Chapter Two

Sawyer clenched his hands and forced himself not to take his frustration and fatigue out on the adorable freaking woman driving him. What the hell kind of setup was this? She looked all cute and sweet and sexy as hell in her black skirt and crisp white dress shirt covered by a suit jacket. He was used to women who exuded sex appeal because it was clearly their goal. This one did it without even trying. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that made his breath and heart hitch at the same time when he’d locked eyes on her. He’d learned the hard way to check his emotions, expectations, and reactions in public. It took more than a gorgeous woman who flustered easily to break through his iron shield.

She kept shooting him nervous glances, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Drawing his attention to it. Damn. He didn’t need to antagonize her, especially if he didn’t want her to get anywhere near the truth. What the hell was wellness management? Seeing as he’d just spent the weekend touching base with an old friend who happened to be in sports medicine, Sawyer could take care of his own wellness. Without the prying eyes of the team doctors or any of the management.

So what could this woman possibly want from him? He knew better than to delve too deep into that thought. The favors people had requested of him over the years were indescribable. And not just strangers. No. Mostly his family. He shook off the irritation thinking of his family brought on. His mother had auto-dialed him all weekend, driving him crazier than usual, nagging him about a party she wanted to throw. On his dime.

“Please say something,” Addie said, her voice almost timid. It didn’t seem to suit her personality.

People asking him for favors was as commonplace as breathing for him, so it shouldn’t bother him so much that this woman would do the same. He ran his hands through his hair, disappointment, frustration, and anger roiling around in his gut. If she worked for the Slammers and knew where he’d been over the last few days, she might plan to hold it over his head.

“What would you like me to say? You’ve asked for a favor but won’t tell me what it is. Am I supposed to agree to it blindly? All I want is to go home.” His knee had started throbbing about two hours ago, and he needed to ice it after swallowing down a few ibuprofen.

She took a deep breath, and the one she exhaled was shuddery. “Okay.”

Twisting his body, he stared at her. He hated games. Except for baseball, which was his life. When he was crouched behind home plate, everything else went away. “Okay? Okay, what? You have some major favor worth kidnapping me for but you’re willing to put it aside and drive me home?”

She winced. He needed to watch his tone. It felt like he couldn’t say anything to anyone without it being twisted and turned against him. The last woman he’d had longer than a five-minute conversation with had somehow misinterpreted him offering her a couple of tickets as wanting to sleep with her. Which she not only told to TMZ but to her husband, who took a swing at him when he was heading to his car one night. Sawyer hated the curiosity swirling in his gut. He didn’t need to be intrigued by this woman who, in a short car ride, had shown multiple sides of herself: confident, sexy, professional, insecure. Which one was real?

Her eyes locked on his and his chest tightened. She had gorgeous eyes. Vivid blue. Almost so bright it was tough to look at them but impossible to look away. But it had been a long time since he’d let a pair of eyes, or any other part of a woman, sway him. He was older and wiser. Supposedly.

“I’ll take you home if, after I tell you my favor, you ask me to,” she said. The spunk and enthusiasm had gone out of her voice.

Going for nonchalant, he rested a hand on the dash and gave her the same look he gave reporters who asked stupid questions. It looks like your knee was impacting your play tonight. Do you feel the pressure to perform every night or is it okay to be off, like you were? Will you be able to play if the Slammers finally make it to the playoffs? How will it feel if you miss out on something the team has been working toward for years? At your age, how does an injury impact your position?

He rolled his shoulders, the back of his neck prickling. “Get to it.”

His skin crawled with nerves over what she might ask. A woman once waited for him at his car, shirtless, asking him to sign her breasts. Hard no. Another had followed him home and asked to be invited in. Another pass. When he went to bars with the team, not that he did often, women tossed themselves at him. At twenty-two, that had been amazing. Ten years later, it was wearing thin. Especially when every damn time he turned around, a new story was being spun about him.

He sighed. “Tell me your favor.”

“There is an annual MS charity event tonight. I had someone else lined up. A celebrity who owed one of the Slammers players a favor. He backed out at the last minute. I thought I could ask one of the other guys, but they’re not back until late tonight. Too late.” She took a breath.

Curling his fingers into fists on his lap, he stared at her, waiting for the other shoe. “Multiple sclerosis?”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s an autoimmune disease that attacks the protective barrier of our nerves.”

Obviously, he’d heard of it. “I know what it is. You still haven’t asked me anything.” What was he missing? Other than that he was her second choice, what did she want?

Taking a deep breath, her next words came out in a long stream. “I’ve been working to get a seat on the board here in Nashville for the better part of eight months. There’s a seat available but the chair wants to bring his brother-in-law into the fold. Tonight’s charity is all about who can pull high-profile strings. I said I could.”

What she said rumbled through his head. Cars rushed past them, a few honking on their way. They really needed to get off the shoulder.

“I still don’t see how I can help you. And as far as I can tell, you’re only asking me because I’m available, not because you think it’ll swing things in your direction with the board.”

Her cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink. “Of course you’ll sway things. You are available when others aren’t, but it’s not like you’re sloppy seconds.”

Despite the tension coursing through his veins, the stuffiness of the car, and his mounting irritation, he laughed. “Does it always take you this long to ask an actual question?”

She stiffened her shoulders, looked him straight in the eyes. “Will you attend a charity event tonight, as a celebrity guest, with me so I can make a good impression on the board of directors?” There had to be more. In his experience, no one ever asked for a favor that didn’t directly benefit them. Sure, she wanted a seat on the board of something but it was a good cause and seemed like a pretty impersonal favor. Unless…

“Do you have MS?” His voice was soft but his heart beat hard.

She shook her head, stared out the windshield at the darkening sky. “No,” she whispered. “My mom does.”

Sawyer’s throat tightened. He knew a thing or two about doing things for family. He didn’t know what Addie’s situation was, whether it was volatile and driven by guilt like his own family loyalty, but it clearly meant a lot to her.

“What time is this thing?”

She turned her head. “It’s already started.”

He wanted to go home, spend an hour in his Jacuzzi tub, have a couple of beers, and go to sleep. And there still might be more than she was saying.

“What does the seat on the board give you?” He’d known plenty of people who wanted cache, status, the limelight. It pissed him off. Because the people who were in the limelight got there, usually, doing something they loved. Something they were passionate about and worked their asses off to achieve.

Her brows furrowed. “It would mean having more input into where the funds raised go, having access to families to see what other supports they need, and it would allow me to be part of building a stronger media campaign to raise awareness. The MS society here in Nashville is a tight group. I want to be part of it and the wonderful work they’re doing. I know I can add to their campaign. I want a chance to show them I’d fit.”

Damn it. If she’d asked for money or for him to sign body parts, he could have said no without a hitch. This was different. She’s different. A little annoying, pretty presumptuous, but, if he trusted his gut at all—and that was hard for him these days—her heart was in the right place. He glanced down at his jeans, then back up at Addie. “I’m not exactly dressed for black tie.”

Her grin shot straight through him and his mind went utterly blank. That smile was enough to make him forget who he was. Which, at the moment, sounded pretty good.

She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I have a suit for you in the back.”

A deep chuckle burst from his lungs, surprising him. “You come prepared.”

“You’ll do it?” The hope in her voice tugged on his heartstrings. What heartstrings? Don’t get emotionally involved. Hadn’t he learned that lesson time and again? No. This was just the right thing to do. Maybe he was overtired from traveling or avoiding the ache keeping time in his leg, but he wanted to say yes to this woman. And he didn’t want to spend even two seconds analyzing why.

Another thought occurred to him. It was rare that people offered to give back what they asked for and even if they did, few were in a position to give Sawyer something he needed. Addie was a different story, and having an I.O.U. he could cash in might be a saving grace not too far down the line.

He nodded. “Yes.”

She beamed at him. Literally freaking beamed. Foreign feelings tumbled like a dryer sheet inside him, making him uneasy.

“But you owe me,” he said, holding her gaze.