Catching Zia (Spring Training Book 1) Page 3

“Yep. Thanks for calling. Nice to hear from you.”

  “It’s been too long. Let’s go out soon.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll call you in a few days.”

  Chapter Five

  Zia had one pencil stuck behind her ear and one in her hand when she suddenly realized she wasn’t alone. She spun around, yanking her earbuds out to face whoever was behind her.

  Monica.

  “So sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” She lifted her gaze to the wall and inched closer. “My God, you’re amazing. That’s so professional.”

  “Thank you. Glad you like it.”

  “Like it? I freaking love it.” She continued to stare. “My kid’s going to have the best nursery on the planet. Wait until my friends see this. I hope you have a lot of free weekends, because you’re going to be very busy.” She smiled warmly, meaning that in the best possible way.

  Zia flushed. “Thank you. I don’t know if it’s that great, but it’s what I love.” She’d been working all morning. Last night, she’d started sketching, and as soon as Monica saw it, she told her to keep going. She’d worked for hours Friday night, loving the way the sketch turned out. Today she was painting. It would take part of tomorrow to get it done, but she had to admit, it was one of her finest works. It felt so good to be getting her hands dirty again.

  “Trust me. It’s great. I’ll let you get back to work, but you need to stop and eat. I made you lunch.” Monica pointed to the plate of food on top of the dresser still sitting in the middle of the room. It wasn’t a piece of furniture that would probably remain in the room. In fact, it was situated haphazardly in the center as if ready to be moved.

  “That’s so sweet of you. You don’t have to feed me.”

  “Least I can do. It’s just a sandwich.” She waved Zia off and left her alone again.

  By seven o’clock that night, Zia was still wired, but she knew she should stop and finish tomorrow.

  She had paint all over her. Her T-shirt was covered in splotches. Her hair was a sticky mess on her neck. Long strands had escaped to annoy her cheeks for hours. She’d tucked the curls behind her ear so many times there was little doubt she had every color in the rainbow on her face.

  When she turned around with a handful of brushes that needed to be rinsed, she shrieked.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

  Brett.

  He held up both hands apologetically from where he stood in the doorframe. “You get so involved in your work that you don’t hear anything around you.”

  “You’re right. Hazard of the job. I get consumed, block everything else out.” She forced herself to smile. She’d worked hard to keep from thinking about Brett, but failed. He crept into the forefront of her mind several times a day. Thoughts of running her hands over his hard muscles made her weak in the knees.

  At night, she’d flipped onto her stomach and then her back so many times it was exercise in and of itself.

  Nothing removed Brett or his smile or his dimples or his body from her mind.

  He let his gaze roam slowly up her body until she shuddered under the intensity. Then he turned to face the mural. “There are no words. I mean, I knew you were talented, but… Lord, woman. Why are you working as a nanny?”

  “I like my job?” She stiffened at his question. The last thing she wanted was for him to insinuate she should be doing anything other than exactly what she was doing. Caring for two kids. Turning them into fantastic humans.

  He met her gaze again. “I didn’t mean to…” He sighed. “I have trouble with words around you.”

  Good. That makes two of us.

  He grabbed the doorframe with both hands and leaned in farther. “Are you done? Can I take you to dinner?”

  Whoa. That was loaded. And so fast.

  She took a second to compose her thoughts and then took the easy road, pointing at her body. “I’m a mess. I’m pretty sure people would look at you funny.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing a change of clothes can’t fix. I’m not high maintenance.”

  “Well, that’s a relief, because if you wanted to go to dinner with me in this lifetime, you’d have to be happy with low maintenance. I’m pretty much like this all the time.”

  “Good.” He smiled. “So we agree. Dinner. How much time do you need? Can I follow you to your place to change?”

  She laughed. “Persistent, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  She cocked a hip out, still holding the brushes in one hand and a paper towel in the other. “Okay, Mr. Tenacious. I can’t imagine why you want to go out with me, but I’ll take you up on it. However, I need more than a change of clothes. I do have some cleanliness standards. A shower is on that list. If you don’t mind waiting…”

  “Perfect. And don’t sell yourself short. Why the hell wouldn’t I want to go out with you?” He spun around and headed down the hall. “Coming?”

  * * *

  Brett was in over his head. Out of his league.

  It was ironic that Zia thought she was the one dating “up” as she seemed to assume. What she didn’t realize was the women he dated usually didn’t have brain cells filling the space between their ears. It was a breath of fresh air to speak to a woman who wasn’t after his money and didn’t put on airs.

  She didn’t seem to know he even had money. He hadn’t given her his last name yet, though surely Monica had. On the flip side, knowing his name might not help. He wasn’t so egotistical as to think everyone recognized him by name or sight. It was possible the woman didn’t even like baseball. It would be a bummer, but it wasn’t everyone’s sport.

  For the time being, he simply wanted to have dinner with a gorgeous, intelligent, sexy brunette who didn’t know who he was, what he did, or how much he made doing it.

  Relief. He could cross that bridge later. Much later. If all went well.

  He wandered around her small living room while she showered.

  His cock was stiff just thinking about her standing one wall away, naked and wet. But he mentally explained to his small head for the hundredth time that tonight was about getting to know her, not sex.

  She was quick. No woman he’d ever met, including his sister, was that fast. In under thirty minutes, she emerged. And took his breath away.

  He leaned against the back of her couch to keep himself upright. “Zia. Just…wow.”

  “What?” She glanced down and then touched her face. “Did I miss some paint?”

  “No. God no. You look fantastic.”

  She furrowed her brow. “You need glasses. All I did was shower. I told you I’m low-maintenance. I meant it.”

  She did way more than shower. There was no way he would believe she’d transformed that much in that short of time if he hadn’t seen it. Not that she wasn’t gorgeous before they arrived. She was. He’d thought so every time he’d set eyes on her. And that total now numbered six. He was counting.

  Her thick hair was blow-dried and hanging in long waves down her back. He’d never seen it down. He hadn’t realized it was that long.

  Her dark brown eyes were accentuated with a touch of mascara, he thought. Her lips had an equally modest lip gloss. That was probably all the makeup she wore. And she didn’t need anything else.

  The best part, however, was her sundress. Pale pink. Fitted. The skirt was full and landed barely long enough to be decent. The bodice hugged her chest to the point that he had to force himself to lift his gaze from her ample breasts.

  On her dainty, adorable feet were flat, strappy sandals in the same shade of pink as the dress. She had her hands behind her back, probably locked there to keep from fidgeting. Because everything about her told him she was uncomfortable with compliments and even with her chosen outfit. In fact, she looked as if she might bolt back to the bedroom and change into something she found more comfortable—like jeans.

  But he was glad she’d worn the dress. It told him she cared, and she wanted to go out with him.

  Thank God.
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  He pushed off the back of the couch, suddenly unwilling to leave her apartment until he tasted her. Slowly, he ambled toward her, giving her plenty of time to retreat or speak.

  She did neither. Instead, she licked her lips.

  Which was his undoing.

  She even held her head tipped back to meet his gaze as he stepped into her personal space.

  Like he did the other day, he cupped her face, but this time he used his thumb to angle her chin up higher. He lowered his lips toward her, carefully reading her gaze.

  Her eyes were dilated.

  Fantastic.

  He didn’t break eye contact as he touched his mouth to hers. A feather’s touch. Hardly a kiss. Barely noticeable.

  But she kissed him back. And then she stuck her tongue tentatively out to lick her lips again, managing to lick his in the process.

  He moaned, unable to stop himself as he closed the distance so he could really kiss her. Angling his head to one side, he slid his tongue into her mouth and got his first taste of heaven.

  Divine.

  She was hesitant, but she didn’t pull back. She let him in, and then she dueled with him. When her hands landed on his waist, he knew he’d made the right decision.

  Kissing her before dinner had been a gamble, but it also had been slightly out of his control. Like a magnet, she pulled him to her.

  Her fingers dug into his abs as she slid her sweet hands to his belly. He could feel the heat through his carefully chosen shirt. The one he’d put on and taken off three times that afternoon, before finally settling on the pale blue, button-down that hung casually untucked over his best jeans. He wore loafers too.

  All this in the hopes Zia would still be at his sister’s and willing to go out with him.

  Blessed angels.

  Finally, he broke the kiss, setting his forehead against hers. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Uh. Okay. Uh. Wow,” she murmured.

  He grinned. “Dinner?”

  She smiled back. “Good plan. It’s kinda hot in here.”

  It was hot all right. Smoldering. But not from lack of air conditioning. There was nothing wrong with her unit.

  Threading his fingers with hers, he led her silently from the apartment.

  As they stepped outside, an elderly man with a cane was exiting the unit next to Zia’s. He lifted his gaze and smiled, glancing back and forth between Zia and Brett. For a moment, Brett’s heart stopped. Did the man recognize him?

  Brett quickly realized that wasn’t the case at all. He was simply a kind neighbor. Zia let go of Brett’s hand and rushed over toward the man. “Mr. McCarthy, I’m so sorry. I’m out of my routine today. I never grabbed your mail. Let me get it really fast.”

  Brett watched as she jogged toward a row of boxes next to the street and returned a moment later with a small pile of mail, handing it to the older gentleman.

  “You’re such a sweet girl. Thank you, dear. You two have a great evening.” Mr. McCarthy winked at Brett and then turned around and went back inside. If he recognized Brett, he didn’t say a word.

  “Sorry about that. It’s dark. I didn’t want him to trip over the cracks in the sidewalk trying to get his mail.” Zia was slightly breathless.

  Brett was totally enamored. His heart rate picked up speed as he cupped her face and then slid his hand down to grasp hers and lead her toward the car.

  He didn’t consider what her reaction would be to his sports car until she stopped a few feet short of the passenger door. “This is your car?”

  Shit. Please, God, let this slide. I just want to enjoy the evening. “Yep. I like cars.”

  “What is it?”

  Thank you, God. If she didn’t know what it was, she wouldn’t have any idea what it cost. “It’s just a sports car. Guy thing. Early midlife crisis.” He shrugged and opened the door of his baby. His BMW 6 series.

  She climbed in without another word.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as he rounded the hood and was glad she left that topic when he entered. “You like Italian?”

  “Sure. Who doesn’t like Italian?” She gave him another one of those genuine smiles that flipped his stomach over and left him tongue-tied.

  How had he fallen this hard, this fast for a sprite of a woman who was nothing like anyone he’d ever dated? His teammates were going to harass him mercilessly if he managed to keep her long enough to get through all that explaining and not scare her off.

  Please tell me she likes baseball…

  Baseball had been his life for as long as he could remember. He’d worked his tail off through the years he was too scrawny and small to keep up with kids his own age. He’d continued to work hard all through high school and college when it appeared he had some talent and finally got taller and bulked up.

  Now, he was living the dream. Three years in the minor leagues and six years in the majors. He considered himself one of the lucky ones. He’d never had an injury that caused him to miss a season. He was getting older. But he still had several years left in him.

  He’d also been lucky enough to get traded to Miami two years ago with a four-year contract. That had been a childhood dream. His family lived in Miami. Mom, Dad, Monica. Being closer to them when he played home games was icing on the cake.

  In the off-season, like now, he usually preferred to lay low. Many of the other guys took elaborate vacations to Europe and really took advantage of their time off.

  But Brett liked to go into hiding and stay out of the public eye.

  Not that he didn’t get recognized on occasion, but he worked hard to keep it simple.

  Thankfully, he’d also met two of his best friends since coming to Miami. Dominic Cordes and Xavier Monreal had both been brought up three years ago. Good guys. The best.

  “Okay, we’re off then.”

  He knew the owners of the restaurant where he was taking Zia. They would keep his identity to themselves and give him a private table. He’d called them while she was in the shower, told Angelo he was bringing a date, and asked him to keep it low-profile.

  They rode in comfortable silence, with him unable to stop thinking about the feel of her lips against his. Her hands on his waist. The soft sound she made without realizing it.

  He had no intention of sleeping with her this soon. It was their first date. He wanted to show her a good time, make her see he was a nice guy. Mauling her wasn’t in the cards. Not for weeks. He just needed to convince his dick to get on board with the plan.

  The way she crossed her legs, accentuating her gorgeous thighs, made him glance down and then quickly jerk his gaze away. His mouth was dry.

  When they pulled into the parking lot, he rounded the hood to open her door. Maybe that was a mistake since it was almost impossible for her to take his hand and let him help her out without giving him an amazing view high on her thighs.

  He gritted his teeth to keep from groaning. Then he led her into the restaurant, hoping he wasn’t shaking too badly.

  The owner happened to be up front as they entered. Brett prayed Angelo would do as he asked and not make a big deal out of knowing him.

  He got his wish. “Good evening, sir. Ma’am.” Angelo nodded at both of them. “Table for two?”

  Bless him.

  Within minutes, they were seated in a private corner booth. The lighting in the restaurant was dim, and not a single person seemed to recognize Brett as they made their way through the patrons.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as they slid into the booth. He didn’t like being less than upfront with Zia, but on the other hand, he really wanted to establish a connection with her that didn’t involve fame and fortune.

  Something genuine. Real. Something he could count on. Every second that passed in her presence reassured him further.

  He smiled at her as they picked up their menus. “You like wine?”

  She nodded. “Sometimes.”

  “The house red is fantastic here. Shall we get a bottle?”

  “Sounds good.”
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  When the waitress came by, she grinned at Brett for a split second and then sobered as she remembered to feign ignorance about his identity. “I’m Stella. I’ll be your waitress. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

  Again, funny, since she knew he loved the house red. “A bottle of your house red would be great. Thanks.”

  She soundlessly walked away, leaving Brett to return his attention to Zia. He knew the menu by heart, and he knew he would order the ravioli. But he enjoyed leaning on his elbows and watching Zia peruse the menu.

  Finally, she closed it and met his gaze.

  When he realized she was about to ask him a question, he cut her off. He wanted to know everything about her and hoped to accomplish this while giving her nearly nothing about himself. Just tonight. Just this once.

  For one evening. One date. One blissful meal. He wanted to be normal. Anonymous. Regular.

  “So, when you’re not creating masterpieces, you said you work as a nanny, right?”

  She lowered her shoulders. “Yeah. For a few more weeks. The girls are too old. But it’s also hard to leave them. They’re like family. I love all of them.”

  “That must be hard.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his as he held her gaze. Soft. Small. Dainty. Delicate. Her fingers curled into his perfectly. “Are you looking for a new family? Or are you going to go out on your own and try living as a starving artist?” He smiled hugely, hoping she realized he was tossing out the cliché as a joke.

  Her eyes narrowed, but she giggled. “Not sure yet. Tough decision.”

  “I guess you could always try and then switch if it doesn’t work out.”

  “True. But scary. And easier said than done. Gotta pay the rent somehow. Plus, I’ve been in a comfort zone for a long time. Most people would probably consider me a failure, the way I’ve held off starting a real career until almost thirty, but I enjoyed every minute of it. I got to go to college while the girls were at school, spend the mornings and afternoons with them, and then study or paint or whatever I wanted when they went to bed and I went back to my apartment. Win-win.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been really happy. Happiness means more than anything.” He meant that. She clearly loved the family she worked for. He admired that. She was passionate about both art and kids. Just like he was passionate about baseball.