Holiday Home Run - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,1
Youth Association had ever held. If that meant dealing with yet another baseball player, one whose mere name caused grown women to swoon and whose career stats drove grown men to envy, she’d keep her personal qualms to herself and “just do it.”
She’d dealt with big-name players in the past. Many whose big bank accounts and prowess both on and off the field created inflated egos that left much to be desired.
Down the hallway, the elevator doors dinged.
Carol visibly shivered with glee. The young intern patted her long blond hair, then ran a jittery hand down her wool skirt.
“How do I look?” she stage-whispered from her perch near the glass door.
Julia pushed back her rolling chair, rising to stand at her place at the long conference table. “You look fine. What’s the big deal?”
“What’s the big . . . ? Um, it’s Ben Thomas.”
If Carol’s bug-eyed expression didn’t scream “What’s wrong with you?” her outstretched hands certainly did. “Chicago’s most eligible bachelor? Probably the best baseball player who’s ever lived?”
“Bueno, I’d have to counter that last statement,” Julia answered, holding up a hand to stall the girl’s rant. “But no matter what, I’ll tell you this—”
She broke off as Laura Taylor and several others came into view through the glass conference room walls. Standing a full head taller than everyone else was Ben Thomas.
Even though he was dressed in a navy, ribbed turtleneck sweater to ward off the mid-November chill, rather than a baseball uniform and cap, she immediately recognized his square jaw, straight nose, and piercing blue eyes.
Not because she was a groupie. Por favor, no.
More so because her youngest brother Martín had the guy’s rookie season baseball card stuck on the wall over his bed. Martín’s main goal in life was to pitch as well as Ben did. Or rather, as well as Ben had before injuries took him out of the game way too soon.
Ben had been a pitching phenom. One for the record books. Every baseball executive had clamored to get his arm on their team. Players had raved about his leadership in the dugout and the locker room. His coaches and managers always wanted him in the game. That desire to have him deliver on the mound had led to him blowing out his arm. Needlessly, if you asked her.
However, pitching phenom or not, to her, Ben Thomas was simply the emcee of the Holiday Soiree that could be her ticket off the Island and a huge help to setting her on her way to starting her own independent life. Nothing more.
Admittedly he was definitely a papi chulo, as her cousin Lilí liked to say when describing a hot guy. But Julia wasn’t in the market for a guy. Not right now anyway.
“Tell me what?” Carol prodded.
Straightening her shoulders, Julia looked her new friend in the eye, hoping to calm Carol’s nerves. “Remember this, famous pitcher or not, Benjamin Thomas puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us.”
Carol’s brows dipped together in a deep frown that matched her perplexed, “Huh?”
Julia laughed, the sound louder than she intended. It drew the attention of Laura Taylor, the five other committee members, and Ben Thomas as they entered the room.
Ben’s gaze caught Julia’s. A twinkle shone in the blue depths of his eyes, a sexy grin tugging up the corners of his full mouth.
She sucked in a quick breath, cutting off her laugh.
Ay Dios mío, that grin, in person, was far more enticing than when seen on the television screen or in the sports section of the newspaper.
As the other committee members found their seats, Ben strode forward to drape a light jacket over the back of a chair. Dark jeans hugged his strong legs. A pair of brown lace-up leather boots and the light scruff dusting his cheeks gave him a rugged look he wore far too well.
Laura began the introductions with Carol, who had remained near the door, her awe obvious in her stuttered greeting. The poor girl’s cheeks flamed as she stumbled over her own name.
“Pleased to meet you,” Ben said, inadvertently worsening the fan-worshipping Carol seemed unable to control.
“S-same to you,” she murmured around the hint of a giggle.
“Carol’s a student at DePaul,” Laura said. “She’s interning with us for the semester and is a marvelous addition to our team.”
Julia admired how Laura, half of one of Chicago’s most respected power couples, managed to maintain a regal, unflappable manner while making everyone around her feel comfortable and