The Truth About Tara Page 17

  Something about the story seemed off. “And the Carolina Stars’ doctor—he thinks you can come back from this and pitch again?”

  “That’s what I think,” Jack said. “The Stars cut me, too.”

  Tara had formed the impression that he had a job in baseball waiting for him once his rehabilitation was over. She couldn’t have been more wrong. “It sounds like a long shot.”

  “I’ve beaten the odds before,” he said. “I’ll do it again.”

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself,” she said.

  “I have to be,” he said. “Baseball’s my life.”

  “Oh, come on,” she said. “There’s more going on in your life than that. I know you work at the Lexington Sportsplex.”

  He shifted in his seat. “I fill time at the sportsplex between baseball seasons.”

  “Fill time doing what?” she asked. “It’s an indoor sports facility, right?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “It’s not a bad job. I do anything that needs doing, but mostly I help supervise the running of the indoor leagues.”

  “That sounds like fun,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind doing that.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather be playing volleyball?” he asked.

  “Are we back to that again?” She shrugged. “I’ve already told you. There’s more to life than playing sports.”

  “Tara!” Mark Ames, a guy she’d dated before he moved out of the area, appeared as if out of nowhere. He approached them with a giant grin on his face. “I knew stopping by the pub tonight was a good idea. You look more beautiful than ever.”

  Mark had always been effusive with his compliments, which was probably one of the reasons Tara had dated him. His good looks hadn’t hurt. He bore a vague resemblance to a young Brad Pitt.

  “Mark! What a surprise!” Tara said. “Are you visiting your parents?”

  “Haven’t you heard?” he asked. “I’m back for good. Dad’s getting up there in years, so I’m going into business with him.”

  Mark’s father owned a wholesale seafood business. Before Mark had moved to New York City to work for a friend’s sightseeing company, Mark had vowed never to work in the seafood business. Now wasn’t the time to bring that up, though. The two men were sizing each other up, like boxers before a fight.

  “Mark, this is Jack DiMarco,” Tara said. “Jack, Mark Ames.”

  Jack stuck out a hand first. “Nice to meet you.”

  Mark hesitated only slightly before taking it. “Likewise. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Tara is seeing somebody.”

  Tara waited for Jack to correct him. The pause lengthened until it became obvious he didn’t intend to.

  “What do you do, Jack?” Mark asked.

  “I’m a pro baseball player,” Jack said.

  Mark screwed up his forehead. “I didn’t know the Eastern Shore had a pro team.”

  “It doesn’t,” Tara cut in. “Jack last played for the Carolina Stars. He’s here rehabbing his pitching shoulder.”

  “So you’re a tourist.” Mark sounded pleased by his conclusion. “How long will you be here, Jack?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Jack said.

  “Not long, then,” Mark said, nodding slowly. “Good to know.”

  Mark’s comments were getting weirder by the second. Although they’d had some good times, things had never been serious between Tara and Mark. When he moved away, she’d been only mildly disappointed.

  “How about you, Mark?” Tara asked. “Is this a temporary move? Or will you settle down here?”

  “I’m staying. I’ll give you a call sometime. We can get together so I can tell you all about it.” He gestured in the direction of the bar. “I’m here with a friend, so I should go. Catch up with you later.”

  Mark nodded at Jack, who returned the gesture. Jack watched the other man leave before bringing his attention back to her.

  “Old boyfriend?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t call him a boyfriend exactly but we did go out a few times before he moved to New York City,” she said. “A friend of his owns a boat tour company and asked Mark to be one of his boat captains. He must have gotten tired of it.”

  Jack twisted his beer mug left and right and watched the amber liquid slosh before raising his eyes. “Should I be worried about him?”

  She could pretend not to know what he was talking about. Now that she’d verified she wasn’t Hayley Cooper, however, there wasn’t any need.

  She kept her eyes trained on his and shook her head. “No.”

  “You want to get out of here?” he asked.

  She didn’t think about it. She just nodded.

  He took a swallow of his beer, removed his wallet from his back pocket and slapped some money on the table.

  A few people window-shopped along the street outside the pub and a noisy group of tourists was leaving a nearby restaurant, typical activity for a Monday night in summer. Since Jack had left his truck at the fitness club, she’d driven them from the beach to the Cape Charles business district. Her car was parked between two others under a street light.

  Jack didn’t touch her as they crossed the road, yet she’d never been more aware of him. The tourists were laughing and talking in loud voices, yet she could hear Jack’s every breath and sensed the power of his lean, athletic body as he moved.

  Her breaths were coming too fast and her palms growing damp. What exactly had she committed herself to inside the pub by admitting she preferred Jack to Mark Ames? Was Jack expecting her to come to his place or to invite him to hers?

  Each step she took closer to the car, it grew harder to breathe. Last night after verifying she wasn’t Hayley, she’d all but decided to have a fling with Jack. Now she wasn’t sure she could go through with it. She’d always been conservative where sex was concerned. She liked to take her time getting to know a man before going to bed with him. She and Jack hadn’t even been on an official date.

  “Everything okay?” His voice broke into her toughts. “You seem nervous.”

  It seemed pointless to deny it. “I am.”

  “You don’t need to be,” he said. They reached the driver’s

  side of her car. She turned to face him, and he cupped her cheek. The moonlight softened his features. Her gaze went to his lips, and she remembered what they’d tasted like. Maybe she could throw caution to the wind and indulge herself, after all.

  She waited patiently for him to give her one of the standard lines used by guys who were trying to get laid.

  I’ll be gentle with you.

  You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.

  You can trust me.

  “I can wait until you’re ready, no matter how long it takes,” he said.

  Had she heard him right?

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “Like I told you before, I won’t pressure you,” he said. “Until you’re sure, nothing’s going to happen between us.”

  She frowned. “Nothing at all?”

  He laughed and dipped his head, capturing her lips with a swiftness that made her head spin. Her lips clung to his as his mouth moved over hers. She wound her arms around his neck, bringing him closer, opening her mouth in invitation. The kiss went from G-rated to scorching hot in mere seconds.

  Suddenly it occurred to her that they were in full view of the noisy tourists and any car that passed by.

  She pulled back at the same moment he did, bringing an abrupt end to what had been an amazing kiss.

  “Wow,” he said.

  She wet her lips and cleared her throat. “Are you still okay with taking it slowly?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t even pause to think about it. “It’s enough right now to know I’m the only man in your life.”

  “Really?” She wasn’t sure why she kept pressing him. Yes, you are, a little voice inside her head whispered. You want him to persuade you.

  “Really.” He gave her a swift kiss on the lips and pulled back almost before it had begun. “Be c
areful driving home. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon at camp.”

  With a smile that looked wistful, he turned and walked in the direction of the fitness club where his car was parked. She stood watching him for long moments, not sure how she managed to resist the overwhelming urge to call him back.

  Once she was inside the car, she sat behind the wheel, her head falling back against the cushioned headrest. Her heart was still beating too fast.

  Had she really by her silence just said no to a man who’d made it a point not to capitalize on her weakness for him? A man like that came around very seldom, if at all.

  She jolted herself out of her stupor and fished in her handbag for her keys. A noise startled her. The ring tone of a cell phone, she realized, but not her phone.

  On the passenger seat beside her, the display of a dark-colored phone lit up. Probably Jack’s. He’d ridden with her from the beach to the pub. The phone must have fallen out of his pocket.

  She picked it up and looked at the name on the display. Maria, it read. Jack’s sister, the private investigator who was looking into the Hayley Cooper case.

  The phone stopped ringing, no doubt because the caller had been directed to voice mail. Jack’s sister would have to wait until tomorrow when Tara returned his cell for Jack to call back.

  Tara tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and inserted the keys in the ignition. Before she started the car, Jack’s cell phone flashed the message that he had three new voice mails. Were they all from Maria? Maybe there was a family emergency and Jack’s sister needed to talk to him right away. The cell phone would be the only means she had of reaching him.

  Tara pulled out of the parking spot and turned down the street where the fitness club was located, hoping to see Jack’s white pickup. It wasn’t there.

  She pulled over to the curb, leaving her engine idling while she thought. If Jack’s sister had urgent news, it possibly couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Then again, hadn’t Jack said his sisters called all the time?

  Tara dug through her purse until she found the piece of paper where Jack had written down his address. Now she had the option of driving to his beach house tonight and giving him the cell phone.

  Of course, if there was no family emergency, maybe she and Jack would do something about their attraction for each other.

  Tara put the car in gear and drove, not only unsure of what to do, but of her motivation. She was still trying to decide as she approached the fork in the road that led to Shell Beach.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JACK LEANED BACK ON THE recliner in the living room of his beach house, letting the ice do its magic on his shoulder.

  His first move when he got back to the house had been to strip off his shirt en route to the freezer. He kept special inserts there that fit under his cold therapy wrap. Compression straps kept the wrap in place, enabling him to remain mobile.

  Tonight he needed ice for more than his injury. The drive from Cape Charles had taken a good twenty minutes or so and his body still hadn’t cooled down from that kiss.

  Before he started second-guessing himself for passing up yet another chance to make love to Tara, he picked up the TV remote and switched on a television sports channel.

  The Cincinnati Kings were playing the Carolina Stars, the two organizations that had given up on him.

  The camera panned in for a close-up of the Stars pitcher, a baby-faced kid Jack didn’t recognize. The pitcher appeared to be in his early twenties. If things had gone differently for Jack, he would have made it to the majors at about that age and stuck.

  The young pitcher stared down the batter, nodded at the catcher’s signal, reared back and let the ball fly.

  In time with the pitcher’s release, Jack’s shoulder gave a sharp twinge. It hurt a little more, though, to watch the batter swing and miss.

  Not so long ago, Jack was throwing pitches like that.

  He clicked a button on the remote and the television screen went dark. He picked up an issue of Sports Illustrated from the side table. The cover story was about the strides the Carolina Stars had made since joining the league as an expansion team.

  About ten paragraphs into the story, a quote from the general manager jumped out at him. “Thanks to our excellent scouting system, we identified players we’ve been able to develop into solid major leaguers.”

  Jack had been one of those players before he got hurt.

  A rapping sounded on the front door. Glad for the interruption, he set down the magazine and got out of the recliner. He didn’t have a clue who it could be. In the short time since he’d rented the beach house, this was his first visitor.

  He pulled open the door.

  Tara stared at him, her eyes huge in her pale face, her lips parted as though asking to be kissed. She’d shed the jacket she wore in the pub and was dressed as she’d been when she played volleyball, in short shorts and a sleeveless top that hugged her breasts. As in the pub, her hair was loose around her shoulders. His body reheated despite the cool from the ice wrap.

  “I sure am glad you’re exercising your prerogative to change your mind,” he said.

  He put out his left hand, inviting her to take it so he could pull her inside. She placed something small and hard in his palm. His cell phone.

  “You left this in my car,” she said. “I thought you might need it. Your sister’s called twice since I noticed it.”

  He felt as if she’d thrown a bucket of ice water in his face. “Annalise?” he asked.

  “Maria,” she said. “Her name came up on your screen.”

  “Come on in.” He stepped back to make room for her as he checked the phone, noticing how she hesitated before crossing the threshold and pushing the door shut behind her. He dragged his gaze from her and focused on the phone.

  “There are some texts, too.” Jack clicked through to his messages and read the ones from Maria. He sighed aloud. “She wants to know if I’m okay.”

  “That’s it?” Tara asked like a rational person who understood too much checking up bordered on paranoia. Too bad his sisters didn’t share that mind-set.

  “That’s it. When I didn’t answer her text, she called a few times. When I didn’t answer the calls, she texted again.” He held up a finger. “Please excuse me a moment.”

  With his right arm hampered by the wrap, he used his left hand to both hold the phone and type in the text. Im foine? Tslk tomorrow, it read. Maria would have to deal with the typos. He hit the send button.

  “That should satisfy her for tonight.” Jack was pretty sure Maria would understand that he’d call her in the morning. At least he’d spelled tomorrow right.

  “You weren’t exaggerating when you said your sisters call all the time, were you?” Tara asked.

  “Nope. Not at all.”

  “Then I’m glad they can’t see you now,” she said. “That thing on your shoulder looks kind of worrisome.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “Just a way to promote healing. I was getting ready to take it off when you knocked on the door.”

  He pulled apart the Velcro compression straps, resulting in a distinctive ripping noise. He shrugged out of the wrap, noticing that Tara’s brown eyes had gone wide. She was gaping at his bare chest.

  “I take off my shirt when I put on the wrap,” he explained. “I can feel the ice working better against my bare skin.”

  “You don’t have any scars.” She took a step toward him and he picked out a light, floral scent. Even after playing volleyball, she smelled great. “Just a couple faded marks.”

  “From the small incisions the doctor made for the arthroscopic surgeries,” he said.

  “Did the surgeries hurt?”

  “Surprisingly, they weren’t too bad,” he said. “Rehab hurts like a bitch, though.”

  She reached forward with her right hand and lightly trailed her fingers over the barely visible wounds. He sucked in a breath, afraid to act on her signals in case he was misinterpreting them.

  “I h
ave a confession to make,” she said in a soft, breathy voice. “I was pretty sure your sister didn’t need to talk to you tonight.”

  Her lips replaced her fingertips on his shoulder, planting soft kisses at the site of his surgeries. She raised her eyes to his. “The phone was an excuse for me to do what you said when I got here.”

  “What did I say?” He barely got the question past the thickness in his throat. His short-term memory seemed to be malfunctioning.

  “That I was exercising my prerogative to change my mind.” She traced his lips with her fingertips. “I’m sure now, Jack.”

  Good things come to those who wait, he thought. He didn’t dare say it aloud. He didn’t dare say anything for fear she might change her mind again.

  That, he didn’t think he’d survive.

  Her lips grazed his. “Aren’t you going to show me where the bedroom is?” she asked, her breath warm and sweet against his mouth.

  He almost laughed. The beach house consisted of a combination kitchen/living room, bathroom and single bedroom.

  “It’s behind door number one.” He reached for her and led her there, pushing open the partially cracked door with his foot, telling himself not to rush things. With Tara, he wanted to stretch out his time. “The view from the bedroom is the reason I picked this place.”

  Through the open blinds the moon reflected off the sand and the gently rippling water of the bay.

  On most nights, Jack kept the lights in the bedroom off in order to see the water of the bay through the open blinds. He let go of Tara’s hand, crossed the room and pulled the blinds shut, plunging the room into darkness.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked.

  He switched on his bedside lamp and rejoined her at the foot of the bed. “I’d rather look at you than the view.”

  Her lips parted and she shook her head. “There you go again.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Why do you think I’m here?” she asked.

  He shook his head, still not understanding.

  “When you say things like that,” she said, “I can’t resist you.”

  “Let’s find out if I can do some other things you won’t be able to resist.” He grinned and pulled her against him. Even her height was a turn-on. Her mouth was just inches below his, waiting for his kiss.