Her heart gave one last surge of indignation at being tossed aside for his baseball career and her public image.

“I did, too, until you slipped out of my office this morning without so much as a goodbye before deciding you wanted to leave town—and me—for good.”

“Delaney, if I thought for a second that you wanted to weather the media storm with me—as a team—I would call your father in here right now and demand a new contract for next year.”

The seriousness that she loved about him—loved?—yes, the seriousness she utterly loved about him was evident in his claim. He would really do that.

“You wouldn’t just be staying because the Rebels have a shot at going all the way?” She had to know the truth. If it hurt, she could deal with it. But she hadn’t shed her shyness and her sarong last night to return to hedging her way through life today.

Not when love was on the line.

“I would stay because we have a shot at going all the way.” He squeezed her tighter. “Me and you.”

Now her pulse spiked wildly, her happiness spilling over like shaken champagne in a victorious locker room.

“Then why didn’t you tell me that as soon as you walked in here today?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, desperate for him. For a future she wouldn’t delay another second.

“I thought you deserved better than to be pressured into a relationship just to make your father keep me on the team.” He kissed her forehead, the soft press of his lips echoing the understanding that flashed across her mind.

“You hoped I would choose you because I wanted you and not because I was backed into a corner.” It was noble and selfless, and just exactly the kind of thing the man she loved would do. “While that’s really honorable of you, Rick Warren, if you ever scare me into thinking you’re leaving again, I’ll trade you to the Alaskan team myself.”

He winced.

“You realize there’s no major league club up there, don’t you?

“You can be the first player contracted,” she assured him, wondering if it was possible for a woman to glow from the inside out. She just might be the first case ever.

“Well, that’s not going to happen, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Does my father know about this plan of yours?” She’d ship her dad off to Alaska, for that matter, if he had attempted to meddle in her love life ever again.

“No.” Rick backed her into the cherry wainscoting beside the window, out of sight of the gardeners at work on the flowers. “Although he didn’t seem one bit surprised that we spent the night together. I think he knew we’ve been eyeing each other for a while. I do believe he sees more than he would admit.”

She shook her head. “He let me think you might have slept with me to secure a ticket off the team.”

He shrugged. “Maybe he wanted to see if you were willing to believe the worst of me. But I’m pretty sure that by the time all the smoke blew over today, he was hoping there’d be a proposal in the works.”

She felt the heat crawl up her cheeks. “He is ridiculously old-fashioned.”

“Are you kidding? I think that’s great. And since I’ve been watching your every move for the last year and a half, I feel like I know you very well already.” Rick reached into his shirt and withdrew a clunky gold band with a tiny diamond in the middle and lots of engraving. “Enough to think a proposal isn’t a bad idea.”

“Rick!” She wondered if a more sophisticated woman would tell him not to be silly, and that of course she wasn’t expecting marriage after a single night together. But the look in his eyes told her this was no joke. “I couldn’t possibly—”

“How about we call it a pre-engagement ring and let the media make of it what they will?” A rare grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “You and I can sort it all out at our leisure, but in the meantime, I would be honored if you’d wear my college national championship ring from the year we captured the division I title. I figure it’s a good place holder until I can find a ring more—”

“You really mean it?” She was shaking like a leaf as he held an irreplaceable piece of jewelry close to her hand like an offering.

“I’m crazy about you, Delaney. I love you and I would like you to think about a future with me.”

Maybe her jaw dropped. Or maybe it was the tears that were rolling down her cheeks all of the sudden, but something must have tipped him off that she was completely overwhelmed because he cupped her cheek with infinite tenderness.

“I know this might seem sudden to you, but it’s been a long time coming for me. And a wise woman I know taught me life is too short to wait for happiness to find us.”

“Oh, Rick!” She clutched his hand, hardly daring to believe her dreams could come true simply by daring to act on them. “I’ve loved you since your very first line drive to right field that brought in—”

“Dwight Wrigley for the win against Florida.” He grinned. “And I’ve loved you since the first meet and greet after spring training when you took me on a tour of the trophy room without ever once making eye contact.”

Laughter burst through the emotions lodged at the base of her throat. “I’m no good at flirting.”

His grin turned wolfish. “You sure got my attention when you were ready.”

Warmth tingled through her.

“I would be so honored to spend my future with you, Rick Warren.” She waggled her fingers at the diamond in his hand. “And I’m proud to wear your ring.”

As he slid the piece onto her finger, he bent to brush a kiss along her lips.

Without question, Delaney knew they were sealing a bargain to last a lifetime.





Epilogue



Three months later


“SO HOW DO YOU LIKE the taste of humble pie, big guy?”

Ozzie, the new lead disc jockey on Big Apple Sports Radio grinned as the fax came across the news wire listing the year’s Gold Glove winners.

His morning-show partner had gotten demoted from the drive-time show to a late-night slot after ticking off a few too many of the game’s fans with inaccurate information and all-around lazy commentary. The program coordinator had given the top spot to Oz, citing his vast baseball knowledge and appeal to listeners.

“He’s not the only one shoveling it down,” Scott, Oz’s new color man, appeared over his shoulder to check out the Gold Glove winners on the list. The kid was sharp and outspoken, but he never took the low road. “If you’d asked me last summer, I probably would have predicted these guys going down in flames.”

“Baseball players are young,” Ozzie remarked, tearing off the printout in preparation for the 6:00 a.m. show. “And they live every second in the spotlight. You think they’re the only guys who make an occasional misstep? But no one predicts we’re going down in flames when we mess up.”

Oz had never liked the way public figures ended up as punching bags so often, and he hoped his show would be different.

“Brian Marshall went down in flames,” Scott observed, picking up the coffeepot for his morning java.

“Watch your step, kid,” Oz threatened without any heat. He wasn’t sorry to see the loudmouth off the a.m. airwaves, but he kept that opinion to himself. “All I’m saying is that these guys deserve a break. They play more games than any other professional athlete and they work in a highly competitive field.”

“Some work harder than others,” Scott observed, pointing to the mug shots of the players taking home fielding honors this season. Virtually every player Brian Marshall had pegged as a thug had proved instrumental for his team this season and every last damn one of them had copped the trophy for his respective position.

“It was so damn cool to see Rick Warren lead a team to the World Series.” Chalk one up for the old dudes. It had taken Warren a decade, but he’d proven that you didn’t have to be a showboat to bring your team to the playoffs.

“Plus, he married Blair’s daughter. You know they’ll tap him for a coaching slot in another season or two.” Scott shook his head, as if to suggest some guys had all the luck.

Oz knew better. The guy had served his time in the trenches. Baseball was fortunate to have him around as a counterpoint to the young studs that focused solely on their batting average. The rookies could learn a thing or two about the game from a guy like Warren.

“You know,” Scott continued, glopping cream cheese on his bagel and coating half the printout with what he splattered around. “Now that I think on it, all these guys took up with women this year.”

Ozzie thought back to the news bits that had come in over the last few months. “That’s right. Montero is still courting the singer.”

“I’m in love with Jamie McRae, man,” Scott declared. “Let’s invite Montero on the show and ask him to bring her along. She can sing that baseball song of hers.”

“What are we, Entertainment Tonight?” Ozzie swiped off the cream cheese. “We’re getting back to serious baseball around here, remember?”

Although Jamie McRae was the bomb.

“Hey, I’ve got it.” Scott snapped his fingers. “We invite Javier Velasquez and Brody Davis on the same show and see if they go at it again.”

“Not interested. Besides, it’s old news. Those two have been buds since, like, a week after their brawl.” Oz had read a feature piece on them a few weeks ago. Apparently their new girlfriends had become fast friends while comparing notes during the playoff games.