Betting On The Rookie

They’ve both got their eye on the prize

Sports agent Samantha Baker needs an epic comeback after the disaster that destroyed her career. Just one client, and she’ll prove she can do this thing again. And that one client has to be Evan Tanner. A late-blooming rookie with talent for the record books, Evan’s got everything it takes.

And, sure, Evan can win on the field, but winning over Samantha is a whole other ball game. She’s been hurt personally and professionally, so just one lie will strike him out for good. So while Sam’s intent on the major league, Evan won’t give up on an even bigger prize: the trust of this woman he loves.

“You’re a knight in shining armor, aren’t you? Ready to save the damsel in distress.”

“If you’ll let me.”

Sam chuckled. “Evan, trust me, I’m not a damsel and if I did need saving, I’d do it myself. Just be there on time. I’ll pick out the outfit I want you to wear.” She started to walk away toward her own car. That sleek ice-blue Mercedes that reminded him of her.

Evan scowled. “I’m not some damn doll to be dressed up,” he called after her.

“No, you’re a client who I want to make sure is dressed and looking appropriate for his first public appearance.”

“I don’t like red!” he shouted even as she was opening her car door.

She waved back. “I don’t care.”

Yeah, Evan thought as he watched her drive away, hiring her was both the best and worst decision he’d ever made.

Dear Reader,

Well, this is it. The final book in The Bakers of Baseball series. It has been so much fun writing these books. I know I’m going to miss Minotaur Falls and baseball.

I have to confess I absolutely love baseball movies. In my opinion you don’t even have to love baseball to love baseball movies. These books have been my tribute to every baseball movie I have ever loved.

In this final chapter, we meet Samantha and Evan, who were introduced in Scout’s Honor, and being able to take their story from one book to the next was also a thrill. Sam and Evan don’t have the easiest time finding their way to a happy ending, but of course it wouldn’t be a story if they didn’t!

I hope, if you’ve read the series, you’ve enjoyed the Baker women as much as I have. I love to hear from readers, so please feel free to contact me at www.stephaniedoyle.net, on Facebook or on Twitter, @stephdoylerw.

Stephanie

Betting on the Rookie

Stephanie Doyle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

STEPHANIE DOYLE, a dedicated romance reader, began to pen her own romantic adventures at age sixteen. She began submitting to Harlequin at age eighteen and by twenty-six her first book was published. Fifteen years later, she still loves what she does, as each book is a new adventure. She lives in South Jersey with her cat, Hermione, the designated princess of the house. When Stephanie’s not reading or writing, in the summer she is most likely watching a baseball game and eating a hot dog.

For Wanda

Contents

COVER

BACK COVER TEXT

INTRODUCTION

Dear Reader

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

PROLOGUE

“RICHARD, TELL ME again you didn’t do this thing.”

Samantha sat behind the desk in her office and continued to read the Tweets on her phone even as she waited for the person in front of her to prove he couldn’t be guilty of what he’d been accused.

She knew Richard. She’d followed him his entire college career and was the first to call him when he committed to the NFL draft. She’d sat down with his family, she’d talked to ex-girlfriends, former teachers. Everyone had glowing things to say about him.

Who didn’t love Richard Stanson, the all-American quarterback?

Samantha prided herself on having a small close-knit clientele. These weren’t just people she represented; they were people she knew. Her entire business model was built on the idea that trust was the number one component of each and every relationship.

They had to trust her with their careers, their compensation, and she had to trust that she was working for the right people. Good people who understood what it meant to be not just an athlete, but a professional. It wasn’t just about the money for her. It hadn’t been since she’d left Barkley Partners to go it alone.

She wanted to be an agent on her terms. She wanted only the best kind of clients, and she wanted to make sure she did right by all of them.

Richard had been one of her first major wins. Everyone wanted him, but he chose her because he said he trusted her the most. He’d legitimized her agency. He’d legitimized her.

If an all-American quarterback didn’t have a problem with a woman as an agent, then who would?

“Sam, I didn’t do it.”

Samantha closed her eyes. He looked so earnest. Sometimes she forgot he was only twenty-six. Still, in many ways, just a kid playing a game.

“Come on, you have to believe me,” he said again, putting his hands on her desk. He had immediately flown to Chicago when the story had been about to break. He said it was because he wanted her to hear his side first, and he wanted to do it in person, so she could see his face when he told her.

Too late about getting to her first.

Social media was already beginning to tear down America’s quarterback. Guilty before even having a chance to say he was innocent.

Samantha’s phone had been buzzing frantically all morning. His sponsors would want constant updates. She didn’t blame them, not when the man whose face was on so many of America’s favorite products had just been accused of hitting a woman and knocking her down a flight of stairs.

“I’ve been with you for four years,” he told her. “You know what kind of person I am. You have to.”

Samantha stopped reading the Tweets and set her phone aside for now. She looked into his eyes, really looked into them as she tried to evaluate whether or not he could be that good a liar.

He sounded innocent. He looked innocent.

In the four years he’d been her client nothing like this had come out before. But in the past seven months of him dating Juliette, the supermodel, things had been different. Their relationship at best could be described as intense. At worst volatile. Several of their verbal arguments had been caught on camera outside various nightclubs.

Samantha had at one point suggested that maybe they weren’t a good fit. Richard had shrugged it off and just said that they were working through their issues. The next thing Sam heard, they were engaged. When he’d called to tell her that news, he’d promised Sam that they were better. More relaxed as a couple. He seemed so certain she was the one. That their love was the real thing.

Would a man who loved his fiancée hit her?

Sadly, Sam knew the answer to that question all too well.

“People are reporting hearing shouts in the stairwell before you opened the door and called for help.”

“We were drunk,” he insisted. “Yes, we were loud and obnoxious before it happened. I’ve got no excuse for that, I can only tell you it’s the truth. Hell, that’s why she fell. And I was too drunk to catch her before she went down.”

It wasn’t the most unreasonable story. They had left the hotel bar late at night and decided to take the stairs to their room on the second floor. They had been drunk, clearly loud enough for people in the hotel lobby to have heard them. Juliette had tripped in her four-inch-high stilettos, fallen, hit her chin on the stair railing and knocked herself out cold.

The concierge had opened the door to the stairs, only to find Richard picking up his out-cold fiancée with a severe red mark already forming on her face. He did the next logical thing and called the police.

Only, Juliette had revived by the time the police got there and backed up Richard’s story. No formal complaint had been filed, and the police left the hotel.

However, someone in the lobby, who must have realized who Richard was, had apparently snapped a picture of the quarterback with his unconscious fiancée in his arms. From there it was nothing more than a few reTweets to social media obliteration.

“You need to let me get out there. Let me tell them my side of the story. They’ll believe me. Hell, they will believe Juliette.”

No, Sam thought. They won’t. Not when a woman is about to marry a man who is about to become the highest paid NFL quarterback of all time.

“You’re not saying anything,” she told him. “I’ll hold a press conference in the large conference room downstairs. I’ll tell them everything you said exactly as you said it and let them ask me their questions. If you and Juliette are seen together, I think it will just lend more credence to a false accusation. Besides, her face must be a mess. I’ll handle it.”

“I knew you would believe me,” he said, smiling and nodding. “I knew you would never think that of me.”

“Just one last question.” Samantha had gone over the series of events Richard had detailed for her, coupled with the police report and the story she’d heard directly from the concierge at the hotel. One thing hadn’t sounded right.

“Why was her shirt ripped?”

“What?”

“Her shirt, the concierge said a bunch of buttons were at the bottom of the steps, and it looked like her shirt was ripped in front.”

Richard shook his head. “Maybe when I reached for her, I grabbed her shirt from behind?”

“Maybe?”

Richard groaned. “Come on, Sam. I already told you. I was drunk. Freaking blitzed. It happened in a second. One minute she’s standing next to me, the next she’s at the bottom of the steps.”

It all came down to trust.

Did Sam trust Richard or didn’t she?

* * *

THE NEXT DAY Sam stood in her conference room, which was filled to capacity with press. ESPN had sent a film crew, and it was clear they were disappointed only Sam would be speaking.

“Richard Stanson is innocent. I’m not saying that as his lawyer or his agent, but as his friend. He is the victim in this case. The victim of a picture taken out of context by a person who didn’t have all the facts.”

“Can you tell us the facts as you understand them?” one reporter called out.

Samantha laid out Richard’s perfectly reasonable explanation for the events of a few nights ago.

“Now, this doesn’t excuse him from overindulging—Juliette, either, for that matter—but it doesn’t make him the monster he is being portrayed as...”

Sam stopped talking, because she could feel an immediate change in the room. Phones were buzzing. Everyone was shifting to look at their messages.

No one was paying any attention to her.

That meant bigger news was breaking.

Good, she thought. The quicker they moved on to the next story, the sooner they would leave Richard alone.

“So if that’s all your questions...”

“Ms. Baker,” one reporter said, stopping her. “A last question. Have you seen the video?”

“I’m sorry?” Sam could feel the heat in her cheeks. “What video?”

“The video from the stairwell. Turns out there was a camera just over the door.”

A video shouldn’t matter. A video would just prove Richard’s innocence. Then, why was her gut turning over?

“Excellent,” Sam said. “I’m sure any video will corroborate my client’s story.”

No, she thought. She could see it in their faces. The glimmer of excitement as the story was about to get even worse. Which, of course, made the reporting of it better for all of them.

“Sam,” said another reporter, a woman Sam had given any number of interviews to in the past. “You’re going to want to see the video before you say anything else.”

So Sam did. She took out her phone, also buzzing like crazy with texts, and pulled up YouTube, which was showing a video of Richard Stanson clearly ripping the shirt off his girlfriend and then punching her in the face only to watch her unconscious body fall down four steps to the floor.

CHAPTER ONE

Six months later...

SAMANTHA STARED UP at the house and wondered maybe for the thousandth time why she had felt like this would be a good idea.

Talk about starting over.

Returning to Minotaur Falls seemed like as good a place as any to reboot her life. After all, this was where she’d been raised, and that had worked out pretty well...

Until it hadn’t.

If she was going to stay in the Falls, in her old hometown, then her old home seem appropriate, as well. It had been empty these last years since Duff had died, and Scout had followed her husband, Jayson, to Arizona. Scout was thrilled with the idea of someone actually living here. As if the empty house reminded her of the fact that their father was dead. Which of course would make Scout profoundly sad.

Wow. Had it been almost two years since Duff passed? Some days Samantha felt the grief as if she’d just lost him. Other times it seemed far away, as if those months of reconciling with him, only to then lose him, were a dream from another time.

Back then Sam hadn’t really allowed herself the chance to grieve. There had been Scout to deal with. Samantha had felt it necessary to put her emotions aside to focus on her youngest sister. Scout and Duff had been inseparable through life. There had been worry amongst the family that Scout might not mentally survive his loss.

They should have given Scout more credit. After all, she was pretty tough. Just like Duff raised her to be.

No, no one would have guessed that, of all the Baker girls to lose their grip on their mental faculties...that it would have been calm, cool—practically icy—Samantha Baker.

It was only a small meltdown.

But now you’re back.

Sam’s phone buzzed. It used to go off at all hours of the day in a constant stream of incoming calls and texts but had suddenly gone quiet. Now when it buzzed, it was actually a surprise to her.

“Hello?”

“Are you home yet?”

Scout. Only Scout would refer to this house as Sam’s home. Sam hitched her very expensive handbag over a shoulder and made her way up the porch steps.

“Yes, I’m here.”

She shook out her key ring and identified the one to the house. Pressing the phone between her shoulder and her ear, she unlocked the door and let herself in.

Two years away, and yet nothing had changed. The only thing missing was Duff’s favorite chair. Scout had moved that out to Arizona with her.

“Sandy from down the street has been cleaning it for me once a month. I know it’s a ridiculous waste of money, but I just can’t let it go,” Scout was saying as Sam set her bag down.

“It looks like it’s in really great shape.” She took a moment and glanced around the place. No dust, no smell to suggest the air was musty. Just a fresh and clean house, much like it had been the last time she’d been here.

Much like it had been when Duff was alive.

Sam braced herself for the pang of sadness and let it roll over her. Despite her and Duff’s troubles, the love had always been there. She’d never considered what a hole his absence might mean in her life.

Duff was always supposed to be there.

He was supposed to be here now, telling her that she could do this. She could get back on the horse and get her career back. Her life back.

“Well, it’s a perfect hiding place to lick your wounds for a while. Just ask me.”

“I’m not hiding,” Sam said immediately. “I’m not licking wounds. I’m staging a comeback. That’s totally different.”

“Fine, but listen, if you need me to come home and hang with you...”

“I don’t need anyone,” Sam said, cutting her off. There was no room for sympathy and hand-holding. Yes, she’d had a setback. A significant one, but nothing she couldn’t overcome with some hard work and belief in herself.

“Wow.” Scout chuckled in her ear. “That, my friend, was a very good impression of me. But let me remind you... I did need people. So again, I’m only a phone call and a flight away.”

“It’s the middle of the baseball season, Scout.”

“And you’re my sister, Sam.”

Right. As important as baseball was to the Bakers, family was even more important.

“Understood. Really, it’s not like I’m curled up in ball crying my eyes out.” She had been, but that had been over a month ago. Now she was back.

She hoped.

“The only thing I need from you is prospects.”

Up-and-coming baseball players were Scout’s bailiwick. Sam figured she only needed one solid prospect to sign with her to show everyone she was down but not out.

Someone who would be okay signing with an agent who had loudly and fervently supported a man who’d turned out to be an abuser.

Sam’s stomach rolled, and she wondered when the self-disgust would stop. When she might consider forgiving herself for trusting Richard Stanson.

No one had believed her, of course, that she’d actually trusted him.

Then again, no one had thought she would be so stupid as to stand in front of a room filled with reporters announcing that her client was the victim if she’d known there was video proof.

Richard had known about the video. He’d seen the camera and had paid the hotel security person two hundred thousand dollars to erase it. Apparently that hadn’t been enough.

She’d lost all of her female clients first. No one wanted to be associated with someone who would support a man like him. She couldn’t blame them. Then, her male clients had started to drop her, one by one. Some had been afraid of guilt by association. Others had simply had a concern about her judgment.

In the end she’d been left with Richard, who she’d severed ties with immediately.

He and Juliette were in counseling now. The wedding was still planned for late August.

“I’ve got one, but I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about this.”

Sam focused on what Scout was saying. She needed to start putting the past behind her and work on her future. This was about rebuilding, not tearing herself down just because she’d made a mistake and believed a man who lied to her.

Twice. You’ve made that mistake twice.

“Who? Give me a name,” Sam said, not acknowledging her own thoughts.

“Okay, remember Evan Tanner?”

The name sent a bolt to Sam’s stomach. It wasn’t disgust. Not fear or anxiety. If she had to label it, the closest she might have come was lust, but even that didn’t seem right.

She’d met Evan two years ago when Scout had picked him out as a draft prospect for the New England Rebels. At the time, he’d been a twenty-seven-year-old former college football player who had just taught himself the game of baseball so he could coach a high school team.

Evan Tanner had cost Scout her job with the Rebels; he’d been such an unlikely pick. But there was one thing Scout knew better than anyone, and that was baseball and baseball players. He’d ended up being drafted in the third round, but that was the last Samantha had heard about him. Which made sense if he was bouncing around in minor ball.

Players didn’t make it on to Sam’s radar until they hit the majors.

“Vaguely,” Sam said, because she in fact remembered him vividly. There had been something about him that made it hard for her to look away. It wasn’t just his straight-up good looks or his golden brown eyes. There had been something so nice about him. And when she’d given him her full ice princess shutdown when he’d flirted with her, he hadn’t seemed the least put off or intimidated.

Everyone quaked at her ice princess face.

“Well, guess what? He just got traded to the New England Rebels organization. He’s going to play for the Minotaurs, and while that’s just their minor league team, the talk is he’ll be playing in The Show by the All-Star break.”

That made Sam’s jaw drop. “You’re kidding me. The team that fired you over even suggesting this guy, and they traded for him?”

“Please, you know baseball. A lot of short memories when it comes to this kind of stuff. Especially given Evan’s talent. I’m sure Reuben had no problem spinning his way out of that even a little bit. And it’s not like Evan has a say in where he goes. He’s got to take his chances as they come. He’s blowing it up big-time in the minors, hitting over .350. Once they call him up, he’s going to need an agent. Someone ruthless, too, if he’s going to negotiate with Reuben.”

Great, Sam thought. Her first shot at a real client, and it had to be Evan Tanner.

“Plus, Evan owes me. I put in a good word for you, and it’s a done deal.”

“No word!” Sam snapped. “First, I’m going to investigate the hell out of this guy, and when and only when I decide he’s worthy of my services, then I’ll do the work of landing him. It has to be that way, Scout. I can’t be taking on pity clients. That won’t accomplish anything.”

“Okay,” Scout said, relenting. “No word from me, but it’s not like he doesn’t know who are you. You can’t help that.”

Would he even remember her? Nearly two years seemed like a lifetime ago. A few conversations, some flirting on his part. Ice princess on hers.

Of course he would know her by name. He would certainly know about the scandal. But that was an obstacle she was going to have to overcome with any potential client.

I made a mistake. I believed a man. But give me one more chance, and I swear I’ll never make that mistake again.

She was going to have to work on her pitch.

“The Minotaurs are traveling now, so he’ll join the team on the road. But he should be back in the Falls by the end of the week. That should give you plenty of time to do your research.”

“Thanks, Scout. This could be the break I need.”

“No problem, and if you do sign him, please, give the New England Rebels hell for me. Take every penny out of their pocket you possibly can.”

Sam smiled. “That I can do.”

Sam ended the call and suddenly felt a thrill of excitement. This was it. She was back in business and on the prowl for a new client.

Maybe she would get lucky. Maybe she would see him again and realize he wasn’t as remotely nice to look at as the last time she’d seen him. Because it wasn’t the greatest idea to be attracted to a potential client.

Yes, she was sure her memory was exaggerated.

After all, at the time, she thought he’d been one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.

That had to be wrong.

* * *

EVAN TANNER WAS pulling into the Minotaurs’ baseball field parking lot with his father still talking through the speakers in his truck. It was a new truck, red with black interior. Something he had absolutely no need for but had always wanted.

As a high school teacher and coach, it had been a pipe dream. Conservative used cars had been more his style. Now, he could afford this truck easily. Something he acknowledged was completely jacked—getting more money to play a game than to teach kids. Because he could swing a bat and hit a ball. Life was crazy sometimes.