"Oh. Right. Well, you were definitely hurting."
"You can say that again."
"How are you feeling by the way? Down there."
"Better. Thanks. I don't think I'll be up for sex anytime soon, but I'm sure I'll recover."
"Good to know." She stood. "I should get back to my parents."
He got up. "I'd like to see you again."
She frowned. "Don't feel obligated because of my mother, Tucker."
"Your mom doesn't have anything to do with why I asked to see you. I like you. I think you're interesting."
"I like you, too. But my life is crazy. I work all the time. I'm not good dating material."
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"
She shook her head. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm going to have to decline."
He nodded. "Okay. I guess I'll see you around, Aubry."
Aubry watched Tucker walk away. He really did have a wonderful ass. She smiled to herself and changed her mind about searching out her parents. She decided to linger outside for a while. She could use a quiet moment. And knowing her mother, there was a chance she'd find Aubry and not so subtly ask for an update on her and Tucker.
Not that there was a "her and Tucker," and there never would be. Her life was crazy enough without adding one of the Rivers players to her agenda.
That was never, ever going to happen. She and baseball players would never mix, despite her mother's attempts to match her up with one of the guys.
It was bad enough her father owned the team, which for years meant she had been constantly surrounded by jocks. They had too much ego, too much testosterone, too much of everything.
And dating one?
That was never going to happen.
After taking some time to enjoy the peace and quiet of the night, with the gentle sound of the party in the background, Aubry decided to search out her parents. She easily found them and wandered over to where her mother stood having a rather animated conversation with her father.
Her dad was frowning. Never a good sign. When he saw her, though, he smiled.
"Aubry. Where have you been?" he asked.
"Around."
"And where is Tucker?" her mother asked.
"He left to join his friends."
"Oh. No connection between the two of you?"
Her mother looked disappointed. "We're not going to date, Mom. I don't date baseball players. Never have and never will."
"She shouldn't be dating anyone, Helen," her father said. "Her entire life right now should be focused on medicine."
She didn't necessarily agree with her father in that respect, but for tonight, she'd allow him to push that thought.
"That's a ridiculous notion, Clyde," her mother said. "Aubry is a young, vibrant, incredibly attractive woman who just happens to be at prime dating age. This is the time she should be out finding eligible men."
"No. This is the time she should be concentrating on her career. Residency is tough, and once she's through that, she has exams and a fellowship."
Aubry loved how she was being discussed as if she wasn't present, or as if her opinion on her own life didn't matter. But she also knew her parents were both arguing for her best interests, so again . . . she'd allow it. Not that it mattered anyway. She was an adult and living on her own, and she'd do what she damn well pleased. It wasn't like either her mother or her father dictated her life. Though her father checked up on her more than she liked.
"No dating for you, young lady," her father said, pulling her against him for a gentle squeeze. "You don't need the distraction."
She'd found over the years that it was much less of a hassle to placate him than argue with him. "You got it, Dad."
Her mother just shook her head and moved off to greet other guests.
Aubry moved away, too, so she could refill her glass of wine.
It didn't matter what either of them said. She was busy with work, and wasn't interested in Tucker Cassidy, or any man for that matter.
She liked her life just fine the way it was.
Why change what worked?
IT WAS THE TOP OF THE SIXTH INNING AND TUCKER had this game in hand. The Rivers were ahead of Cincinnati by three runs. His pitch count was manageable, his curveball was working, and he was in the groove.
He felt the pitches, knew when he was in the zone and when he wasn't.
Tonight, he was in the zone. He rolled the ball around in his fingers while he took the signal from Jack Sanchez, the Rivers catcher.
Sanchez called for a fastball. That would work. The batter was down in the count, one ball to two strikes. He'd be expecting the curve, which was what Tucker had been giving him.
Ninety feet away was the third out.
Easy.
He wound up, threw the ball and the batter got a piece of it, hitting it between first and second base.
Shit.
Gavin Riley, the Rivers first baseman, fielded the ball. Tucker had already made a run off the mound, knowing he was going to have to tag the runner at first base.
It was a footrace, and they were dead even.
He made it to the first base bag a fraction of a second before the batter.
Who subsequently ran into him, then slid across his calf with his spikes.
Sonofabitch, that hurt.
They tumbled over each other, but all he heard was the umpire saying the batter was out.
He'd held on to the ball and hit the base with it in his hands before the runner. Good enough.
He got up, hobbling a little on his calf. He was fine, though, as he limped his way back to the mound.
Until the pitching coach came out, along with Sanchez.
"You're bleeding, Cassidy," the coach said.
Tucker looked down at his leg. "I am?"
"Yeah. Your uniform's torn and there's blood running down your leg."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine."
The umpire came over to take a peek. "That looks bad." He signaled for the coach and the medical personnel.
Goddammit! He was pitching a good game.
"I'm really okay."
Coach Manny Magee stepped up to the mound along with the team doc.
"Cassidy has an injury to his left calf, Coach," the umpire said.
By now, all the infielders had crowded around, plus the umpire and the pitching coach.
"I feel fine."
Phil, the team doctor, looked at his leg then at Manny. "This is going to need stitches. Cut is pretty deep."
"Your leg looks like shit, Tucker. You pitched a good game." Manny signaled to the bullpen.
Once he did that, there was no sense in arguing.
Tucker handed the ball to the coach and walked off the field. The crowd stood and cheered for him. He tipped his hat, but the bottom line was, he could have finished the game. He'd been in a comfortable pitching groove, his pitches had landed in the strike zone, and if not for that collision with the batter, who'd gouged him in the leg, the game could have ended great.
He made his way down to the locker room, where he met up with the team doc.
"Get your pants off and let's see what's going on with that leg, Tucker," Phil said.
"It's hardly even a scratch." He took off his cleats and socks, then dragged his pants off and lay on the table.
Phil cleaned out the wound, which made him wince a little.
"It's a pretty deep wound. Needs stitches just like I thought."
"Great."
"You and Green had a hell of a run-in there at first base. How do you feel?"
"I feel fine."
"You guys always say that."
They did. No one wanted to miss any games.
"I'm going to send you over to the ER for them to do a thorough exam."
Tucker sat upright. "I don't need to go to the ER."
But Phil had already written on the chart. "I'll give them a heads-up and let them know you're on your way over. I'll put a bandage on your leg. The docs there can stitch
you up. I'm a little worried about your knee."
Tucker frowned. "My knee? My knee is fine."
"Again. All you guys say that. And I saw the way you landed, then limped."
"Of course, I limped. My leg got stomped on. Come on, Phil, the game's still on."
Phil tore the form off his clipboard and handed it to him. "Off to the ER, Tucker. Your ride will be waiting for you outside."
He took the sheet from Phil and climbed back into his pants, grumbling under his breath.
He should still be out on the mound, not headed to the ER.
He was fine. Fucking fine.
And that game had been his to finish.
ONE WOULD THINK ON A WEDNESDAY NIGHT THAT THE ER would be slow.
But not tonight. So far Aubry had covered an eight-year-old's asthma attack, a suspected myocardial infarction, an automobile accident with a non-trauma injury and a drunk who'd started his happy hour very early in the day, then had spent the past three hours vomiting. Nonstop.
Typically a lot of these cases were saved for weekends.
Maybe it was a full moon or something. Either way, she'd been busy.
She liked busy. Her shift went fast when she stayed moving. The only problem was she ended up working late updating her charts.
"Dr. Ross? There's a new patient in room seven," the intake clerk told her as she stood at the counter trying to stay ahead of said charts.
Aubry reviewed the labs on the cardiac patient, ordered new drugs, then signed off and had a short conversation with the shift nurse about the patient's care before turning to the intake clerk. "What's the deal with the new patient?"
"Baseball player from the Rivers. He was injured during the game."
She nodded. "Heading there right now."
She grabbed the patient's chart and flipped through it on her way down the hall. When she scanned the name, she stalled for a second, then shook her head and resumed her walk to the examination room.
Unbelievable.
She opened the door to find Tucker Cassidy, still in uniform, sitting on the exam room table.
He was frowning, looking down at the floor. When he looked up, he smiled.
"Oh. Hey, Doc. I didn't expect to see you here tonight."
She laid the chart down on the table and grabbed exam gloves. "I don't suppose the injury is to your groin."
He laughed. "Not this time. I took a cleat to the calf at first base."
"I hate to be repetitious each time we see each other, but you're going to need to drop your pants."
He slid off the table and unbuttoned his pants. "This is getting to be a regular thing with us, Doc. I'm thinking you just want to get to the goods."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm afraid I won't be touching your penis or your testicles tonight."
"Too bad." He laid his torn, bloody pants on the table, then climbed on the table and lay on his stomach.
She removed the bandage the team doctor had applied. "Nice."
"Thanks. I try not to half-ass anything I do."
"Apparently. This will need several stitches."
"That's what Phil said. I don't know why he couldn't just stitch me up in the locker room."
"According to the notes he e-mailed over, he wanted to make sure your leg is sound and there are no other injuries, especially to your knee. Or to your head, since it appears you collided with the other player. Once I stitch this up, I'll do a more thorough examination."
He looked over his shoulder at her. "Which probably means you'll want me naked."
She couldn't help but smile at his sense of humor. "You'd like to think that, but I don't believe your full nudity will be necessary."
"Come on, Doc. I'm already pissed about not finishing the game. At least make the ER experience a fun one."
"I don't think this is the place you come to for a fun time, Tucker." She got out the suturing kit and scooted the stool across toward the table. "You'll need to lie still now while I clean and numb the area."
At least he was a good patient. He didn't complain and didn't move, allowing her to clean and suture the wound quickly. It took twelve stitches, but he was muscular and in good shape, so the injury shouldn't cause him much discomfort.
After she finished, she examined the rest of his leg. There were no other scrapes or scratches, and other than slight swelling around the wound area, she saw no further injuries to the back of his leg.
"You can roll over now."
He did, and she examined his knee, which was the area Phil was most concerned about.
"How does your knee feel?" she asked.
"It's fine. Same thing I told Phil."
She examined his knee. He had full range of motion without pain. She saw no redness or swelling.
"Can you put weight on it?"
"I walked in here just fine."
"Do that for me."
He hopped off the table and walked the circumference of the room without favoring the leg.
She also did a neurological exam to be sure he didn't exhibit signs of a head injury.
"I agree. You seem fine. But I still think we'll get an X-ray of your leg and knee, just to be on the safe side."
"That's a waste of time."
She lifted her gaze to his. "Remind me again--which one of us is the doctor?"
He shrugged. "Whatever you want."
She wrote the orders. "Wait here and someone will be in to take you to X-ray."
She closed the file, then started for the door.
"Wait. You're not staying here with me?"
She turned to face him. "I have other patients, Tucker."
"Sure. Right. You do. See you later, Doc."
Aubry sensed something bothered him, but it wasn't physical. She was waiting on labs for one patient, discharge papers on another. She had a few minutes, and her staff knew where she was if something came up. She leaned against the door. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"
"No." He waited a few seconds, then asked, "Did you watch the game tonight?"
"I'm working, as you can see."
"Game was on in the waiting room when I came in."
"I don't work in the waiting room. Besides, I don't watch baseball."
She tried not to laugh at his horrified expression.
"How the hell can you not watch baseball? Your dad owns the team."
"Which doesn't mean I'm required to like baseball."
"I have to say, I'm really disappointed in you, Aubry."
"I'll try to get through the rest of my life with your disappointment."
"Okay, but, can I head out to the waiting room to watch the game? I don't know what's going on."
She looked down at him, trying very hard not to appreciate his very fine thighs, or what was going on between them. "In your underwear?"
He rolled his eyes. "I'd put my pants back on first."
"How about I put a rush on the X-ray, then you can get back to the game."
He heaved a heavy sigh. "Fine."
She left the room, handed off the paperwork and ordered the X-ray, then went to check on her other patients. In the meantime, several other patients came in so it was an hour or so before she made her way back to check on Tucker. His films were ready, so she took a look, then went back into the room.
Tucker wasn't in there. She had a pretty good idea where she'd find him.
The admissions area wasn't full, but the television was on, and there was Tucker, sitting with a group of what Aubry could only assume were fans, since they had grouped around him like he was the freaking Dalai Lama or something.
He was watching television. The other people in the waiting room weren't watching television. They were ogling Tucker, especially the young, extremely attractive woman sitting behind him who looked like she was seconds away from running her fingers through his hair. Or possibly hurdling the chairs and climbing onto his lap.
No way. Not on her shift. Besides, there were kids in the waiting room.
She headed tha
t way and stepped in front of him.
"Tucker, I have your X-ray results."
He looked up at her. "Okay, great. Gotta go, folks. Thanks for keeping me company."
"Bye, Tucker," one of the kids said. "I hope your leg isn't too bad. I hope you don't miss your next spot in the rotation."
"Not gonna happen," Tucker said, bending over to shake the boy's hand. "And I hope your tonsils are going to be okay, too."
"Mom says they gotta come out. Does it hurt?"
"For a few days. But you get ice cream. Come on--how bad is that?"
The boy grinned.
Tucker stepped beside her as she led him down the hall and back to the exam room. "We won."
"You've made my entire night with that news."
"Yeah, I can tell."
She closed the door behind her. "Take a seat."
"Okay." He scooted back up on the table.
"You were supposed to stay in here."
"I got bored. And you know, the game."
"Uh-huh. Anyway, your X-rays are clear."
"As I knew they'd be. It's just a cut on my leg. I'm fine."
"You will be. Keep the wound dry for the next several days. Your team doctor can remove the stitches after a week. Try not to do anything to pull the stitches out."
"But I can pitch, right?"
"Yes. You can pitch."
He hopped off the table. "All right then. So I can go now?"
"Yes, you can go now. Stop at the front desk where you can pick up your release paperwork."
"Great. Thanks, Doc."
"You're welcome. Try to avoid getting hurt again."
He leaned against the table and crossed his arms, giving her a smile that did strange things to all her feminine parts. "Trust me. I'm not doing it on purpose. I could have finished the game. I was pitching like a superstar, you know."
"So modest, you athletes."
"I take it you don't like baseball players."
She was making notes in the chart, so she looked up at him. "I have nothing against athletes."
"I sense a 'but' in there."
"I really have to go."
"So if I asked you out, you'd say no because you aren't attracted to me."
She'd have to be dead not to find him attractive. He was tall, with thick black hair. His eyes alone could compel any woman to drop her panties, and the dark glasses gave him that Clark Kent/Superman vibe that definitely gave her the quivers in all the right places. She'd seen more of his body than she had a right to, considering they weren't sleeping together, and the parts she had seen?
A-number-one amazing.
The fact he was an athlete? That did nothing for her.
"My dad bought the team when I was little. I've been around guys like you my whole life. I'm over the whole 'jock-and-awe' thing."