Read A Very Daring Christmas (The Tavonesi Series Book 8) for Free Online Page B

balcony. Three floors below him, standing by the sparkling blue waters of the hotel pool and framed by lush tropical flowers in planters, Cameron stood encircled by a group of men in suits. Her arms were crossed, and as she listened to something one of the men said, she frowned. One of the other men tapped her on the arm. She backed away from his touch and frowned again. Jake fought the urge to leap over the balcony and deck the guy.
    Cameron looked up and met Jake’s gaze. She narrowed her eyes and then pointed at him and said something that made the men turn and look toward where Jake stood. He ducked into the room. The last thing he needed was to be on display half-naked for a bunch of suits. No, thanks.
    He’d have a word with Miss Kelley, yes, he would. Another word. No one used him. Not anymore. Whatever she was plotting, he wasn’t available.
    He buttoned into a crisp blue linen shirt. His phone buzzed. He wasn’t one for fancy ringtones; leave those to the guys who had signature walk-on songs at the ballpark. He fumbled around the room, searching for the damned thing. Whatever happened to the days of landlines? Of phones beside the bed that were easy to find?
    But he did like caller ID. He found the phone under the towel he’d thrown on the bed and glanced at the screen, then took the call. When his agent told him he’d been offered the multimillion-dollar contract to be the future face of Nike, Jake astonished Tony when he didn’t say no outright and instead said he’d think about it. He heard the glee in Tony’s voice. The man knew how to launch and sustain careers, and he’d been more than frustrated that Jake wouldn’t follow the tried-and-true paths to success—do the PR and all that other crap.
    He clicked off his phone.
    He could buy a lot of books and clothes and baseballs and hell, water for the kids around here with that sort of money. It wouldn’t solve the problem, but it would help.
    He dressed and then found himself staring out at the pool, where waiters hustled drinks to perfectly tanned women. Cameron and the suits were gone, but like one of those ghosts you hear about that shows up in old-fashioned photos, her image hovered. And relit his fantasy. But he had no time that evening for fantasies. He was meeting Aderro downstairs in ten minutes.
    When Jake entered the hotel bar a few minutes later, the intimately lit room was already packed with couples—vacationers out to have a good time in the warmth and buzz of the Caribbean. And there were single women too. They knew the players frequented this bar, knew there was music and drinks and the possibility of hooking up with a guy who could be a ticket to America. There were a few men on the hunt, Jake observed. A few locals mixed in with the businessmen out to have a good time with the local ladies.
    “Thirty kids this year,” Aderro crooned as Jake slid onto the leather-covered barstool next to him. “We could do more. Last year four of my boys got college scholarships.”
    He had every right to be proud, Jake thought. Every one of those boys had a better chance at making a good life for themselves and their families if they had an education to fall back on. If they didn’t make it to the majors . But no one wanted to talk about that. Dreams led. And didn’t he know.
    A band pounded out a lively Latin beat. Jake tapped his foot against the rung of the barstool, the rhythm curling into his blood, spicing the heat of the whiskey he downed in a few quick gulps. He’d heard the tune in the locker room, or maybe one like it. The Latin guys on the team always had music with them, on their earbuds or on portable speakers. He’d learned a few dance moves from them. He’d always loved dancing. Right up there with swinging the bat, running and sex.
    Aderro gestured toward a young player leading a woman onto the dance floor. “Did you see Mario’s swing yesterday?”
    “Hot bat. Needs to set up earlier and use his hands.”
    “He signed