“She said Chase’s name so many times she sounded like a commercial.”

Catherine sat back in her chair and took off her reading glasses, a clear indicator she had already tuned into Amanda’s inner turmoil. She studied Amanda, saying nothing.

“Guess I’m going to have to get used to that,” Amanda said uneasily, under the weight of her mother’s analytical gaze.

“Yes, you are,” Catherine replied astutely. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Of course not.” Amanda lifted her chin and sat up straighter in her chair. She should’ve known better than to think she could put one over on Catherine Cole, not when it was one-on-one.

“That’s good, because from here on out, you’re going to be walking a tightrope.” Catherine didn’t mince words. “Your father and I were just discussing this.”

“You were?”

“He seems to think you’ve lost interest in the restaurant.”

Amanda’s instinct was to deny. She had been wavering about the Cold Creek for months. But always in the back of her mind was the feeling that her parents would view selling it as the wrong choice. A foolish choice somehow equated with giving up all her rights and independence. And a slight against all they had done for her.

“We’re both very proud of you.” Catherine smiled slightly at Amanda from across the table.

“Maybe that’s why I feel so torn,” Amanda told her honestly. You didn’t hide things from Catherine. She was an expert at getting to the truth.

“We were proud of you long before you started a business,” Catherine said before leaning both her elbows on the table. “It’s not easy being the wife of a successful man. Sometimes you feel as though you’re lost in the shuffle. He gets all the accolades, but you deserve them, too. Behind every great man is usually someone who bolstered his ego when he needed it, watched him struggle in his rise to the top, often picking up the slack. When you’re a wife that falls to you, often while having to multitask if you want to pursue your own ambitions.”

Amanda listened quietly, folding her hands in her lap.

“But if you’re partners with someone you love, you don’t really mind. Both of you know you share the glory. After your father was appointed to the bench, he made sure he did everything in his power to support me in return. My success gave him the opportunity to reassess what he wanted from his own life. And now the cycle begins again. If he makes this senate run, I’ll be the one standing beside him, doing my best to convince everyone I can that he’s the right candidate.”

“So you really can have both?” Amanda asked.

Catherine smiled. “You certainly can if that’s what you want.”

And in that one sentence, Catherine summed up the root of Amanda’s problem. She didn’t want both, but was scared if she picked one, it would look like she was throwing away the other. “What if all I want is to be with Chase?”

“I would say he’s a nice something to want.” Catherine laughed a little.

Amanda grinned. “I get the feeling being his wife is going to be a full-time job.”

“Then make sure you do it to the best of your ability. We’re very fond of Chase, Amanda. But this has to be what you want. He won’t always be as prominent as he is now. And both your dad and I have the feeling his happiness is directly tied to yours.”

“Sometimes the attention he gets is overwhelming,” Amanda confessed.

“You can handle it. I raised you to be a strong woman,” her mother told her confidently.

Amanda nodded her head and held back the giggle, wondering just what her mother would think if the strong woman she raised found some of her greatest pleasure in being spanked like a bad girl.


THE COLES WERE CORRECT IN their assessment of Chase. He wore his devotion to Amanda like a heart on his sleeve, sort of. Not quite as bizarre as his staunch refusals to even discuss a prenup, but close.

“What the hell is that?” Troy asked him in the locker room one evening in late August.

Chase quickly finished pulling down the undershirt he was in the process of putting on and muttered, “Shit.”

“You got inked.” A Southern boy’s translation for you fucking hypocrite.

Chase was one of the last men standing in the locker room when it came to getting a tattoo. He steadfastly maintained he didn’t personally have anything against them, except when it came to his person. He admired them on other players, but when it was suggested, Chase would laugh it off, promising that after he got his first surgery scar he’d think about it. The general consensus was he didn’t get one because he thought he was so damn fly, he’d consider it a blemish. Or he was a wuss that couldn’t take the pain.

“What of it?” Chase tried to sound confrontational, but it wasn’t in his nature. He had gotten it in a spot that wasn’t conspicuous, and with a few minor adjustments was able to keep it hidden for several days. He had gotten careless.

“Come on, man, you gotta let me see it,” Troy pressed, determined to get a good look.

Chase rolled his eyes and lifted his right arm up, dragging his undershirt with it. It was along the top of his rib cage, hard to spot with his huge bicep covering it if you weren’t looking for it. It just happened to catch Troy’s eye when Chase was getting dressed. Troy leaned in closer, confounded and amazed, not quite sure what he was seeing or how to react.

It was a peppermint stick, like you’d hang on a Christmas tree. At the top of it, where it curved to make the hook, were big blue Sailor Moon eyes and a full black mane that flowed to the middle of the stick part. The tip was made to look like a pert little nose and there were full, pouty lips to match. It actually sort of looked like her.

“It’s really three-dimensional. I don’t get it.” Chase was sure Troy said it to force him into an explanation. Chase rolled his eyes again. As soon as he answered, the entire locker room would know that he was completely whipped. It was something he considered before having it put there, but it didn’t change his decision. He didn’t care who knew how much he was in love. One way or another, he was about to take some ribbing.

“It’s a Mandy-Cane,” he said in the deepest voice he possessed, then blew it by blurting, “The sweetest candy on God’s green earth.”

Troy looked from the tattoo up to Chase’s face, then back to the tat one more time, before standing and taking a few steps to create a healthy distance between them.

“Dude, I’m embarrassed for having just heard that,” Troy said, like he might actually cut Chase some slack and keep his discovery to himself out of pity if nothing else. He raised an eyebrow and, keeping one eye on Chase in case he was about to get tackled, Troy announced to everyone within shouting distance, “Guys, look who finally got a tattoo!”

Most of their teammates wandered over to have a look. Opinions on its placement ranged from Chase wasn’t willing to completely abandon his playboy status and didn’t want to advertise by getting it on his bicep, to it looked like something a chick would get, like a Hello Kitty caricature.

All were in agreement that it was the corniest shit they had ever seen, because guys are like that.

Chase grinned, trying to keep his machismo from a full frontal assault and let them all speculate, wondering what kind of abuse he’d take if they knew it was placed there so she would always be close to his heart and secure under his arm, forever protected.

Amanda was waiting for him outside the locker room and together they went up to the clubhouse because Chase had been asked to mingle with some Japanese dignitaries and representatives from Nippon Professional Baseball, Japan’s major league. It was a request specifically made to Chase in the hopes of ensuring the Kings’ acquisition of Makoto Araki, currently Japan’s brightest shining star. They ended up having dinner with them and the Kings’ general manager, and it was several hours later before Chase felt for his car keys and remembered he’d left them in his locker after leaving in a hurry to escape the tattoo ruckus. He had dismissed his security detail since he wasn’t planning to drink at dinner, so together he and Amanda strolled leisurely down the long tunnel to the locker room, hand in hand. She could never believe the difference in the sound level of the stadium after everyone was gone, the cheering done for the day, the music and vending stopped. It seemed unnatural, yet she didn’t mind the quiet. He retrieved his keys and they slowly made their way back through the tunnel, out to the parking lot. The place was all but deserted, and Chase seemed pensive and thoughtful.

“Those guys from Japan seemed really serious,” Chase mused, breaking the silence.

“How could you tell?” she asked teasingly. “They spent most of the time speaking to each other in Japanese. And sorry about the jeans. If you’d told me we were going out for dinner, I would’ve worn something dressier.”

“That kid really knows how to hit,” Chase thought out loud. “And he plays first base.”

“Do I detect some sibling rivalry?” Amanda said, sensing a disturbance in his force. For the first time since his slump, he was voicing insecurity about his career. And he didn’t use the mention of her jeans to make a smexy remark.

“Sure, they say they want to use him at third,” Chase continued to grumble, not even hearing her. “But once he’s on the field, there isn’t a damn thing anyone can do about it.”

“Why do you care where they use him? They could play you in the parking lot and you’d still be able to make the throw out at home,” she said, trying to stroke his ego and thinking she’d done a good job, if she could be sure he was listening to her.