Oh, sweet, merciful heaven.
“Dad.” She crossed the Persian carpet in the big, octagonal conservatory that served as her father’s home office. Every wall that wasn’t a window or a bookshelf was covered with cherry wainscoting. Vintage baseball memorabilia dotted the shelves along with his collection of Irish wolfhound statuary. His two flesh and blood dogs rose to their feet as Delaney neared their master. “This isn’t the 1950s. There is no quantifiable ‘right thing’ to be done after a man and a woman share a kiss.”
“Is that what you call it these days?” Replacing the photo in its frame, Daniel Blair III turned his laser-blue eyes to settle on her at last. He had a powerful aura about him despite his five-foot-six frame, and he’d always been the source of hero worship for her from her earliest memories. He’d given her a pony for her tenth birthday. But he’d also given her a liberal education abroad, including stints in desperately poor countries so that she knew better than to take her blessings for granted.
“Excuse me?” She halted her progress, reaching out to pet the dog closer to her in the hope she could at least win over one of the males in the room.
“This.” He waved a printout of the photo snapped of her and Rick in the locker room. “Is this what you call a kiss?”
Her cheeks burned. Could this be any more awkward?
“I really don’t think anyone has the right to judge a private moment but the parties involved.”
One of her father’s shaggy gray eyebrows lifted.
“This isn’t one of your legal documents. This is my first basemen.” He brought the paper up for a closer inspection. “Are you even wearing clothes in this photo?”
She slapped a hand over her eyes.
“Dad, I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman.” Still, there was something about being interrogated by the family patriarch in the heart of his lair that made her feel like she was sixteen and in trouble for staying out too late after the dance. “I wouldn’t even be here right now discussing this with you if I hadn’t wanted to make sure that Rick isn’t penalized in any way for what happened.”
Her heart did a funny double-time beat at the mention of his name. He’d never been far from her thoughts today, and not because of the stupid photo leak.
No, she’d been thinking of the way it felt to drift off to sleep in Rick’s arms, her head pillowed on his bicep and her leg tucked between his.
“What makes you think you’ll fare any better?” Her father tossed the printout on his massive desk and then folded his arms over his gray, worsted wool vest. “Don’t forget who you work for, miss. As far as I can tell, you should both be penalized for conducting your private affairs in the workplace.”
“So fire me.” Indignation burned away any residual embarrassment. She was excellent at her job as a contract lawyer and her services came damn cheap since she was family. “Maybe free agency will be a good thing for me. But don’t hurt the team by trading away one of the most productive first basemen we’ve ever had.”
Her father studied her for a long moment, and she wondered if perhaps she’d gotten her point across. But then his eyes narrowed and he lowered his voice.
“Has it ever occurred to you maybe he wants to get traded and this is precisely the sort of stunt that he knew would send him on his way?”
Just the idea of it gave her a physical jolt. But she knew Rick better than that.
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s going to be a free agent after the end of the season. He doesn’t need to resort to underhanded tactics to get out of the organization.”
Did her father believe she was naive enough to fall for that kind of manipulation anyway? Of course he did. He knew as well as anyone how little she’d dated. Half the reason for her selectivity had to do with the man in front of her. She loved her dad, but he was a tough critic. Having him doubt her judgment now made the ache in her chest all the worse.
He leaned back to have a seat on his desk. Folding his arms, he toyed with one silver cufflink, spinning the emblem around and around.
“The boy wants a spot in the playoffs,” he reminded her, bringing to mind the buzz about Rick even before he joined the Rebels. After having spent the first eight years of his career as a utility player bounced around the league, Rick had made noises about wanting a shot with a team who could make it to the playoffs.
Worry knotted in her chest. It was one thing for her father to toss out a ludicrous suggestion during an emotional argument because he was worried about her. But it was another for him to have thought about the notion enough to actually be concerned how he presented it to her. That meant the full wisdom of megasuccessful Daniel Blair III had been applied to the equation and he still thought Rick Warren might have orchestrated some elaborate setup to pave his way to another team in the league.
“But the Rebels are over five hundred.” It was a stronger position than they’d been in the last several seasons after the All-Star break. “He can have the shot at the playoffs here.”
“Sure,” her father agreed, nodding while he continued to flip around the cufflink. “But he’d have a better chance in New York or Boston.”
The truth of his assessment sent her back a step. Sure, she’d been the one to make the overture toward Rick. But could he have capitalized on the moment for reasons all his own? No, no, and hell, no. This was simply what her father did—plant enough doubt to make her second-guess herself. But it wasn’t happening this time.
Behind her father, the intercom buzzed on his desk, followed by his secretary’s voice.
“Mr. Blair, Rick Warren is here to see you.”
The news of his arrival felt like confirmation of her fears. Why would Rick be at her family’s home so soon after the story broke? Could he be here for the kind of closed-door meeting that got players shipped out in record time? Had her father even summoned him, or had Rick arrived to do some negotiating of his own?
“Send him in please,” her father said, before turning to her. “Perhaps we’ll be able to decipher the young man’s motives sooner rather than later.”
She’d barely blinked away her surprise when Rick charged into the room without being announced, her father’s personal secretary hurrying in behind him to apologize for the intrusion. With a flick of a weary wrist, Daniel Blair waved away the employee while Rick looked back and forth between Delaney and her father.
“I want the first flight out of here before this mess snowballs any more.”
4
RICK HAD BEEN PREPARED for Delaney to argue with him. She’d made it clear he shouldn’t have to leave the team because of this.
But he hadn’t expected the color to wash out of her cheeks before a fiery flush took over. If he didn’t know better, he would think she was furious. Her old man had invited him out to the house to hash through this today, but now Rick wondered if the team owner had set him up for a big fall. Certainly Dan Blair didn’t jump in to defend Rick even though the guy had been reasonable enough on the phone. He’d told Rick he was sure he’d do the right thing as far as this scandal was concerned.
From what Rick could tell, that meant removing himself from the equation to squash interest in those pictures and to protect Delaney. Once Rick left the team, there’d be no more lurid speculation about what happened. The media would be too busy dissecting how he fit into a new roster. As for Rick, he’d be busy figuring out how to put his heart back together.