Intercepted by Love: Part 2 (Playing the Field #2) (12 page)

R
achelle Ayala is
a bestselling author of dramatic romantic suspense and humorous, sexy contemporary romances. Her heroines are feisty and her heroes hot. She writes emotionally challenging stories but believes in the power of love and hope.

Rachelle is the founder of an online writing group, Romance in a Month, an active member of the California Writer's Club, Fremont Chapter, and a volunteer for the World Literary Cafe. She has won awards in multicultural and historical romance.

Check out her website at
http://rachelleayala.me
and visit her Amazon Author Page
http://www.amazon.com/Rachelle-Ayala/e/B007DXL5WY

Contact Rachelle

• @AyalaRachelle
  
• RachelleAyalaWriter
  

I
ntercepted
by Love
was designed from the start to be a serial in three parts. I had a lot of fun preparing the cliffhanger and structuring the story this way. Of course, my beta readers and fellow writers in my Romance In A Month writer’s group helped me with early feedback and comments to hone this story for the hopefully surprising cliffhangers.

Many thanks to: Lillian Maddocks-Cummings, Terri Merkel, Racquel Reck, Amber McCallister, Keli Morgan, Rebecca Austin, Tope Awefoso, Linda Scarchuk, and Debbie Rosa for their awesome feedback as well as guidance while I was writing Cade and Andie’s stories. Their comments and remarks helped me know whether I was hitting the right note or not.

Thanks also my high school football team who instilled in me a great love and respect for athletes. We were the Banning Pilots, All City Champions, and I’m proud to have been one of the team managers and friends with the wonderful guys on our team.

I will especially miss my friends, Joe Montijo (#10), Leroy Irvin (#23), and Ronnie Settles (#37), who have passed on way too early. This story is dedicated to them, although all characters and events inside are purely fictional. Thanks guys for being the heroes we looked up to, and being humble and down to earth. Go Pilots!

A baseball romance,
Playing Without Rules
, from bestselling romance author, Rachelle Ayala.

Playing Without Rules
– Excerpt

Copyright 2015 © Rachelle Ayala

Description

A
ballplayer’s
girlfriend hides his daughter from him because she fears he’s like his abusive father.

Marcia Powers wants nothing to do with ballplayer Brock Carter, especially after she told him to go away and pursue his dreams. She has more than she can handle with an elderly father, a business to run, and a four-year-old daughter posing as her baby sister.

Brock Carter’s back in town to rekindle his romance with Marcia, and this time, he’s not letting her run him out of town. Marcia is unable to resist Brock, but determined to keep her secret.

Brock’s already lost his heart to Marcia once. Will he lose every dream, including baseball, when he discovers the real reason Marcia sent him away?

“The thing about ballplayers is they’re players.” Marcia Powers twisted the stem of a maraschino cherry around the tip of her tongue and eyed the swaggering baseball players descending on her bar, The Hot Corner, in metropolitan Phoenix.

“You should be thankful for spring training.” Her business partner and best girlfriend, Jeanine Jewell, adjusted her stance at the counter to best position her bounteous breasts. “Keeps the tab rolling and the money flowing.”

“Not to mention the groupie traffic.” Marcia sniffed, but cleared her face in time to smile and take orders from the men in business suits idling at the bar. Their attention was split between the ballplayers and the women. Probably scouts sizing up players for pre-season trades.

The traffic was definitely good for business and made up for the dry times. Phoenix was the spring training home to fifteen off-season baseball teams. It hadn’t always been this way, but the dry spring weather and lower real estate costs than California made Arizona attractive enough to draw the franchises as well as provide affordable games for locals and tourists alike.

Marcia passed a tray of girlie cocktails to Jeanine who sashayed past the businessmen to the booth bubbling over with blondes and booze. Jeanine, ever the flirt, bent low in front of the players’ roving eyes. Leers from the men and sneers from the babes followed in her wake.

Jeanine would have her fill until the ballplayers moved back to their major league cities, collecting one-night stands like baseball cards. Somehow, she was impervious to being hurt. From the moment the umpire yelled, “Play Ball!” in the opening game to the closing fireworks show signifying the end of spring training, Jeanine played: infielders, outfielders, pitch and catch with an occasional trainer or coach thrown in for good measure.

“So, who’s in your field of dreams?” A deep, throaty voice drawled so close to Marcia’s ear she almost dropped the whiskey tumbler she was polishing.

Her breath hitched as she jerked around in time to see Brock Carter’s leer dissolve into a grin. “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me?”

“Ordering a drink, and it’s good to see you again.”

It definitely wasn’t good seeing him—a troublemaker and heartbreaker—especially since the heart he’d trampled on was, at this moment, beating to break out of her ribcage like an excited puppy leaping for a doggie treat.

“I thought you were traded to the minors, what was that team again?” Marcia hoped her voice wouldn’t give away the urge she had to leap over the bar counter and either punch him in the balls or sock him one in the kisser—ruin his action for any other female stupid enough to be sucked in by those misty green bedroom eyes and smooth downhome Southern drawl.

“Minor setback.” He cracked his knuckles and licked his lips. “But I’m back in a big way, and somehow I knew I’d catch you right here, where it all started.”

Arrogant dick. As if he’d known she’d never leave town, never live the dreams she had years ago before her father’s retirement required her to take over the bar, never have the ideal family she’d pictured with a husband manning the BBQ and children playing in the pool.

“Order your drink and get it over with.” She didn’t want to be rude to customers, but Brock Carter was in a different league altogether. He’d certainly filled in since he left town years ago. Sandy-colored hair poked from under his baseball cap. His freckled face was more rugged, sporting a manly cleft while his muscles strained solid under his practice jersey.

Brock shifted his weight, still leaning over the counter, his forearms flexing. “Buy you a screaming orgasm.”

Marcia swallowed as unbidden images of just how hard she and Brock had strained over and under and around the sheets threatened to undermine her outward calm.

She desperately scanned the tables for Jeanine. Her friend would put Brock in his place—give him a polite nod before shooing him off. She knew what damage Brock had done and why Marcia could not ever let him know her secret.

“I take that as a ‘yes.’” Brock pinched her elbow.

Marcia jerked away from the counter as if she’d touched an electric fence. “Take your screaming whatever and drink it yourself. I’m working.”

His bushy eyebrows lowered, Brock’s chin took that stubborn set she knew only too well. “What’s with you, Marsh? I would have thought five years was enough for you to get over whatever snit you had against me.”

“I’ve nothing against you.” Marcia sidled around the counter to the beer taps. She wasn’t the type to hold a guy from his dreams. Since they didn’t involve her and the situation she found herself in, good riddance. She’d do it all herself, and she had.

Marcia made eye contact with the businessmen, who obliged by ordering another round of drinks, especially since a couple of groupies had moved from the players to the suits.

All the while, Brock remained a large, hulking shadow looming under the restroom signs. Out of the corner of her eye, Marcia saw Jeanine serve him a longneck. Minutes ticked by, but he stayed in his spot, solitary, unresponsive to any female or male brave enough to invade his territory.

Jeanine swung behind the counter and nudged her. “What’s he doing here?”

“Can’t you get rid of him?”

“Tried already.” Jeanine tugged at her bra strap. “He looks pissed. Do you think?”

A shot of panic pumped up Marcia’s pulse. Could he have found out her secret?

“He can’t know,” Marcia said.

“Why not?” Jeanine’s eyebrow quirked, and she put a hand on her hip. “Isn’t it about time you let him in on it?”

“He’ll only hurt her.”

“Maybe not. A girl needs a daddy, and your father’s too old to be a real one for her.”

Marcia closed her eyes, breathing in and out, all too aware of the heated gaze burning into her back. “Just so you remember: Bianca is my little sister. My father is her father. I’m her aunt.”

“So you say.” Jeanine glanced at Brock who lifted his empty bottle. “Looks like he’s not leaving until closing time. Let me find out what he’s been up to.”

“Go ahead and play him.” Marcia huffed. “I don’t mind.”

Jeanine primped her hair and tucked a pencil over her ear. “Game’s wide open. I’m onto it.”