?”

“Who exactly lives here?” she asked as she opened her door and stepped out of the car.

still grinning, Brady came around to her side to grab her hand and pulled her toward the house. “Kyle Shepard.” Stunned, she froze, somehow managing to yank his hand back. He stopped to face her. “Kyle Shepard? Catcher for the Racers?” He nodded. “Yeah. I told you a couple of the players would be here.”

She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. “I thought you meant from the farm team!” A slow grin spread across his face and lit up his eyes. “Feeling shy? Nervous about meeting professional players?”

“I….uh…oh hell, Brady! You know I am. I don’t fit in with those people,” she confessed, trying to keep her voice from turning into an indignant squeak.

His smile disappeared as he bent to look her straight in the eyes. “That’s what you said about my friends in school, remember? But you ate them alive.”

Wincing, her heart fluttered briefly as she caught a quick glance of the Brady that she'd fall en for years ago. But that Brady didn't last long as he quickly disappeared - vanishing into thin air. The present Brady kissed her nose before grabbing her hand once more. “Let’s go, Taylor. Grow a set, will you?”

“I swear to God, Brady, that I will kick you in your set if you don’t stop jerking me around,” she muttered with every step she took. She didn’t see his smirk change to a genuine smile.

Brady pulled her up the front step and rang the bell. Taylor took that opportunity to wrangle her hand out of his. Turning to look at her, his luscious brows crashed together before amusement overtook his face. His lips relaxed into a smile.

A couple seconds later the door flew open to reveal the tall, dark Racers’ catcher. His eyes lit up when they landed on Brady. “Finally! I thought you’d never get here.” He leaned past Brady to point at Taylor, still pouting behind Brady's back. “Oh, is this the girl you were telling me about?” Taylor had barely registered Kyle's words when Brady grabbed her arm gently and pulled her forward. “Yeah. This is Taylor Lockwood. Taylor, meet Kyle Shepard.”

Taylor smiled and shook his offered hand. “It’s really nice to meet you, Kyle,” she managed to mutter.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Taylor,” he told her, warm eyes shining. “Brady never shuts up about you. Come in. Not everyone is here yet.” Brady motioned for her to precede him and she stumbled through the door, wondering what Kyle had meant about Brady. Certainly Brady never talked about her.

Color flooded her cheeks. Oh no! He wouldn't have bragged to his teammates, would he? Not about something that had happened in high school.

A lump formed in her throat. How could she face these people, too? If they knew….

“Relax, love,” he said, leaning over to whisper in her ear. His warm breath tickled her skin, causing an involuntary shudder to work its way through her body. “Enjoy yourself. I promised I would talk to you and I will.” Shivering, she hugged her arms to her body as she followed Kyle out to a huge deck.

Three people looked up as she stepped through the sliding glass doors. The man she instantly recognized as Ian Pitner, shortstop for the team.

He came forward to introduce himself with a wide smile on his face.

The women approached her next. The first one was about her height with long, dark hair and friendly green eyes.

“Hi! I’m Tabby Hays,” she said, extending her hand. She pointed to the taller brunette behind her. “This is Zoey Martin.” Realization hit Taylor like a brick. She smiled as she shook Tabby’s hand. “Yes, I read your column all the time. It’s amazing.” A little pink touched Tabby’s cheeks. “Thanks.” She motioned for Taylor to follow her to a couple of chairs. “So, how do you know Brady?”

“Um, well,” she said, her uneasiness returning. “I knew him in high school. But actually I was supposed to be interviewing him today for our local newspaper. He sort of dragged me here.”

“Really,” Tabby said, leaning forward. “What paper?”

"
The Somersville Times
," Taylor said.

They talked shop for the next ten minutes, Tabby describing her job as a columnist for a sports magazine, until Brady interrupted them. “Taylor, love, do you want something to drink?”

Her head snapped up as she blinked, remembering that she'd come to this place with Brady in order to interview him. “Water, please. And don’t call me that.”

Smirking, he swaggered away to fetch her water. Tabby and Zoey exchanged a glance as she continued to glare at his back.

“Trouble in paradise?” Zoey asked, innocence radiating in her eyes.

Taylor snapped back around, her fingers curled into fists in an effort to stop them from trembling. “No! It’s nothing like that. I mean, I’m not involved with him or anything.”