Drive You Wild: A Love Between the Bases Novel by Jennifer Bernard Page B

don’t fall in love with me just because I’m going to feed you.”
    She put some cash on the bar and signaled to Todd. “Please bring these guys a round of Lone Stars on me.” With a grimace, she turned back to the three of them. “And don’t fall in love with me just because I’m buying you beer. I’ve been warned about both of those things, but this is strictly business.”
    With that, she disappeared into the crowd, nearly getting mowed down by Bieberman’s conga line. They all watched her go, and Shizuko let out a long sigh. “Pretty girl.”
    “Donuts,” said Dwight, with his own sigh. “And beer.”
    Trevor ground his teeth, wondering if he could get rid of the other two guys and cover the entire outfield by himself. Where that possessiveness came from, he didn’t even want to know.

Chapter 7
    T HE MAN IN the black leather blazer has Pop up against the wall. A fist at his neck. A flash of light on steel. Knife. A line of dark red seeping from the edge. Don’t, don’t. Threats spilling from the man’s maw like bats. Panic, paralysis. What to do? Phone 911. But the numbers don’t dial, the 1 keeps disappearing. Jabbing at the keys. Help, help.
    Too late. The phone is gone. The man is on the ground. Someone is shouting. Screaming. Running. But it isn’t the man. He’s a silent crumpled lump. As if he’ll never speak again.
    Trevor woke up clawing for air, his heart jackhammering. He threw the hotel sheets off his body. Heaved deep breaths into his lungs. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he dropped his head into his hands. The familiar feeling of his own hair, his own skull, grounded him. He was in Kilby, Texas. A baseball player. A grown man. Here. Now. Alone.
    When he’d gotten a grip on his heart rate, he got up and double-checked the door of the hotel room. Locked, of course, not only with the standard latch, but an extra dead bolt he’d added himself. He’d had to pay the Days Inn management for the privilege of anextra sense of security, but it was well worth it. The dead bolt didn’t keep the nightmares away, but it helped him recover more quickly.
    He checked the alarm clock on the bedside table: 5:30 am. Walked to the window and drew aside the drapes. It was just getting light outside, long fingers of pink reaching across the lower horizon. Fuck, he’d never get back to sleep now. He didn’t want to, not if it meant reliving that night again.
    In the little kitchenette, he poured himself a tall glass of water and downed it, then started the coffeemaker. Watching the drip, drip, he released the horrible aftereffects of the dream, moment by moment.
    Dream . . . no, it wasn’t just a dream. Those memories were burned into his brain forever. They would never leave him. He just had to live with it. And he’d learned how. Empty his mind. Let all emotion seep out of him. Focus his rage somewhere it couldn’t hurt anyone.
    Oh, and read. He picked up a novel from the pile on his bedside table. It didn’t matter what kind of book it was. Mysteries, thrillers, romance, science fiction . . . anything to send his mind somewhere else. Song of Ice and Fire . . . that would do the job. A thousand pages of death and destruction—exactly what he needed.
    With his coffee and his book, he lay back on his bed and escaped into a fictional world that seemed only a little over the top to him. The Iron Kingdom had nothing on Detroit.
    T he next morning at nine-fifteen—he didn’t want to seem too curious—Trevor strolled into the promotions department. A tiny woman with aggressively silver hair clapped when he walked in. “This couldn’t be more perfect,” she exclaimed. “Why did I never think of this before?”
    Wary, Trevor scanned the rest of the room, spotting Crush Taylor, Shizuko, Dwight, and, nearly dwarfed by all the big ballplayers, Paige. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she wore cowboy boots and a striped dress that ended somewhere above her knees. She looked fresh and sassy