If We Never Met by Barbara Freethy

Chapter Ten

Dante was goingto kiss her, and her lips parted in response. She should say no. She should stop him. But she couldn't seem to move. He couldn't seem to move, either. The air between them was charged with tension. She could feel the sizzle. But one of them had to make a move. They couldn't just stand there and stare at each other.

She sucked in a breath and stepped back. "Was the cabin hard for you to find?"

"What?" Confusion entered his eyes.

"I know this street can be tricky to find."

"Oh, no. I didn't have any problem." He cleared his throat. "Lizzie thought we might be hungry. She sent enchiladas and salad. There's a bottle of wine in here, too." He held up the shopping bag in his hand.

"I can't believe she did all that. I guess you told her you were coming to meet me."

"Yes, and she offered her car so I could make a clean escape."

"That was a good idea. I'm glad you were able to leave the inn without anyone realizing it. This all feels a little crazy and surreal to me."

"I'm sure. It's not your life."

"No, but it is yours."

"Unfortunately, yes. It's the least favorite part of my life."

"It was weird to see myself in a photo with a headline that had nothing to do with the truth," she said.

"They don't care about the truth. Fiction always makes more money."

"I guess. Why don't you come into the kitchen? We can open that wine and see what Lizzie packed for us." She led the way down the hall, taking the time to pull her head together. She hadn't expected him to bring dinner, which meant he'd be staying for more than a few minutes. She wanted him to stay, but after the tension that had flared between them, she was also a little worried that keeping him in the friend zone would not be easy.

As they entered the kitchen, he set the bag on the table, while she pulled out some wine glasses and looked for a bottle opener.

"You called this a cabin, but it's a lot nicer than that," he commented.

"The exterior is more cabin-like than the interior. That's the beauty of it. You get the charm of a cabin in the woods with all the modern amenities." She pulled out the opener and took it to the table, along with the glasses.

"And this place is for sale?"

"It will be going on the market next month. We're still waiting for a new stove, some lighting fixtures, and a washer and dryer to arrive. The owner is a friend of mine. She and her husband moved to Dallas a couple of weeks ago. They're staying in corporate housing, so they've left all their furniture here until they find a place to buy. In the meantime, I'm taking care of all the little details that need to happen before we list."

While Dante opened the wine, she unloaded the rest of the shopping bag. There was a delicious-smelling tray of enchiladas, a side of guacamole, and a green salad filled with veggies and tortilla strips. A small container of dressing had also been provided. It was like a picnic date. But she really shouldn't start thinking about it like that. She grabbed plates and utensils and then sat down across from Dante.

He handed her a glass of wine. "Are you showing this house to Mark Langley?"

"No. It's too far from the clinic for him. He's interested in one about three blocks from the house I share with my mom. She's very excited about that idea," she added, rolling her eyes.

He gave her a small smile. "Still on the hunt for dirt?"

"I haven't had a lot of time to do that, and after I told you about the fire, I lost some of my drive."

"Why?"

"Saying it out loud made it seem like I was grasping at straws. I'm not someone who usually jumps to conclusions or makes up conspiracy theories, just so you know."

"I didn't have that impression."

"What impression did you have?"

"That you love your mother and that you can't stop worrying about her just because she's feeling better."

"You're right. My mom says I have to step back. I have to let her be better. I have to trust that she is. But I have a difficult time with that. She's not a hundred percent, and this man came out of nowhere."

"Not really nowhere. He has a job history, a personal history. You didn't find any criminal records, did you?"

"I honestly didn't go that far." She opened the foil covering the enchiladas, pleased to see they were still warm. "We should eat before these get cold."

"Sounds good to me. I'm starving."

She filled their plates, then said, "I know we should talk about the pictures. That's why we're here."

"Let's do that after our meal. I don't want to lose my appetite."

She was fine with delaying that conversation. "Okay. How has your week been going?"

"The rehab is more difficult than I imagined, but the clinic is first-rate, and my therapists are very good. I do a variety of exercises to strengthen and increase my range of motion. They also have me working on my total body: walking, running, and swimming."

"That's interesting. Is that just to keep you in overall good shape?"

"The therapists have talked a lot about how everything in the body works together and that concentrating on just one area can sometimes put other muscle groups at risk. Of course, the main focus is the shoulder and the arm."

"Is this the first time in your career you've been injured?"

"Second time. A line drive fractured my left wrist when I was in college. Luckily, it wasn't my throwing hand, but it took me off the mound for a while."

"That sounds like a scary moment. Are you ever afraid of getting hit in the face?"

"I never think about that. I feel confident in my fielding skills." He took a sip of wine. "The shoulder took me by surprise. But it shouldn't have. I think I'd gotten a little lazy in my training. I was letting other things distract me in the off-season. I wasn't in as good of shape as I could have been."

"You're not easy on yourself, are you?"

"I don't think anyone is harder on me than I am on myself," he admitted. "I've always been that way. I have high expectations."

"Do those expectations encompass everyone around you?"

"No, just me. I don't have a lot of expectations of anyone else. It saves me from feeling disappointment."

Hearing the edge in his voice, she suspected that quite a few people had disappointed him, but probably no one more than his dad. "Your father let you down a lot, didn't he?"

"Too many times to count, and it took me a long time to realize that would always be the result. Finally, I stopped caring or expecting anything."

"Does he let your brothers down as well?"

"He seems to be closer to Danny now. My oldest brother lives near him, and he talks my dad's language. They watch a lot of football together. As for Micah and Paul, I think they have the same relationship with him as I do. But while my dad wasn't there for us, we were there for each other. Sometimes, we were beating each other up, but when it came to the big stuff, I knew I could count on my brothers."

"That's nice. I always wished for a sibling. Although, I did get a lot of attention as an only child, and I didn't have to share."

"Being an only kid does have its perks."

"True. I also had good friends growing up: Hannah, Chloe, and Gianna. We were very tight."

"I like Hannah. She's very direct and seems very loyal."

"As loyal as they come. She's sometimes a little too sarcastic and cynical, but that's just who she is. Gianna and Chloe are great, too. Chloe was married to her high school boyfriend, but they divorced last year, so she's raising their little boy alone. Gianna recently got married to Zach Barrington. He's an architect in town. They're raising his daughter, Hailey."

"Has everyone been in Whisper Lake their entire lives?"

"No. Gianna left for a long time. Hannah was gone for several years, as was I. Chloe has pretty much always been here. She manages the Big Sky Café."

"I stopped in there yesterday to have lunch. They have great food."

"They do."

"What about Lizzie?" he asked. "When did you meet her?"

"A few years ago, when she moved here to open her inn. Her sister Chelsea came shortly thereafter, as well as her brother, Adam. He's a police detective."

Dante nodded. "I think Grayson told me that."

"Lizzie is trying to get her entire family here, and it might happen. She has dogged determination."

"I have seen examples of that. I don't know how she does all she does, like packing us this very delicious dinner."

"I think sometimes she must have a clone, or two or three. I could probably use a couple of clones, too."

"How has your week gone?"

"It's been busy." She was unwilling to admit how much time she'd wasted thinking about him.

"And you like to be busy."

"I do, but maybe not this busy. I'd like to find a happy medium, a good balance."

"I think balance is overrated."

She gave him a thoughtful look. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you can't be all things to all people. Some endeavors require brutal, single-minded focus."

"Like your job."

"Yes. I don't know many successful pro athletes who have a million different things going on. They just can't. And that's not a dig at you," he added quickly. "I know I made you angry the other night. I'm not judging you. I'm talking about myself."

"But you did point that comment at me when I mentioned trying to find a balance."

"Guilty."

She ate for a moment, then said, "You told me the other night that you were terrified your career might be over. What would you do if you couldn't pitch?"

"I don't allow myself to think about it."

"Never?"

"Nope. I have one focus, and that's getting back to the mound. It's not balanced. It's all in."

If he couldn't pitch again, he was headed for a huge fall. "I'm a little scared for you. But I'm also really impressed."

"Why would you be impressed?"

"Because your level of commitment is huge."

"Baseball is all I've ever committed to."

"You've had tremendous success with it, so your commitment worked."

"Until my arm decided to go its own way."

"I really hope you get back to pitching, Dante. I'm rooting for you."

"Thank you. By the way, no one else knows how scared I am about my future."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't share that."

"You told me."

"And for the life of me, I don't know why. But when we talk, I find myself telling you things I don't usually share. Nikki has never even once asked me about my family, my relationship with my father or my brothers."

She was surprised. "Really? It seems so ordinary to talk about family."

He shrugged. "Not in my world."

"Your world sounds a little superficial."

"It can be," he admitted. "I don't think I noticed until I came here."

The look in his eyes was unsettling. She took a long sip of her wine. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I've shared a lot of personal information with you, too."

"You have, but I am curious about something, since we're going deep tonight."

"What's that?"

"What was it like giving up your design career?"

"It was nothing like what you're going through. I wasn't established. I wasn't at the top of my game, like you are. I was working an entry-level job at a fashion house. I ran a lot of errands, and any designing was done after hours in the hope that one day someone would give me a chance to show my designs. But that didn't happen."

"Still, you were pursuing your dream."

"It was a dream to be living in New York," she agreed. "The long hours, the nothing pay, the crappy apartment that I shared with three other girls didn't matter. I loved the city, the excitement, the energy, and the possibilities. I loved being around the designers, the models, and watching clothes come to life. Fashion Week in New York was my favorite time of the year. But in reality, I was more of a spectator in the fashion world than a participant."

"Do you think you'll go back to New York?"

"It's been on my mind the last year. More so since I started designing for my friends. But I don't know, Dante. I feel like that life has already passed me by."

"Why? You're not that old. Are you thirty? Thirty-one?"

"Thirty-one. And it's not just age; it's about lifestyle. What I was willing to do at twenty-two, twenty-three, I'm not sure I want to do now. Money has become more important to me. I don't want to live in a crowded apartment with three other people. I don't want to get coffee and run errands and go back to what I was doing."

"So, don't do that. Start higher. You have more experience now. A country music star just wore your dress on the red carpet. You don't have to do what you did before."

"It's still such a long shot. And New York is a long way from Whisper Lake. If something happened to my mom because I went off to try for something that's probably impossible to achieve, I don't think I could forgive myself."

"Something could happen to your mom while you're living in her house. You know that, Keira. Get honest. It's about fear that you're not good enough."

"I might not be good enough," she said.

"You won't know if you don't put yourself out there."

"It's more complicated than you understand."

"I get it. You have your mom to worry about. And as you told me before, practical matters, like money, play a role. But you don't want to look back years from now and wish you'd given your dream another shot. Have you talked to your mom about it?"

"No. I don't want her to think she is holding me back. That would hurt her too much."

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "You're a very kind, loving person. That's probably why you can't be as selfish as I can be."

She didn't know if he was selfish, or if he'd become an island of focus after his mom died and his father emotionally abandoned him. Maybe his pursuit of baseball had become the one thing in his life he could control. Now he'd lost that control, and he was desperate to get it back. But she'd probably done enough amateur psychoanalysis for one night. And she didn't want to keep talking about her career choices, either. She cleared her throat. "So, should we talk about the pictures?"

"Not yet."

She didn't ask him why he was stalling, because she didn't want to end the night yet, and it would end as soon as they got around to the real reason they were here.

Instead, she pushed her glass toward him. "In that case, top me off."

Dante needed to get down to the reason they were meeting, but he wasn't ready yet. He refilled both of their glasses and rested his arms on the table as he gazed into Keira's pretty brown eyes. Despite the fact that their conversation had gotten very personal, he felt surprisingly good. "Let's talk more about you," he said.

"I think we've already dissected my career prospects."

"What about your dating life? Have you heard from the real Danny again?"

"No. I think he got the hint when I left the bar so abruptly. We were not a match."

"I wonder how he's doing on his novel."

"Who knows?"

"He might become a famous novelist one day, and then you'll be like, damn, I had a chance to date him," he said with a grin.

She smiled. "That would be just my luck. But fame and money aren't important to me."

Other women had told him that, and he hadn't believed them. But he actually believed Keira. "What do you care about?"

"Being able to talk and laugh with someone. It's so right that it's easy. Every time I'm in a relationship that's too hard, I try to fix it, only to waste weeks of time to finally admit that it just doesn't work."

"If there isn't an immediate connection, it never really happens," he agreed. "How picky are you?"

"Not that picky to meet someone, but after that, I can get critical. I've seen all of my friends fall in love, and I want the best of everything. I want the smoking hot chemistry and the best friend."

"You do want it all."

"Yes, I do. There's a song by Etta James, 'A Sunday Kind of Love'. Have you heard it?"

"No."

"It's not about the guys who are hot, sexy fun on Saturday night. It's about finding a man you want to spend all day Sunday with. That's who I'm looking for—that guy."

He wasn't that guy. He was usually pitching on Sundays. He knew he was taking it too literally, but that helped prevent him from making the ridiculous declaration that maybe he could be that guy, because he couldn't. And it wasn't just because of baseball. He was a Saturday night guy. He was a gone the next morning man. At least, he always had been. "I take it you haven't met that guy."

"Nope."

"Ever get close?"

"A couple of times I thought maybe…but none of them worked out. The last few years, dates have been sparse. I've been busy, and I don't exactly live in a big city with a lot of options."

"Is staying in Whisper Lake a deal breaker?"

"Maybe. But I don't have to make that decision now. What about you? Have you been in serious relationships before Nikki?"

"Just to clarify once more, Nikki isn't a serious relationship."

"What about before her?"

"I've had a couple of relationships that lasted a year or so, mostly when I was younger—high school, college. Once I was drafted and started traveling from city to city, my primary relationship was with baseball. I've lived a rather narrow life when I think about it." His words actually surprised him. He hadn't thought of it that way until now.

"Narrow? Your life seems big to me."

"But in just one specific area. Do you want more wine?" he asked, as she finished her glass.

"No. If I drink more wine, I won't be able to drive home. We need to talk about the pictures, Dante."

"I know. I have to say I was surprised by the shots. I didn't think the photographer caught us at Micky's."

"And I never saw anyone outside the rehab center. But you were right. Once the photographer saw us together twice, he started spinning a story about us that was completely fictional."

"It's possible that it will get worse now. Even if more paparazzi don't show up, people will be taking out their phones and snapping photos wherever I go. You can make good money taking pictures of celebrities."

"I feel like Whisper Lake is pretty good about letting celebrities have their privacy. Chelsea has gone through some of that scrutiny, but most people leave her alone now."

"That might be true if I lived here full-time, but I'm at a moment in my life that's very tenuous, and a lot of sports reporters and fans are eager to know if I'm going to make it back this season. It would be better for you if we didn't get close enough for anyone to take another picture."

"So, we're breaking up," she said. "Even though there's nothing to break up."

He thought about that for a moment. "Isn't there, Keira?"

A sudden uncertain gleam lit up her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. There's something between us."

"There's also someone between us. Has Nikki seen the photos?"

"Yes. I told her there was nothing to them."

"Did she believe you?"

"She knows how the press is. She's a very popular model, and she has dated a lot of high- profile celebrities. She's used to cameras."

"I actually met Nikki a long time ago when I was in New York. I'm sure she wouldn't remember me. She was a young model, and I was an errand girl. She's really beautiful. You're lucky."

He didn't feel lucky. He felt like he'd gotten caught in an unexpected trap.

"We didn't really need to meet for you to tell me to stay away from you," Keira continued. "You could have said that on the phone. Why didn't you?"

"Because I wanted to see you again. I told Nikki that things weren't working out for us, but she cut me off when I suggested we take a break. She said we'd talk about it later."

Surprise moved through her gaze. "Why did you tell her that?"

"Because it's the truth. We haven't been in sync for weeks, long before I met you."

"I don't want to be the reason you break up with her. It's not like we have a future ahead. You'll be leaving in a few weeks."

"I know. If this was another time, another place…"

"But it's not."

"No," he agreed, feeling weighed down by that answer. "So, this is it?"

"I think so." She forced a smile onto her face. "It was fun while it lasted. I don't want things to be awkward between us. This is a small town. You're staying at the inn. It's likely we'll run into each other. Let's not make this into a bigger deal than it is."

She was saying everything she could to make their situation easier, and he should have appreciated that, but he didn't.

Keira stood up. "I'll clean all this up and get the dishes back to Lizzie tomorrow. You can go, Dante."

He got to his feet, not at all happy with the way things were ending. "This isn't what I want."

She stared back at him. "Sometimes you have to accept that you don't always get what you want."

"I never accept that. I just keep fighting until I reach my goal."

"I'm not your goal, Dante. And until you actually break up with Nikki, you probably shouldn't be kissing anyone else."

"You were irresistible," he said with a smile.

Her lips curved upward. "So were you, but it's over. That's the best decision for both of us." She stuck out her hand. "Deal?"

He took her hand, his fingers curling around hers, and he held on for far too long.

"You have to let go now," she said.

"You first," he replied, a challenging note in his voice. "Or we could have a goodbye kiss."

She licked her lips, and his heart thudded against his chest.

"I'm really tempted," she whispered. "But it won't make me want to say goodbye." She yanked her hand away from his. "Can you please go before I change my mind?"

He really didn't want to leave. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless. And then he wanted to take it even further. But he couldn't do that, not while he was tangled up with Nikki, and maybe not even when he was untangled. Because this woman seemed like someone who could be a distraction for a very long time.

"Dante," she pleaded, an almost desperate note in her voice.

"Okay, I'm going. Just for the record, I don't think this is over." He left before she could respond, letting the front door slam behind him in frustration. He was a man who got what he wanted. But he couldn't have her—not now, probably not ever—and he didn't know how to just accept that. But he was going to have to figure out a way.