Page 9 of The Billionaire's Catch

“I would never.” Her voice softened. “No one is saying you can’t have fun, but when the pictures show you bare-chested with three women on each arm and a whole lot of alcohol, it reflects on the team. Instead of talking about your batting average, they’re touting your scoring average, and I’m not talking about homeruns.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize anyone cared about my scoring average.”

She flushed. “I do not. If you want to play strip poker with a harem of women in a private hotel room, go for it.” Her blush deepened, and she hurried forward. “What I meant is you can do whatever you want in private. But when you’re starting fights all over town, landing on every influencer’s feed, it affects the image of the team. People won’t want their grandkids wearing your jersey. To make matters worse, your teammates follow you everywhere you go. You influence them.”

His smile faded as the words sparked the familiar guilt, images from the past. The partying, the clubbing, round after round. The accident. “What do you want me to do? Take them to a sewing circle? Charades? Are we banned from clubs?”

“Of course not.” She rubbed her hands together. “It’s just how raucous they get.”

“How about strip Charades?”

She closed her eyes, opened them with a glare. “I’m just trying to do my job. You’re not taking this seriously.”

He stood taller, and all humor departed. “Actually, I consider it very serious when a person tries to run my life. Would you share the details of your love life with me?”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested,” she ground out.

But suddenly he was interested. Very interested. It was ridiculous, to feel attraction to a woman who wanted to control his life, yet something about her drew him in. She was so petite next to him, yet so strong and challenging. He moved imperceptibly closer. “You’d be surprised.”

She met his gaze. “I’m not trying to run your love life. I don’t care if you start with letter A and go all the way to Z in one night. But I do care if you’re out of control on social media. Just tone it down a little. You could be a role model.”

Once, he’d considered himself a role model. It had made him proud, and he’d worked hard to live up to the name. Yet how could he ever play that role again, despite the many people who still believed it? It didn’t matter that he did good in other ways. No one knew the extent of his philanthropy, and he was happy to keep it that way. He had much to atone for. “You said the fans care about my bad image, but that’s not what it seemed like at the club,” he said gruffly. “They seemed pretty happy.”

“They were happy because you looked like–” She stopped abruptly.

And just like that, the humor reemerged. “A hot tamale?”

She blushed. “That came out wrong. Do you know what you do to women?” Her gaze darted to his expansive chest. “That came out wrong, too.”

He moved closer, straight into her personal space. Her hands came up; when they touched his chest, she jerked back as if she touched fire. He kept his voice low. “You had your say, and now I’ll have mine. My job is to perform on the field, to bring in runs and make plays. I’ve done my part to turn the Dragons into a championship team. I’m not going to change my life because you don’t like an out-of-context photo on social media.” He lowered his voice to a murmur. “As they say, everyone loves a bad boy.”

“Not everyone.” She shook her head just a little too swiftly. “Not me.”

“No?” He moved fractionally closer. “Not even deep down?”

Her breathing turned uneven, betraying his effect on her. Even she wasn’t completely immune to the bad boy image. Yet she notched up her chin. “Absolutely not.”

“This is my life, and I plan to live it. Have you ever considered the possibility I’m not treated fairly? If a group of women ask for a photo, suddenly I’m dating ten women at the same time.”

“That’s why you have to be extra careful.” For a second she looked uncomfortable, then she pressed forward. “There’s a behavior clause in your contract.”

So that’s how she wanted to play it. “If that’s a threat, it’s not going to work. I could stroll naked through Times Square, and Pat wouldn’t fire me. I’m the league’s best catcher.” He wasn’t exaggerating his claims. His numbers backed him up, as did the championships. He’d have to do something far more serious than walking naked in public for Pat to trade him.

“Obviously, you’re not going to listen now. We’ll continue this later.” She abruptly turned and stomped away. He flexed his muscles as he stood there, yet his gaze didn’t stray until she disappeared from view. Did she realize her escape was only temporary?

How could this be the same woman from the club, the sultry siren who conversed like a close friend? More importantly, how could he still want her despite her animosity? The same urge that compelled him to prowl a seedy alley for her hit him now, and he had to force himself not to follow. He would bide his time. Of course, if he wanted to placate her, all he had to do was tell her the truth about that fateful night.

It was the easiest thing he could never do.

CHAPTER 4

“Another round for everyone.” Cheers sounded at Jason’s announcement, the third of the evening.

“You’re awesome, man.” Alan held a beer in one hand and a shot of the best vodka money could buy in the other. “This is the best team ever.”

“Because of the ballplaying or the alcohol?” Jason laughed. He took a sip of his own beer, only his second. Although it was the team’s day off tomorrow, he practiced every day. Plus, someone needed to stay sober with all the rookies barely on the right side of legal.

“Both.” Alan broke into hysterical laughter, slapping his hand on the table as if he’d uttered an SNL-worthy joke. His expression turned serious. “But really, man, I pushed for this team because of you. I couldn’t give up the chance to play alongside the great Jason Sterling.”

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