Jake Lawrence, Third Base (Bottom of the Ninth #3) Read online

  Jake Lawrence, Third Base

  (Bottom of the Ninth, Book 3)

  Jean C. Joachim

  Moonlight Books

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  A Moonlight Books Novel

  Sensual Romance

  Jake Lawrence, Third Base

  Bottom of the Ninth series

  Copyright © 2017 Jean C. Joachim

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-945360-25-1

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Cover Photographer: Kristi Hosier - Photography

  Cover Model: Eric Emerick

  Edited by Sherri Good

  Proofread by Renee Waring

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2017 by Moonlight Books

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Moonlight Books

  Dedication

  To great baseball players, from the Little League to the Major Leagues, who made me fall in love with the game.

  Special Dedication

  To the late Marilyn Reisse Lee,

  my dearest friend.

  Acknowledgment

  Thank you for your support:

  Sherri Good, my editor, Renee Waring, my proofreader, Kathleen Ball, Vicki Locey, Diana Finegold, David Joachim, Steve Joachim, and Larry Joachim.

  Books by Jean C. Joachim

  BOTTOM OF THE NINTH

  DAN ALEXANDER, PITCHER

  MATT JACKSON, CATCHER

  JAKE LAWRENCE, THIRD BASEMAN

  NAT OWEN, FIRST BASE (Coming)

  BOBBY HERNANDEZ, SECOND BASE (Coming)

  SKIP QUINCY, SHORTSTOP (Coming)

  FIRST & TEN SERIES

  GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK

  GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK (EDIZIONE ITALIANA)

  BUDDY CARRUTHERS, WIDE RECEIVER

  PETE SEBASTIAN, COACH

  DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK

  SLY “BULLHORN” BRODSKY, OFFENSIVE LINE

  AL “TRUNK” MAHONEY, DEFENSIVE LINE

  HARLEY BRENNAN, RUNNING BACK

  OVERTIME, THE FINAL TOUCHDOWN

  A KING’S CHRISTMAS

  TUFFER’S CHRISTMAS WISH (Short Story)

  THE MANHATTAN DINNER CLUB

  RESCUE MY HEART

  SEDUCING HIS HEART

  SHINE YOUR LOVE ON ME

  TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE

  HOLLYWOOD HEARTS SERIES

  IF I LOVED YOU

  RED CARPET ROMANCE

  MEMORIES OF LOVE

  MOVIE LOVERS

  LOVE’S LAST CHANCE

  LOVERS & LIARS

  HIS LEADING LADY (Series Starter)

  NOW AND FOREVER SERIES

  NOW AND FOREVER 1, A LOVE STORY

  NOW AND FOREVER 2, THE BOOK OF DANNY

  NOW AND FOREVER 3, BLIND LOVE

  NOW AND FOREVER 4, THE RENOVATED HEART

  NOW AND FOREVER 5, LOVE’S JOURNEY

  NOW AND FOREVER, CALLIE’S STORY (prequel)

  MOONLIGHT SERIES

  SUNNY DAYS, MOONLIT NIGHTS

  APRIL’S KISS IN THE MOONLIGHT

  UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON

  MOONLIGHT & ROSES (prequel)

  LOST & FOUND SERIES

  LOVE, LOST AND FOUND

  DANGEROUS LOVE, LOST AND FOUND

  NEW YORK NIGHTS NOVELS

  THE MARRIAGE LIST

  THE LOVE LIST

  THE DATING LIST

  SHORT STORIES

  SWEET LOVE REMEMBERED

  THE SECOND-PLACE HEART (Coming)

  THE HOUSE-SITTER’S CHRISTMAS

  Chapter One

  With a breeze ruffling his hair, and Dolly Parton blasting from the CD player, Jake Lawrence eased his foot down on the gas until his brand-new, platinum Lexus GS F sedan hit eighty. Leaving California behind, he zoomed down the Arizona highway seeking adventure.

  Resurrecting a lifelong dream of driving across the country, he jumped at the chance to take delivery of his new car in Los Angeles instead of New York. He’d begged the manager of the New York Nighthawks, Cal Crawley, to let him out of spring training early for the trip.

  Singing along with his favorite country music singer, he raised his voice full blast to the tune of Here You Come Again. The lyrics heated his blood. The third baseman’s rich girlfriend, Angela Carpenter, was off to Europe for three months and he didn’t give a damn. He was ready to trade her in for a newer, hotter model.

  It was time he got what he needed when he needed it in the bedroom. Nope, his high society chick had made headlines in the papers but fell short on passion. And Jake Lawrence, slugger extraordinaire, was definitely a passionate man. Her society gossip and endless dress-up charity events bored him to tears. She never came to a game, either, a serious strike against her.

  He stretched his shoulders, feeling unfettered. Freedom! Excitement churned in his belly as the vast road heading East would take him places he’d never been. Hell, he’d be traveling twenty-eight hundred miles and was sure to see new sites and meet some new chicks. Road trip sex? Why not? With his looks and build, he’d never had trouble picking up women.

  He grinned, up for anything that came along. As long as he got home in time for practice before opening day, he was good. He and his father had mapped out a route the night before. All he needed to do was about two hundred miles a day to make it on time.

  In his new car, driving for three hours each day would be a pleasure. He admired the dark red interior and ran his palm over the dashboard. He’d have to figure out all the dials and gizmos. But hey, that’s what nights without a woman warming his bed were for, reading the manual.

  Thinking back on the last season, he didn’t mind losing out on Nighthawks MVP to Matt Jackson. After all, Jake had won it two years ago. Matt deserved it. He’d had a hell of a year and pulled it together for the team during the series.

  Jake still owned the fourth slot in the batting lineup, and that’s all he cared about. His dad had nicknamed him “slugger” when Jake was ten and played in Little League. He’d been a star from the get-go. Now, at twenty-nine, he was in his prime, his bat ruining the ERA’s of some of the best pitchers in the league. Jake had never met the pitch he couldn’t hit.

  He loved the tune Nine to Five and when it came on, he raised his voice again. Along with baseball, Jake had studied music. His mom had wanted him to be a concert pianist. He had the hands for it but not the
discipline.

  When it was time to practice piano, Jake would be out swinging his bat with his father. But his mother had instilled a love of music in him. They’d go caroling at Christmas time and Jake sang in the choir until he got to high school. His tomcatting ways made his participation in church activities a bit embarrassing.

  He loved to sing. Sang in the shower at home and in the locker room. The guys liked his voice and most encouraged him, when they weren’t ragging on him, calling him “Opera Man”, even though he didn’t fancy opera.

  Dan Alexander, the star pitcher, said it saved buying a radio. The third baseman loved classic country music best, The Oak Ridge Boys, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and was good at imitating some of them. One year at Christmas, he found a cowboy hat hanging on his locker. No one claimed the prank, but Matt Jackson had laughed the loudest when Jake discovered it.

  When the album finished, he punched up his speakerphone and dialed his father.

  “How’s it going?” His old man asked.

  “Like a dream. Wish you were with me, Dad. This baby rides like nothing. Amazing.”

  “Wish I was, too, son. You’ve worked hard for it. Enjoy yourself, but drive careful. Not over seventy.”

  Jake glanced at the speedometer which read eighty-two. “I hear ya, Pop. I’ll be careful.”

  “Good.”

  “Give Mom a hug for me.”

  “Will do. Call if you need us. Otherwise, we’ll be watching you hit it out of the park on opening day.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too, son.”

  * * * *

  In the tiny town of Santa Juana, right off the highway in New Mexico, Kate Mackenzie searched her laptop computer.

  “It has to be here. Mom, you said you’d send it.” Kate wrapped her sweater tighter around her body against the early morning chill. The heat wasn’t working properly in her dumpy motel room. Giving up, she closed the machine and paced. She had to ante up another fifty bucks to stay the night in this fleabag joint. It was all she could afford, but now she didn’t even have that.

  She left the room and walked down the way to a large chain restaurant, Max’s. She needed food. Looking left and right, she saw nothing but highway, chain restaurants, and stores. The sky was huge and blue without a cloud, but the temperature hovered at about forty-five degrees.

  She rummaged through her purse until she located her wallet. No matter how many times she looked through it, she couldn’t scrounge up more than three dollars and fifty-six cents. She prayed it would be enough to buy breakfast. As to her next meal, well, she’d have to figure that out. She stepped up to their front door and looked at the menu. One item under four dollars. She went in and sat at the counter.

  “Coffee?” The waitress asked as she turned the cup in front of Kate right side up. The young woman put her hand over it.

  “No!” She didn’t have enough money for coffee. “I mean. Thank you, but just water, please.”

  The woman gave her a quizzical stare. Kate sensed heat in her cheeks. She’d never been this broke before and this far from home.

  “What’ll ya have?” The woman clicked the point down on her pen.

  “Uh, these little pancake rolls?”

  “How many? Six? Nine?”

  Kate licked her lips. Hunger gnawed at her belly. “Only three today. That’s two-fifty, right?”

  “Yep. Two-fifty for three.”

  “Coming right up,” the waitress said, scooping up the menu and looking hard at Kate.

  She wondered if poverty showed, like a tattoo or a stamp on your hand when you went to a dance club. She lowered her gaze to her fingers shredding the napkin.

  When the woman walked by, she stopped to pour a cup of coffee before Kate could protest.

  “Comes with the pancakes,” the waitress said, clearly lying.

  Kate was grateful. “Thank you.” She added milk and sugar, then took a sip. It tasted like heaven. Within a couple of minutes, the woman reappeared with her pancakes.

  Tears stung at the backs of her eyes when she saw how small they were.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Comes with a side of rye toast, too,” the waitress winked and shot her a sympathetic smile.

  The server’s generosity touched Kate’s heart. The tears she’d been holding back burst forth. She buried her face in a napkin. The waitress put down two tiny containers of jam and patted Kate’s arm.

  “It’s okay, honey. We’ve all been there.” Then she went away.

  Hunger trumped humiliation. She wiped her face then wolfed down the meal, including every crumb of the toast with jam. She needed all the sustenance she could get. The waitress put the check in front of her and Kate picked it up. Three dollars on the nose. She fingered the two quarters in her pocket.

  She might need one to make a phone call when her cell was cut off because she hadn’t paid the bill. She shrugged. Where could she find a pay phone, anyway? She dropped both quarters on the counter and took the bill to the register. The waitress smiled at her and pocketed the change. Kate smiled back.

  After hitting the restroom to repair her face, she returned to the motel where she wrote out a check that most probably would bounce—if her suspicions were correct about what her mother had done with the money. Kate stuffed her few belongings in her backpack and snuck out. She’d left the check on the dresser, hoping the money her mother promised to deposit in her account would clear before it hit the bank.

  Writing bad checks was against the law. The last thing she needed was to get arrested. That’d fix her career on the Broadway stage. She’d be over. The highway stretched out before her, empty and cold. She’d have to find a job waitressing for a day or two to eat. Then it would be hitchhiking to New York City, hoping she didn’t get picked up by a serial killer.

  It didn’t take long for the desk clerk to come racing out of the motel, hollering. She looked at him and took off. But where could she go?

  * * * *

  Next to driving his new car and sex, food placed high on Jake’s list of pleasurable necessities. When he hit Santa Juana, Jake’s stomach rumbled. He’d hoped he could find a little mom and pop restaurant, like there were in New York City, along his route. But he couldn’t even find a downtown area.

  The big sign of a popular steak house franchise caught his eye. A steak sandwich with fries would go down great right about now. He glanced at the clock on the dash. Only eleven. He wondered if they’d be serving lunch yet.

  His mouth started to water as the image of a huge Philly Cheese Steak flashed through his mind. Hitting the turn signal, he stepped on the brake and pulled off the highway. His eye was snagged by a pair of perfect legs and a mighty cute butt hightailing it down the service road.

  She was running at full speed not jogging, and he couldn’t figure out why. After pulling into the parking lot, he got out of the car and spied a man in hot pursuit of the cute chick. He had to know what was going on. He parked the car and followed the action.

  Sure enough, the man caught up to her. He was yelling. It appeared she was crying, but he couldn’t tell, so he moved closer. A damsel in distress, what could be more appealing? His stomach would have to wait because he needed to make sure the girl was okay.

  Sure enough, the man hit her. He slapped her across the face, then punched her in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground. Curiosity turned to anger as Jake ran over and grabbed the man’s fist.

  “What the hell? What are you doing?” His brows knit as he jerked the man’s arm behind his back and held it there.

  “This bitch owes me fifty bucks. She ran out on her bill,” he said, then spat on the ground at her feet.

  “Whoa! Wait a minute. You can’t just go hitting people, especially not women. Look what you did. She’s bleeding.”

  “Where? My face? Oh my God. My face. It’s swelling. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Your face, what do you care? You a hooker? Probably,” the desk clerk said.

  “N
o, you idiot. I’m a Broadway actress. My face is everything.” She broke down in tears.

  “Hey, hey, don’t cry. Can’t you just pay the man?”

  “I would, but I don’t have any money. My mother was supposed to transfer money I made doing a show, but it’s not in my account.”

  “Why don’t you call her? Maybe the transfer’s going through today.”

  “That’s what I hoped. I left a check in the motel room.”

  “Check. Pfui! What’s that worth? Fucking piece of paper,” the man said.

  Jake tightened his grip until the man squirmed. “Apologize to the lady.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry I hit you. Cough up what you owe me,” the clerk said, grimacing in pain as Jake twisted the man’s arm.

  She opened her phone but didn’t dial. “Phone’s dead.”

  “Use mine,” Jake said, tossing her his phone with his free hand. “And you. I should punch your lights out, but I don’t want to injure my hand for an asshole like you. Here’s your money. Don’t ever hit a woman again. And next time I see you do that, I will take you out. Count on it.”

  Jake peeled off fifty bucks and threw it on the ground. The man scooped up every dollar then shot a hostile look at Jake, who raised a fist at him. The coward jerked away, then ran back to the motel. The ballplayer turned to the young woman and handed her his handkerchief. She hit speaker on the phone so she could wipe the blood from her face.

  “Ma?”

  “That you, Kate?”

  “Yeah. Where’s the money? You were supposed to put my check for twenty-five hundred bucks in my account. Did it arrive?”

  “It did. I cashed it, just like you said.”

  “So? Where is it? Ma, I gotta eat, buy a bus ticket and stuff.”

  “Well, I thought that twenty-five hundred wasn’t very much. Since you’re going to New York City and all…”