Love on Deck

By Rebecca Grace

"Women don't belong on the baseball field. " That's the way handsome, playboy manager Sam Lucero thinks, but just try telling that to Amber Morales—she wants to be a baseball radio announcer. But she wants no part of a macho ex-jock who is trying to tell her what she can and can't do. But while they may be striking out on the field, their hearts are hitting a grand slam in the bedroom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781590882917

Book preview

Reviewers Praise Rebecca’s

First Wings Novel

Love On Deck

...a book not to be missed. LOVE ON DECK is a fun and exciting read... This is the first romance Rebecca Martinez has written with Wings ePress and with her refreshing story line and incredible writing ability, she is sure to go far. —4 Blue Ribbons

—Dina Smith,

Romance Junkies.com

LOVE ON DECK is a modern story where the characters come alive with the believable interplay and dialogue... This very original story will captive readers with its consistent characters and well developed plot.—...a fun and moving story... 4 ½ stars

—Amelia Richards,

Cataromance Reviews

Though I am not a huge baseball fan—football is more my thing—Rebecca Martinez bats contemporary romance out of the park in her new one, LOVE ON DECK... 4 Roses

—Shannon

romancereaderatheart.com

Reviewers praise first novel Love On Deck.

...a refreshing story with characters whose chemistry ignites sparks. 4 Stars

—Tanya Kacik

Romantic Times

Love On Deck

Rebecca Martinez

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Contemporary Romance Novel

Edited by: Lorraine Stephens

Copy Edited by: Leslie Hodges

Senior Editor: Anita York

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Artist: Christine Poe

All rights reserved

NAMES, CHARACTERS AND incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Copyright © 2004 by Rebecca Martinez

ISBN: 978-1-59088-291-7

Published by Wings ePress, Inc.

Wings ePress Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS  67114

Dedication

To my sister Lillie,

who has always believed in me,

and my brother John,

who spent all those hours

enjoying baseball games with me.

One

W onderful, Amber Morales muttered as she fought the steering wheel to get her car under control. The tires skidded slightly on icy pavement as she guided her Honda around a corner, eyes darting from side to side, in search of a parking spot. She disliked driving in downtown Denver at the peak of rush hour, especially in the dead of winter. To make matters worse, a slow, steady snowfall lowered visibility and turned the streets hazardous.

She should have told Martha she would pick her up at the corner instead of agreeing to meet at her roommate’s downtown office. Martha Grimes had been very mysterious when she issued the invitation for a drink after work, saying only she had something important to discuss privately with Amber. The secrecy was enough to convince Amber to drive downtown at her most hated time. She was beginning to have second thoughts. This better not be an attempt to set her up with someone again. Ever since Amber broke up with her boyfriend a month ago, her roommates kept introducing her to new men or trying to get Amber to reconcile with Peter Arnold. Her heart skipped. Martha wasn’t trying to arrange a meeting, was she? Was that why she suggested Amber come to the offices of the Denver Generals, where both Martha and Peter worked?

In the middle of the block, a car edged out of a spot, and Amber hastily maneuvered her Honda left across the slushy one-way street. After checking the street behind her, she eased her car into the spot. Only then did she notice the other car in front of the spot. It was backing up, and the driver was signaling as though intending to park there. Guilt pricked at her, but only momentarily. The car shouldn’t have been so far forward.

A blast of frigid air struck Amber with the force of a stinging slap as she opened her door. Pulling her down ski jacket around her and zipping it up, she climbed out. The other car had not moved, and the window slid down. A pair of fierce, dark eyes targeted Amber with a glare as frosty as the afternoon snow.

Hey, lady, I was waiting for that. Frustration filled the gruff voice.

You should have signaled, Amber called, but she didn’t know if his light had been blinking the entire time. She had not seen him. Her mind was elsewhere. All the same, she was not giving up the spot—not after circling the block four times herself. The obscenity he hurled at her only made Amber more determined not to move.

Offhandedly, she tossed a similar epithet back at him and spun away. She wasn’t getting into a street confrontation over a lousy parking spot. Let him sit there all afternoon if he was going to be rude.

Her mind was still on the disagreement as she stepped into the warm office building. A sliver of guilt nagged at her. Maybe the man was in the right. If he hadn’t yelled, she might have let him have the parking spot. Oh well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She punched the elevator button for the fifth floor.

Silence greeted Amber as she stepped from the elevator on the fifth floor. The offices for the Denver Generals were normally crowded and noisy. The Generals were the city’s major league baseball team, but few people were working the week before Christmas. Even the receptionist’s chair was empty.

Amber made her way through the maze of cubicles, many of them festooned with red and blue pennants or painted with the red and blue letters D and G looped together in script. The logo was repeated on posters along the walls. She barely noticed any of it. Her eyes slid furtively around the corners of the room, fearing Peter might leap out of a cubicle at any second. She did not want to see him if this was a set up, and if it wasn’t, she didn’t want Peter to think she initiated the visit to look for him. Luckily she saw no sign of Peter as she approached Martha’s desk, where the slim blonde stared at a computer screen.

Are you almost ready to go? Amber asked. She didn’t want to be in the office any longer than necessary.

One minute. Martha waved at a blue vinyl chair beside her desk, and gave Amber a big smile.

Amber shrugged out of her down jacket and set it on the back of the chair. Nervously she scanned the room for any sign of Peter.

Check this out while you wait, Martha suggested, holding out a yellow slip of paper before turning her attention back to the computer screen on her desk.

Perching gingerly on the chair, Amber read the sheet. Her pulse quickened. It was a job notice, but not just any notice. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Martha was no longer looking at the monitor. Amber could feel her friend’s eyes fixed on her as she re-read the notice.

Wanted: Radio play by play announcer for the Colorado Springs Stars. Degree in broadcasting or communications preferred, but not necessary. 3-4 years experience in news or sports broadcasting. Must know minor and major league baseball rules and history. Must be willing to travel for ten months of the year. Women and Minorities are encouraged to apply.

What do you think? Martha asked, an anxious note creeping into her voice.

Amber jerked her head up from the paper to her friend’s eager face. An expectant look made Martha’s blue eyes larger than normal. Amber hesitated, catching a stray lock of auburn hair and tucking it back under her knit cap.

I don’t know, Amber said slowly. Why?

I think you should apply for that job. Martha’s words were soft but firm.

What? Amber’s reply came out as a near yelp. Me? This was why Martha dragged her downtown? Both women were avid baseball fans, but the suggestion was shocking.

Amber Morales. Ever since I met you, you’ve talked about how much you’d love to work in baseball. Didn’t you tell me that back when we were college freshmen?

That was almost ten years ago, Amber acknowledged with a slight smile. The first year of college and exchanging future dreams with her vivacious blonde roommate seemed very far away.

But it was what you wanted. It was why you went into journalism in the first place.

I was going to be a sportswriter, Amber reminded her friend.

And you got sidetracked by broadcasting. So what? Now you’re a radio reporter.

"News reporter, Amber said in a firm manner. I haven’t done sports in years."

You did that radio sports show in college.

That was a gimmick more than anything, she argued.

Amber! Martha shook her head and sighed loudly.

Amber looked down and tugged at her leather gloves which protruded from the pocket of her jacket. She could visualize the unhappy look on Martha’s pretty face without seeing it. As baseball fans, their college dream had been to get a job in the game. Amber’s father was an ex-major league player, so it should have been easier for her, but Martha ended up with the baseball job. After interning in the Generals’ marketing division, she was hired as an assistant after graduation. Martha performed mainly clerical duties, but she loved her work.

The game was still important to Amber. She followed the annual pennant races closely and remained a trivia buff, but her career took a different direction. Starting at the bottom of a radio news operation, gradually she worked her way up to a full time news reporting slot.

I have an idea. Why don’t you talk to Butch? See what he says, Martha offered.

Amber glanced up in surprise. Butch is here?

I didn’t expect it, but he got in this morning, Martha replied with a wide smile that lit up her pretty face.

That changed things. Butch was manager of the Denver Generals, and he and Martha had been dating for the past two years. If Butch was in town, there would be no evening drink. He lived in California in the off season, and Martha hadn’t seen him in two months. She would want to be alone with him.

I thought he wasn’t coming until after Christmas, Amber said.

He wasn’t. Martha’s pale cheeks blushed slightly with pleasure. I think he missed me, though he says he came early to attend the Generals’ Christmas party Saturday night. He brought a friend, so we’ll be entertaining. Do you want to go to the party with us?

Amber drew up sharply. So it was not just the job posting that Martha had in mind when she asked Amber to meet her downtown. It was a set up for a blind date with Butch’s friend.

Not me. I’m going home for the holidays.

All the way across town, Martha said with a shake of her blonde curls.

"I know, but I promised to spend time with the familia."

Amber lived in a big Victorian house with Martha and three other women near downtown Denver. Tonight she planned to go to her mother’s home on the west edge of the city and stay for the next few days. Her brother was home from college for the holidays, and her mother had requested they all stay together, like an old fashioned family Christmas. Amber didn’t mind. Her brother attended school in southern California so she didn’t see him often.

I’ll see you later, Amber said, getting to her feet. I take it the drink tonight is out since Butch is here, and I’d rather not meet his friend. No offense but...

We can still go for a drink. You can even come to dinner if you want. I invited Kathy to keep Butch’s friend company.

Amber made a face. She did not feel like being a fifth wheel. That’s okay. I have to drive all the way out to Mom’s. And with this snow... She gave her friend a pleading look.

I understand, but before you go, see Butch, Martha ordered. He’s in his office. I thought of you the minute I saw that job notice. You know what I heard?

What? Amber asked, glancing at the paper again.

Mr. Arnold hopes they hire a woman. He would love to hire a woman as an announcer for the Denver Generals eventually, and since Colorado Springs is our minor league team, that person could train there then move here.

I don’t think it works that way.

We both know how it works. Sarcasm laced Martha’s tone. It’s who you know. And you know the Arnolds.

Amber wrinkled her nose. She hated that subject. I dated Peter for four years, and in that time I talked to his father four times. I don’t think Mr. Arnold ever liked me. Too goofy. She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue for effect.

It’s too bad you can’t talk to Peter, Martha suggested.

I won’t, Amber said abruptly, shaking her head. He’s probably dating some society girl by now. A woman in his social circle. A woman.... Oh, hell. She stopped. She didn’t like the bitter note that crept into her voice. Peter was gone, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Forget Peter then. Talk to Butch, Martha urged. He’s in his office reading his mail.

Amber got slowly to her feet, the clipping still in her hand. Can I make a copy of this? she asked. Martha nodded vigorously, visibly pleased that her friend was taking the thought seriously. Amber’s stomach tightened with excitement. This type of job was something she desired during her childhood. She hadn’t considered such a thing in years.

Sudden questions assailed her. Was it possible? Could she get the job? Should she even go after it? What would Peter say? His father owned the Generals and would have a say in the hiring. Unfortunately, she feared she already knew what her ex-boyfriend would think—another crazy idea—further proof that Amber was not right for him.

Forget the radio show, Martha called after her as Amber walked over to the copying machine. You can do this.

Amber grimaced, her back to her friend. Martha knew how disillusioning that radio show had been. It changed Amber’s dream of working in sports. Until then she wanted to be a sportswriter or sportscaster. Her own sports show on the college radio station should have been the first step, but Amber ran into opposition. There were problems with the players, fellow reporters, even the coaches. No one wanted anything to do with the girl sportscaster. The sexist attitudes were overwhelming, something Amber could not have guessed in current times. After three difficult months, the program was mercifully canceled.

The experience still haunted her, more than her friends realized. Amber Morales was well known for being spirited and determined. She sometimes took crazy risks, and that job had been a gamble. The cancellation hurt, even more so because she had nothing to do with the show’s failure. It was one of the few times Amber did not succeed in reaching an established goal.

After making her copy, Amber glanced once more at the job notice before folding it up and tucking it into her pocket. The original she returned to Martha who was now on the phone.

Go see Butch, Martha mouthed to Amber, pointing toward a corridor.

LIGHT SPILLED FROM only one door along the dim hall. In summer all the doors would be open, and enthusiastic hallway discussions of the previous night’s game or the next opponent would fill the air. Amber knocked on the door of Butch’s office, fishing the job notice out of her pocket at the same time.

Come on in, Butch’s friendly voice rang out from inside.

Amber entered cautiously, ready to bolt if she saw Peter. Butch Lassiter glanced up from his desk where small, neat stacks of mail were lined up in front of him. Tall and lanky, the manager of the Denver Generals still retained his athletic frame, though his blonde hair was thinning on top. A dazzling grin lit up the handsome face that had earned him many female fans when he was a player. He hopped to his feet and walked around the desk to greet Amber with a quick hug.

Hey, kid. Good to see you. What brings you down here?

Kid? Why did Butch insist on teasing her and treating her like a child? He was fourteen years older, but Amber was hardly a child. At twenty-seven, she and Martha were the same age.

There’s something I need to discuss with you. Do you have a sec...? Only then did Amber see the other man in the room, and she stopped. He had been lounging on the sofa along the back wall. Big and burly, the man rose like a dark giant. His thick brown hair was almost as long as hers, and the thick layer of black stubble that peppered his cheeks and chin made his deeply tanned face even darker. Amber cringed. Even though there had been some distance between them, the hard look in his fierce eyes was impossible to forget. It was the man she beat out of the parking spot downstairs.

Do you know Sam Lucero? Butch asked.

With his rich tan, the man looked as though he was spending the winter playing beach bum. He wore a thick black sweater and faded blue jeans. Standing next to him was like standing under a giant tree. Deep brown eyes glared down at her. He was obviously still angry.

This is Amber Morales, Butch told him.

Amber started to apologize to Sam, but his cold gaze stilled her tongue.

She knows me, he said coolly. She’s the one who cut me off down on the street. Shall I tell you what she called me? he asked.

Butch laughed, winking at Amber. I have a feeling I already know, he teased.

I’m sorry I called you that, Amber said, holding out her hand, ready to make peace. She hadn’t expected to see the man again or she would have kept her mouth shut. But you weren’t exactly pleasant yourself. And I really didn’t see you until I pulled into that parking place.

His large hand swallowed hers up, and his hard face softened a little. Butch says I’m too laid back. I’m not used to lady drivers being so aggressive. Do you always drive like that?

Naturally. And I wouldn’t say it’s just women drivers who are that way in Denver, she quipped.

I guess we’re more courteous in LA. Or maybe you Denver ladies are too fast for me? One dark eye fluttered in a wink.

Amber rolled her eyes slightly and drew back. Now that the anger was gone, he was flirting with her. It wasn’t something she would encourage. She wasn’t certain if it was his size or the watching eyes that now openly began to survey her, but he made Amber slightly edgy. His eyes were a very dark brown, like ultra strong black coffee, and they swept over her slowly, up and down as though assessing her female attributes.

She could imagine her appearance through his eyes. In her thick fisherman’s sweater and jeans tucked into cowboy boots, she didn’t look very feminine. Even her shoulder length hair was tucked into a knit watch cap.

This was not the way she normally dressed when she worked. The threat of snow and several outside stories had prompted the informal outfit. Amber had spent the morning with a city construction crew on pothole patrol and the afternoon at a construction site, doing a story on a major delay in a planned new shopping center. But let him think whatever he wanted about her looks. Unused to such open scrutiny, she bit back a sarcastic reply. Did he think she was the woman they were arranging for him?

What can I do for you, little Amber? Butch asked, leaning back on his black leather chair.

Amber hesitated, glancing down at the notice in her hand, uncertain if she wanted to broach her question in front of the big man. While she didn’t know Sam Lucero personally, Amber had immediately ticked off his player statistics in her head. Catcher, batted around .280 lifetime, three hundred forty-seven homeruns. Played seventeen years for Los Angeles, Seattle, Texas, and Milwaukee. Coached for Milwaukee the past two years.

Look, why don’t I get that coffee your girlfriend promised, Sam said, as though he recognized her reluctance. You want some? he asked, giving Amber another quick look.

No, thanks. I have to be going in a few minutes. She wanted Sam to know she wasn’t to be his date. She relaxed as the big man left the room, sliding onto the chair across from Butch.

What’s up? Butch asked.

She drew a deep breath and plunged into her question, holding up the job notice. Did you hear about that radio announcer’s job open in Colorado Springs?

I heard something about it. Why? A sandy eyebrow arched up, and his blue eyes grew serious.

Martha thought I should apply.

His laugh was sharp, and she started to protest, but then his smile vanished. You’re serious.

Well...yes.

Butch sat forward in his chair. You know, kid, you’ve got the facts and figures down. You’re the only person who can come close to beating me on trivia and rules. Hell, even strategy. You’ve got a good head about the game.

Amber held up her hand to stop him. I read a ‘but’ in there. What’s your hesitation?

Butch twisted his lips into a frown and cocked his head to one side. Well, you know where Davis Arnold is going with that job eventually, don’t you?

Yes, and that would be my goal, Amber announced, surprised she was admitting it to him, or that she was actually considering it herself.

I know you can be a little spitfire, and you could hang in there with the big boys on facts and figures, but do you really want to be a female announcer in major league baseball?

Why not?

That’s the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever heard.

They both jerked their heads in the direction of the protest. Sam Lucero had come back through the door, two cups of coffee swallowed by his large hands.

Why? she asked defensively, irritation grating at her.

Women don’t know baseball. His condescending tone implied everyone knew that.

I do, she said.

Really? Sam said cynically, his dark eyes drifting over her. He put one Styrofoam cup on the desk and sat on the chair beside her, much to Amber’s chagrin. He watched her closely over the top of his cup as he took a sip of coffee.

She’s pretty good, Butch said. Beats me at trivia. She knows strategy.

So what? Guys don’t want babes down on the field. Sam waved a big hand as though dismissing her and the notion.

Amber bristled. Don’t call me a babe, she said coldly.

Fine. We don’t want women on the field either, even if they don’t look or act like women. His dark eyes challenged hers over the rim of his cup.

You...you...chauvinistic Neanderthal. Amber wanted to call him something stronger, but she held her tongue. That’s so backward.

He grunted. So? There’s nothing wrong with tradition.

Amber faced this same sort of prejudice with her radio show. She didn’t want an argument before she even got the job. A sudden knock interrupted the battle.

May we come in? Martha didn’t wait for an invitation. She and their other roommate, Kathy, sailed in together. Martha’s perfect figure and pretty face always drew male notice, but Kathy could command equal attention. Her honey colored hair and warm green eyes were male magnets. Unlike Amber, she was immaculately dressed in a slim blue wool dress with a bright floral scarf that nicely displayed her feminine attributes.

Much to Amber’s surprise, Sam was immediately on his feet, waiting for an introduction. He looked over Kathy as though examining a treat, his dark eyes growing warm with appreciation.

Sorry for the mountain man look, he said, rubbing a big hand over his rough face. If I had known I was going to meet such a lovely young lady, I’d have dressed up. Butch didn’t prepare me for the beautiful girls I’ve seen in Denver so far.

Kathy gave a full-throated laugh, and Amber rolled her eyes. She didn’t have much experience with men, but she knew a line when she heard it. Kathy seemed to recognize it too, though it didn’t keep her from batting her eyes coquettishly.

And if I had known I was meeting a mountain man, I’d have worn my dance hall girl ensemble, Kathy replied coyly.

Amber was used to seeing her roommate charm men; and it didn’t surprise her Sam would fall victim to it. She was more surprised that he appeared to be as adroit at flirtation as Kathy. The pair began trading coy comments dripping with innuendo while the others listened and laughed. Except for Amber. The conversation had no appeal for her.

She glanced at her watch. She didn’t want to waste her time being a spectator to this crazy, courting ritual. Sam had been indifferent, even nasty, to her. Once he saw someone who interested him, he transformed from surly to faux suave. Amber held little regard for men who based their interest in women only on looks. Her eyes sought out Martha’s, and she murmured an apology.

I should be going, she said, glancing at the slip of paper she still held.

Come on, Kathy, Martha said quickly as though she realized Amber still wanted to talk to Butch. Let’s get our coats. Do you want to come, Sam?

In a minute, he said.

Amber sighed unhappily as the women left. She wanted to get Butch alone. She gave him a small smile.

Thanks for talking to me.

Anytime.

She gave him a nod, letting him know she wanted to try the discussion again later.

Bye, little announcer lady, Sam said sweetly.

This time Amber did let go with an obscenity.

What kind of talk is that for a lady? the big man said, clearly surprised.

Well, not only am I not a babe, I’m not a lady either, Amber retorted. At least not your kind. Standing straight and stiff, she marched out the door.

Kathy and Martha were waiting near the elevator.

I’ll see you in a few days, Amber said, still