Curveball: Curveball #1

By Teresa Michaels

Breanne Sullivan’s world has been turned upside down. In the midst of an investigation surrounding her husband, Breanne returns to the corporate world she left years ago to raise her children. Now, a required business trip places her on Innovation Airways’ maiden flight sitting next to pitching sensation and self-proclaimed bachelor, Drew Scott.

Drew is charismatic, devastatingly handsome and has never encountered a woman he couldn’t have. That is, until he meets Breanne, whose attempts to deny the intense attraction they share only fuels Drew’s determination not to take no for an answer. But when the flight veers off-course and an unfathomable sequence of events forces them to rely on each other in a race for their lives, intentions quickly change. High-tech travel turns into a game of survival that invites temptation and threatens to push their desires over the edge.

He’s a tempting distraction she has to resist. She’s an unexpected challenge he’s determined to have at least once. The question is, if she gives in will he be able to let her go?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teresa Michaels
• Release date: Sep 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781513063430

Book preview

Curveball

Teresa Michaels

BARNES & NOBLE EDITION

Copyright © 2015 TERESA MICHAELS

All Rights Reserved

Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creations

Formatting by Mayhem Cover Creations

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events described in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my husband, Boo-boo, and Little Man – the three loves of my life!

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

THANK YOU

CHAPTER ONE

Rude Awakening

A swift blow to my ribs jars me from sleep.

Ah, I groan in pain.

I attempt to roll over to soothe the ache in my side only to find that my body is restrained. My eyes flash open but it’s pitch dark. The feeling of silky fabric against my eyelashes tells me it’s not necessarily from a lack of light.

Shit! Where the hell am I?

I struggle to move my arms as they are weighted down and tingling. Without my sight all other senses have become alert, although my brain has yet to follow. I tense as the sensation of being covered by body parts resonates. I am not alone. A muffled voice and rustling to my left causes my hair to stand on end. On my right a low humming pricks my ear, accompanied by rhythmic spurts of warm air against my neck. What the hell? I’m frightened to the point of barely being able to breathe, and yet the warmth is so soothing that in my groggy and confused state, it threatens to pull me back under.

Wake up! Think damn it!

I swallow and open my mouth to call out to whomever has me captive. But before the words leave my mouth, the back of a hand strikes my face, followed by another karate-chop to my esophagus.

I spurt and cough, gasping for air. God, it burns to swallow. A blaring sound pierces my ear, followed by one more swift kick to my ribs.

Fuck! I sputter, flying upright with such force that I finally free my arms.

Dats poddy tahk, a high-pitched voice scolds.

Mom, turn it off, another familiar voice mumbles.

Relief flows as reality sinks in. I remove my eye mask and glance over one shoulder and then the other to take in the scene. Looking at each of my girls, I visualize the sleeping arrangement. Aubrey’s head must have been resting on my left arm, while her body was sprawled out like a starfish, positioned halfway across my body. Maddie’s head took advantage of my right arm as a pillow, curled up in the fetal position and flush against my side. I was laid out like I was chained to a cross.

The image of my daughters like that compared to my initial fear of being in danger makes me laugh. I have to bite my lip to keep this joke to myself without further disturbing their sleep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Reaching over Maddie’s tiny body, I quickly silence the alarm. I rub my eyes in disbelief and once again feel panic bubbling. Crap! I must have hit the snooze button several times.

Carefully, I free my legs from under the covers and remove Aubrey’s miniature foot from my midsection. As I scoot towards the edge of the bed, I feel Maddie roll closer to Aubrey. I glance back at my girls peacefully snuggling and smile. Despite the bruise that I sense is forming on my side, and the fact that I’m very late, there is no better way to wake up. And although there is no place I’d rather be right now, I have to get moving. I am late!

I laugh to myself and shake my head while turning towards the bathroom. Two steps later my foot catches and I stumble on my son curled up in the fetal position on the sweater dress I wore yesterday and forgot to hang up.

Oh, Colin, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were in here. Why are you sleeping on the floor? I whisper, crouching down next to him and gently rub the spot on his leg where I kicked him.

No room, he mutters.

Because my arms are still plagued by pins-and-needles and because Colin’s getting big, I have to use all my strength to heave his limp body from the floor and place him down as gently as possible on the far side of the bed. God, when did he get so big? When did they all get so big? Rolling my eyes in amusement as I walk away, I think my husband was right; we should have gotten a bigger bed. My argument had been that with all his travel for work a king size bed would be way too big and lonely. Apparently, I neglected to realize how much room the kids would eventually take up.

Pulling myself back to the present, I grab the clothes I laid out last night and rush into the bathroom. I have a plane to catch!

Not having time to fuss, I rush through my shower and find myself struggling to remember if I used conditioner by the time I’m done. Toweling off, I decide it doesn’t matter - I should have an hour or so of free time once I get to the hotel to spruce up if needed. I comb my damp dirty-blonde hair into a twist, secure it with a metal hair beak and mentally plan on doing my makeup on the ride to the airport.

I hurriedly shimmy into my bra and panties and then practically fall over as I roll on my thigh-high stockings, snagging one on an open drawer in the process. I guess the skirt is out. I finish the essentials – brush my teeth, put on deodorant and lotion – then dig through my toiletry bag to confirm I have everything that I need. It’s all there. I am really doing this. Am I really doing this?

I grab the counter for stability and give myself a measured look in the mirror. It’s surreal that only two months ago I returned to work after spending six years at home with the kids. Sure, I had done consulting gigs here and there, but my priority was caring for my three little ones and my husband. This trip marks my first time away from them and I’m dreading it with every ounce of my being. Over the years, Mark always commented on how hard it was to leave for each trip. But, he explained, coming home to a warm reception and our sweet faces made it bearable. This is the thought I will hang onto to get me out the door.

Not only do I have to do this now that I’ve made the choice to rejoin the workforce, I need to do this for myself. Taking a deep breath and drying my misty eyes, I head out of the bathroom to find my suit. I’m really doing this.

Dressed in a newly tailored black suit and an emerald colored silk blouse, I feel I at least look the part of a confident business woman about to close a large deal. Momentarily pleased by my confident façade, I put in my silver earrings and then clasp the hook on the necklace Mark got me for our last anniversary. I smile at the memory and collect the small tin jewelry container that the necklace came in, which I’ll bring with me to avoid misplacing my trinkets.

When I’m satisfied that I have what I need, I walk to the bedroom to gather my luggage. Thank God I packed yesterday, I inwardly muse and mentally pat myself on the back. This small delight is short lived as I notice that the bed, which had been filled moments ago with sleeping children, is now empty. Anxiety begins swarming in my chest.

I turn towards the clock. It’s only quarter past five in the morning; they wouldn’t have gone back to their own beds. Heading down the hallway to confirm this thought, I stop suddenly at the sound of a familiar voice and sigh in relief. Sarah is here!

With full hands I awkwardly make my way down the stairs with my luggage, which only consists of one medium sized suitcase that I’ll check, one carry-on and my purse. I’m sure I’ve over-packed for a four-day trip, but I’d rather be over-prepared than under. I step onto the landing and inhale the scent of coffee and listen to spoons clanking against ceramic bowls inharmoniously.

Sarah, a long-time family friend, is a godsend. Despite having children of her own, she never hesitated when I told her I was going back to work and asked if she’d be our nanny. In fact, I think she was happy for me. The kids have always enjoyed having her here, which has made my transition more tolerable for everybody.

Thank you so much for coming early today, I tell Sarah appreciatively as I enter the kitchen.

Please, think nothing of it. I’m glad to help, she smiles brightly and hands me a granola bar.

Oh, she exclaims, whirling around to the counter as if recalling something important. I made you a little something to take the edge off. She winks as she hands me a glass of orange liquid. Suspicious, I smell the contents of the glass confirming it’s a mimosa.

A little early for spirits don’t you think? I whisper in mock disapproval.

Sarah raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you kidding me?’ and I know she’s right. I smile and quickly chug it, hoping it gives me enough courage to say my good-byes and get out the door. What I really want to do is call off this trip or quit my job and go back to how things were. But deep down I know that giving in to fear is not the right example to set.

Before I forget, I made a short list of things the kids have going on this week, I say, picking up my notes. I review the list carefully again to be sure I haven’t missed anything.

Colin has a science experiment due this week involving color perception. The homework sheet said he needed a paper plate, pencil, ruler, markers and string. I looked around last night and found everything but string and set it on the counter. He’s supposed to do it on his own and take notes which are due Thursday. Can you pick up string and remind him to work on it? I ask.

Without looking up or waiting for a response, I continue. Also, Aubrey has piano tomorrow at 4:00pm which you already know and Maddie’s rewards for staying dry through the night are in a pink baggie on the top shelf of the pantry.

Sarah listens politely, though the smirk and raised eyebrows tell me it’s simply for her entertainment. She already knows all of this. I emailed it to her on Saturday and part of it has become routine anyways.

I know you’re nervous about being away, Breanne. I’ll take good care of them and it’s only for a few days, Sarah reassures me, placing her hand on my forearm. I nod in agreement and turn my attention to saying goodbye to the kids. Be brave!

Maddie, the youngest, proudly walks over to me and hands me a picture. Cause you’ll miss us, she says.

I look at the picture and reach for her face, stroking her cheek with my thumb. The picture is of our family. We are on the front steps of our house on a fall day almost two years ago, sitting in order of age, oldest to youngest: Mark, me, Colin, Aubrey, and Madison.

This is so thoughtful of you, Maddie.

Aubrey promises me that she’ll compose a song for me while I’m gone, and if she has it done in time she’ll play part of it on the phone for me. Colin reassures me that they will be fine and that he’ll make sure the girls don’t fight too much. At the age of seven, I’m already amazed at the man I see him becoming.

Before I let myself feel or show how scared I am I clear my throat and say, I love you guys so much. Now give me hugs and kisses so you can finish breakfast and watch a show before you need to get ready for school. I’ll only be gone for a few days and you can call me anytime, day or night, I say to reassure them. Or maybe it’s to reassure me.

I give them all huge hugs and grab my things - luggage, purse, coffee and a book in which I place the picture. Standing in front of the door, I turn to Sarah and continue to remind her of routine information because somehow confirming the obvious makes me feel slightly better that everything will be fine.

The car is waiting, Breanne. You’ll miss your flight! I’ve got this. I nod to Sarah, knowing she’s right. When I make no move to leave Sarah reaches past me, opens the door and tilts her head slightly to the side. You know Mark would have been here today if it was an option. And you also know that if he was the one pushing you out the door he’d remind you that everything will be fine here and to breathe. I nod again, take a deep breath and step towards the door.

Love you all, I tell them one last time and head out the door.

Walking across the lawn towards the car I hear Colin call out as he follows behind me. Don’t forget we have dinner plans the night after you get home, he says, shivering in the cool fall air.

Don’t worry! I made reservations months ago. I’ve got to go but I’ll call you before bed so I can say goodnight, I tell him. Now get inside before you catch a cold…and Colin, please help with your sisters.

He nods before turning on his heels. I watch him run back into the house as the driver loads my belongings into the trunk. I settle into the car.

Even in the early morning hours there is plenty of movement in our suburban neighborhood. We live only 20 minutes or so outside of Boston on a street populated with several corporate executives who start their days in the office just when most people are rolling out of bed. In comparison to other houses in this area, our four-bedroom, two-car garage with a brick exterior and blue shutters is modest. To me, though, it’s perfect and holds countless memories.

The car pulls onto the street and I wave to the three silhouettes lit up in the doorway of our dream house. Tearing my gaze away, I pull out the picture that Maddie handed to me moments ago and think how thoughtful she is for a three year old, and how blessed I am to have such a wonderful family.

Would you like to listen to the radio? the driver asks. Before I can respond he adds, I can also offer you this morning’s paper if you’d prefer.

Thanks, I’ll take the paper, I reply, thinking this will be a good distraction. He holds the paper over his shoulder and I take it. The good old Boston Globe. Hmm, so what are today’s headlines? Red Sox lose to the Orioles - I don’t really care for sports, so moving on. Increased crime in Boston suburbs – I find this mildly interesting but given that I’ve just left my children for days in the suburbs with a nanny I know better than to read this. Innovation Airways Maiden Flight – hmm, this peaks my interest.

Just over two years ago Mark’s company was in the midst of closing a deal to invest in a software company’s technology that was later bought by the airline in the article. I never heard all the details about what went wrong but another venture capital firm was chosen at the last minute to provide the financial backing. Had Mark’s company secured the deal he would have been promoted from Principal to Partner and received a large bonus, on top of the large pay-day the company would have reaped from claiming such significant portions of the start-up’s ownership.

Before I let my mind get carried away with what might have been, the driver calls me back to reality.

Ma’am? he asks. Clearly he’s posed a question that I’ve missed.

Sorry, I must have been lost in thought, I explain.

No worries. It’s really early, he says. I was asking which airline you were traveling today so I know which departure area to bring you to.

Oh, right. I’m flying American.

Too bad you weren’t able to get a seat on Innovation Airways. I hear it’s amazing, that you use your thumbprint for everything! Your favorite channels programmed to the TV, music and movies and pictures synched to your iTunes account, snack preferences…everything! he exclaims.

Sounds amazing, I reply with a bit of sarcasm, recalling my thoughts from a few moments ago. I know this man is just being nice. Hell, it’s the crack of dawn. Not to mention, I have no legitimate reason to dislike the airline. He’s probably just trying to make small talk to keep from falling asleep at the wheel. Regardless, I’m not in the mood to chat. To make it clear that I am not in the mood to continue our discussion I take out my toiletry bag of travel size containers and start applying my makeup.

Once my face is presentable I throw the bag containing my makeup into my purse and sneak one more look at my family picture as the driver pulls up to the curb. I collect my belongings, thank the driver, and quickly make my way to check in.

I’m sorry ma’am but your ticket information is not valid, says the woman behind the counter, very mater-of-fact.

I look over my itinerary with the flight details and the ticket. Everything looks good to me. I look at her puzzled and hand her the information.

Cassandra, my assistant, gave me this confirmation before I left the office yesterday. Can you double-check or give me any other information? I plead.

I must look flustered. I feel flustered.

Let me take a look, she says, rapidly typing on her keyboard. Oh, here it is. A cancelation was called in last night. The notes from the ticket agent say that a Ms. Cassandra Evans canceled due to changing flights to another airline. Your account was credited $389.00, which is the cost of your original ticket minus the cancelation fee, she states.

Does it say what airline? I ask, hoping for a few more details so I can figure out my next move.

I’m sorry, ma’am, it doesn’t, she says watching me, as disappointment and confusion no doubt register on my face. I’d be happy to help you schedule another flight if your original was canceled by mistake, but unfortunately this flight is now full. Her overly patient smile and slightly narrowed eyes indicate she is done with this interaction and wants to move on to the next customer.

Looking at my plane ticket I rack my brain for an explanation. This is so unlike Cassandra to make changes to my plans without asking me or at the very least telling me. I lift my head and look at the ticket agent, thank her for her help and step out of line into the now bustling lobby area of the airport. I find an open bench near the doors and fish my phone out of my purse to call Cassandra. To my surprise, and relief, she answers on the first ring.

Breanne, I am so sorry. You must already be at the airport, she starts in without a hello. I meant to call you before your car came this morning but I must have overslept.

I take a deep breath and sigh. Oversleeping I can relate to, I say remembering my own close call this morning. But forgetting to tell me you changed my flight to another airline when I have an early trip and not sending me the information is unacceptable, Cassandra. You know how important this meeting is.

I know, I know. I’m sorry, Cassandra says, followed by a long pause and I think I hear a sniffle. Is she seriously crying? Ugh!

Look, Cassandra, mistakes happen. What matters is how you respond to them, I say as if I’m giving her a life lesson. Tell me the flight details now while I walk to the ticket counter and then email me my electronic ticket and new itinerary. I need you to do this quickly so that I don’t miss this flight, I say this with as much patience as I can muster.

Ok. I will send you the confirmation but you don’t have an electronic ticket. It cost a little more to keep you in first class and I had to call in a favor but I was able to get you the last seat on Innovation Airways! She squeals, clearly pleased with herself. I was told that you simply need to go to the counter, give them the confirmation number and your ID. They’ll ask you to put your thumb on some sort of scanning device and you’ll be all set. This seat only became available last night and it’s the same row and seat number as your original flight so it should be easy to remember. I’m not completely sure how it works. You probably won’t have time to go online and select your preferences but I’m sure the flight back will be amazing!

Ok. Just send the confirmation info over and I’ll call you back if there are any issues, I reply, somewhat disbelieving that this will be as simple a process as she explained.

I’ll be available if you need me, Cassandra promises and I end the call.

Tired, I close my eyes and for a moment I imagine that she told me the meetings were canceled and due to the inconvenience, I should call it a day and go home. Shaking my head, I open my eyes effectively dismissing my daydream. I gather my things and head towards the counter for Innovation Airways. I’m surprised to notice that in the last 30 minutes while I was trying to get my plans straightened out the airport lobby isn’t just bustling, it’s overflowing. Where are all these people going?

There must be half a dozen TV crews from local stations near the counter I am approaching. The reporters all seem to be focused on one area but I can’t make out what that focus is through the large crowd that surrounds them. This must all be for the new airways first flight, I think, assuming it’s a pilot or some airline executive talking about how their new technology is making traveling easier and more enjoyable. I try to push my personal annoyance aside and avoid the media and onlookers to make my way to the counter.

Good morning Miss, says a peppy, wide eyed ticket agent whose smiling from ear to ear. For some reason her use of the word Miss rather than Ma’am slightly lifts my mood.

My name is Brittany and I’m excited to be the first to welcome you to Innovation Airways on this monumental occasion! Can I please have your confirmation number and ID so that we can get you comfortably settled for your flight as soon as possible?

Everything about her presence, from her shiny black hair and perfect makeup, to her warm demeanor and posture, suggests she is either an actress or that she has been training and grooming herself for this day for months. I automatically smile back in response to her contagious enthusiasm and wonder if she is truly this happy or if caffeine and Vaseline on her teeth are the real culprits. Either way, I decide her cheery disposition will help get me on the plane quickly.

I hand her my ID and tell her my confirmation number. Within a few seconds she confirms my information, scans my thumbprint and takes the suitcase I’m checking. And she smiles the entire time!

I have uploaded your thumbprint to your profile which you can access via our secure website at anytime, anywhere in the world, as long as you have an internet connection. By reviewing your flight details I see your arrangements were made last night. Since your flight leaves in 30 minutes and you still need to go through security, you may not have time to update your preferences prior to take off. However, because of our technology we have taken your demographic information from your ID and identified preferences you would likely choose yourself based on your age, geography, etc. as a starting point, she says. Once the plane has reached maximum elevation you will be able to access our system from the smart pad on the back of the chair in front of you and make preference changes in real time, she explains with enthusiasm. And because you are a first class passenger you will be allowed to board the aircraft before others. I hope you enjoy your journey to San Francisco International Airport and thank you for choosing to fly Innovation Airways. If you don’t have any questions you may head to security and then to Gate B 19.

Impressed by both the speech she’s just given without even taking a breath, and the technology the airway has to offer, I find myself momentarily excited about this trip. I politely thank her and make my way to security. Glancing at my watch I realize I only have eight minutes before they close the door to the plane when I hear my name over the PA system.

Passenger Breanne Sullivan please report to gate B19 immediately, a booming voice calls.

I wave down a TSA officer and show them my license. That’s me they are calling over the PA. I can’t miss this flight, I tell him frantically.

He looks from me to my ID, then back to me before ushering me to the front of the line. I throw my carry-on and my purse on the conveyer belt and step through the full-body scanning machine. Thanking the agent as I finish, I grab my stuff and run down the long hallway to the gate, not even bothering to put on my shoes.

I’m here. I’m passenger Breanne Sullivan! I yell as I make my way towards the ticket agent trying to catch my breath. Please let me on. I have four minutes left before you shut the door, I plead. I know that if I miss this flight the chance of me getting on another are slim to none, and the same goes for keeping my new job.

You made it just in time Ms. Sullivan. Just press your thumb here for confirmation and you can be on your way, she assures me. I do as she says and impatiently watch the small icon on the screen turn blue in acceptance.

I hope you enjoy your flight with Innovation Airways, the woman says, smiling while she gestures me towards the plane entrance.

Me too! I exclaim and make a dash down the jet way.

CHAPTER TWO

Bad Press

With arms raised above my head and eyes sealed tightly shut, I slowly arch my back and let out an exaggerated yawn while I stretch out my body. I tilt my head to the right to confirm my plan has worked…again. April, at least I think that is her name, rolls over to face me wearing nothing but a smile that extends from ear to ear. Her long, wavy blonde hair hangs perfectly over her breasts. I try to remember what they felt like last night but I was more drunk than usual. Judging by looks alone, I’m positive they’re store bought.

Good morning.

Good morning, Drew, she says, while crawling across the bed towards me.

Did you sleep well? I ask, though I don’t really care.

I did. I am very well rested, she replies, suggestively raising her eyebrows and licking her lips.

On occasion I have been tempted into a double-header. Today, however, is not one of those days.

I’m glad, I respond, flashing my dimples. I wish I could tire you out again but I’ve got an endorsement obligation and I can’t be late. I stroke her hair and try to keep her at arm’s length. Should I order you some breakfast while you shower?

She closes the gap between us and presses her body against mine. Her face is less than an inch from mine. I don’t know why I’m ever surprised by how women act. But when she licks my face from chin to ear I gasp. She mistakes my repulsion for arousal and forcefully grabs my Louisville Slugger. My mother raised me right, but this is one of those mornings when being a gentleman won’t work.

April, right? I question.

Actually, I hope I get it wrong so she knows this isn’t going anywhere. Putting my hands on her shoulders and politely pushing her back onto her knees, I create enough space between us to get out of the bed.

Last night was fun. But like I said, I need to get going. If you aren’t going to shower then I can call my car service and get you a ride home.

Oooohh! Do I get a goody bag? She squeals, literally jumping up and down while naked and clapping her hands. Holy fuck, is this chick for real? If I wasn’t hung over I might be mildly entertained. But my head is pounding and I’m getting more annoyed by the minute.

Last I checked this wasn’t a four-year-olds birthday party. So…no. There’s no goody bag.

Well one of my girlfriends got one before from- she starts pouting, but I don’t let her finish.

Clearly, I’m not him, I cut her off. I know exactly who she’s talking about but no, I’m not him. Nor, would I ever do that. This woman had three orgasms last night, courtesy of yours truly. I think I’ve already been generous enough.

She