“No, and I’m kind of relieved. I wasn’t feeling him, and spending time with my girl is more fun. Hey, I have a great idea—why don’t you surprise your hubby? Pretend you’re staying home and then show up at the party looking like your sexy self. He’ll freak.”
Her friend’s face lit up. “Really? Oh, that would be fun. I have the perfect dress in mind.”
“Good. What time do you need me there?”
“Six thirty. Are you sure it’s okay?”
Tessa gave her a look. “Yes. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”
“Thanks, Tessa. You’re the best.”
She preened. “I know. Best godmother ever.”
A fry hit her mouth and made her gasp in astonishment. Malia burst into giggles.
“You threw food at me! I’m telling Mike!”
“Remember when you told me to let you know when you were being too egotistical?” Malia asked, her lips twitching.
“No!”
“Oh, well, I decided it would be a good lesson for you.”
Chiara joined in on the laughter, and Tessa shook her head.
Worst friends ever.
It was a good thing she loved them.
Chapter Two
Ford Maddox stripped off his headphones and settled back in his battered leather chair. Raising a hand to Isaac, his production manager, he grinned as the replay of his morning show flickered in his mind.
With baseball tucked away until spring, he was focused on the wheeling and dealing within MLB and who the Yankees and Mets would be able to recruit. And keep. And get rid of. It was always an exciting time full of gambles, big talk, and lies, and Ford embraced the hit of adrenaline from spending the past few hours talking about his favorite thing in the world.
Sports.
Hell, ever since he’d held a ball in his hands, he’d realized it pulsed with a magical force. The way a person pitched, hit, caught, and handled a ball could be life-changing. Thank God his parents hadn’t questioned his obsession—just bought him basketballs, soccer balls, footballs, and baseballs, and he played every sport that was in season.
It was a good thing he had a good voice, because Ford learned early on he wasn’t going to be a professional player in any sport. He was a bit too awkward, his gait slightly imbalanced as if his center of gravity was off. Mom would tell him when he carried a plate, it was always tilted to the side, though he swore it was dead center.
None of it mattered. He’d discovered his niche and passion and never regretted he was the one watching and analyzing the plays rather than executing them. Being a well-known, respected sportscaster on one of the hottest XM stations gave him a jolt more intense than drugs, candy, or women.
Well, most women. Unfortunately, he hadn’t met a woman he’d drop a game for, and he’d been looking a damn long time. Hell, he was open to all of it if she were the one.
On cue, his head swiveled around, and he caught sight of her walking past his booth. Long legs. Shiny, straight honey-brown hair that begged for a man’s fingers. A body so hot his sweat glands acted like he’d eaten a habanero pepper. Those sexy black-rimmed glasses she wore when her contacts bothered her only added to her appeal.
As if she sensed his intense stare, Patricia Mann met Ford’s gaze and gave him a warm smile.
He smiled back, waving, and leaned too far back in his chair. It made a groaning sound, then wobbled, and he crashed to the floor.
Fuck.
Ford prayed she missed the scene and would keep walking, but it was too much to ask. The door flung open, and she was standing over him, shock reflected in those gorgeous gray-violet eyes that reminded him of America the Beautiful and purple mountain majesties.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” she asked, reaching out to help him.
He sprang up as fast as possible and forced a boisterous laugh. “I’m fine! Sorry to scare you, but I had to do something drastic to get a new chair. Gage said there wasn’t enough money in the budget.”
Patricia studied him as if to be sure he wasn’t hurt, then relaxed. Humor laced her words. “If he gives you a hard time, let me know. I’ll make sure supply approves it ASAP.”
His heart twinged. She was beyond cool. She was nice. “Thanks. Off to a meeting?”
She shook her hair and the glossy strands lifted, then settled over her trim shoulders. Today, she wore a soft-pinkish jacket that made her complexion look all pretty and blush-like. A silky T-shirt was tucked into slim black pants that skimmed her body like a gift. What he wouldn’t give to be able to open such a package. To have her look at him with heat and want. To have her lips open under his. To—
“Yeah, I’m slammed. Better get going. Glad you’re not hurt—we wouldn’t last around here without you, Ford. You’re the funniest guy I know.” She walked out, hips swinging, leaving the scent of earthy florals that smelled of all the good things in the world.
Mostly sex.
His words fell flat in the silence of the room. “Sure. Bye. I love you.” Feeling pathetic, he righted the damn chair and slumped back in it.
Patricia was a rising star in the sales department for booking advertisements and helped out with promotions at KTUZ. Men, women, it didn’t matter—everyone loved her.
He tried asking her out once, but she’d smoothly sidestepped the invite and told him how important his friendship was. He’d been too embarrassed to try again, so for two years, he’d lusted and dreamed of Patricia finally realizing he was more than a funny work buddy. She’d dated a few coworkers, but the short-term relationships all ended quickly and amicably. It was a testament to her personality and work ethic that there’d never been any messy breakups or bad words exchanged.
For the past few months, she’d been hooked up with a fancy CEO type who was her client, but the gossip mill said there was trouble in paradise. Ford would have loved to step in and fill the void, but with every encounter, he got no closer to breaking the friend barrier.
It was time to give up. Someone of her caliber just wasn’t meant for him. Since grade school, he’d been zapped with a gift that most men never received . . . or would want: he never did the right thing with women. Whether he uttered the wrong statement or made the wrong move, it was in his DNA to screw up his love life. Somewhere along the way, fate had cursed him, and he was still desperately trying to reverse it.
Scratching his head, he tried to regain his focus and go back to work. He had a packed day and needed to work on building some of his new contacts with minor league players who might get called up to the big show. The better he knew them, the better his analysis could get, since a personal relationship trumped all others. He’d learned from watching and listening to the very best—Ron Darling, Keith Hernandez, Scott Braun, Joe Buck, and of course, Len Kasper. Success was much more than knowing the game. Listeners and sports fans needed to hear the passion; needed to know there was a respect for the game and the players no matter who he was praising or tearing up. It was the heart of his success, and Ford never let himself forget it.
If only Patricia could see it. He’d have no trouble turning all that heat burning inside him from the game straight to her. Frustration flicked at his nerve endings. When was the last time a woman he’d been interested in had given him a decent chance? It was like he wore a T-shirt that said TRANSITIONAL MAN, because women flocked to him to get over broken hearts or get revenge on their exes. He was never chosen as the forever guy.