Читать онлайн книгу «Marriage On His Mind» автора Susan Crosby
Marriage On His Mind
Susan Crosby
CINDERELLA IN WAITING With just one look Jack Stone could tell that Mickey was a princess living in a self-imposed ivory tower. But he wasn't one to let a few flights of stairs keep him from what he wanted. And he most definitely wanted the reluctant Cinderella next door. Melting her icy reserve would be his pleasure.Men had pursued Mickey before, but never with such a fervor as her enticing neighbor. How was a woman with her turbulent past supposed to resist Jack's tempting caresses? Especially when her sexy suitor began talking about marriage! Was it enough to make a girl toss her glass slipper and run for the preacher?
Exasperating Woman, He Growled, Hauling Her To Him For A Final Stormy Kiss. (#ucda1b7d9-51fe-5254-9d17-f6cfbef06d6b)Letter to Reader (#uf4848e98-476c-5d68-b259-eae603bf5efe)Title Page (#u1b87a68b-4db4-5b43-a0ce-cd5f95639f2f)About the Author (#ubf0330cb-c15f-599c-a591-2652895885d6)Dedication (#u27e6d2f0-bc0b-594e-a18e-89cc7a647b0f)Chapter One (#u556b5cbc-7834-52ea-97ea-394e7ee0c07f)Chapter Two (#u4e5d104a-9bbe-5271-8784-961411b745dc)Chapter Three (#u6f4b0365-ea12-555a-baf9-b3de150c0a36)Chapter Four (#ufdb95010-b636-5fc9-a015-bddb1d5bfab0)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Exasperating Woman, He Growled, Hauling Her To Him For A Final Stormy Kiss.
Reluctantly Jack let her go, then watched as she slowly walked away. He shook his head, irritated with himself. He wouldnt blame Mickey for shying away from him now. Hed told her they would play by her rules; then hed forced the issue when he shouldnt have. He was the one with the marriage timetable, after all.
Okay, so she hadnt resisted. Okay, so she had pushed him as much as he had pushed her. Still, it was his responsibility to be in control. A true Prince Charming would be the epitome of patience, wouldnt he? And a true Prince Charming would never lose control.
He just had to stay patient and keep control. Simple, right?
But Jack didnt think his life would ever be simple again.
Dear Reader,
The celebration of Silhouette Desires 15th anniversary continues this month! First, theres a wonderful treat in store for you as Ann Major continues her fantastic CHILDREN OF DESTINY series with Novembers MAN OF THE MONTH, Nobodys Child Not only is this the latest volume in this popular miniseries, but Ann will have a Silhouette Single Title, also part of CHILDREN OF DESTINY, in February 1998, called Secret Child Dont miss either one of these unforgettable love stories.
BJ Jamess popular BLACK WATCH series also continues with Journeys End, the latest installment in the stories of the menand the womenof the secret agency.
This wonderful lineup is completed with delicious love stories by Lass Small, Susan Crosby, Eileen Wilks and Shawna Delacorte. And next month, look for six more Silhouette Desire books, including a MAN OF THE MONTH by Dixie Browning!
Desire...its the name you can trust for dramatic, sensuous, engrossing stories written by your bestselling favorites and terrific newcomers. We guarantee handsome heroes, likable heroines...and happily-ever-after endings. So read, and enjoy!
Senior Editor
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Marriage on his Mind
Susan Crosby
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SUSAN CROSBY
is fascinated by the special and complex communication of courtship, and so she burrows in her office to dream up warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines to satisfy her own love of happy endings.
She and her husband have two grown sons and live in the Central Valley of California. She spent a mere seven-and-a-half years getting through college and finally earned a B.A. in English a few years ago. She has worked as a synchronized swimming instructor, a personnel interviewer at a toy factory and a trucking company manager. Involved for many years behind the scenes in a local community theater, she has made only one stage appearanceas the rear end of a camel! Variety, she says, makes for more interesting novels.
Readers are welcome to write to her at P.O. Box 1836, Lodi, CA 95241.
To Linda and Lee, whose friendship caught fire.
We should all be so blessed.
One
Crack!
Foul! the umpire called.
Jack Stone heaved a sigh of relief from his position at shortstop on the baseball diamond. One less catch muffed. What the hell am I doing here? he asked himself for the hundredth time. Midlife crisis, remember? his mind whispered back.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, he muttered as the pitcher tossed another softball underhanded to the batter.
Crack!
Oh, God, it was headed toward him. Please, let me catch it. Please. Otherwise, The Mouth
The ball hit the hard infield once before magically bouncing into his glove. Stunned at his luck, he stared at the white orb nestled in oiled leather until the second baseman yelled at him to throw it to first. Jack cranked up his arm and threwand missed the first baseman by six feet, the ball skittering to the fence as the runner chugged into second standing up.
Hey, Ponytail, whaddaya need, a map? a woman yelled from the stands of the small stadium hosting the mens recreational league game.
The short, neat ponytail Jack sported suddenly felt as inconspicuous as Rapunzels hair, but he wouldnt let The Mouth provoke him into cutting it, not after hed gotten it long enough to stop using gel to hold it in place. After a years time, he could finally just pull it back and fasten it.
The ponytail served as a symbol, an important one. He saw it as a sign of his new independence and a reminder to be patient with the world, and he refused to buckle under to some loudmouthed, self-appointed bleacher coach whod decided to make him her cause. This was only the fifth game of baseball hed played in twenty-two years, since being thrust into the role of provider for his seven-year-old brother, Dan, when Jack had been only seventeen himself.
He hadnt had time to play. Not just baseball, but anything. Hed been changing that, though. If only The Mouth
Strike three, youre out! the umpire called, ending the inning and Jacks mental wandering.
Sorry, he said to the first baseman as they shuffled into the screened dugout.
Turned out okay, his teammate Scott Lansing replied. They didnt get any runs out of it. That woman in the stands making you nervous?
I dont know what The Mouths making me feel. If shed yell at someone else once in a while, it probably wouldnt bother me so much. I just cant figure out why shes chosen me as her personal project. Stacy said shed try to talk to her tonight. Envy burrowed in as he watched a teammate knock the first pitch deep into left field, a skill Jack hadnt mastered yet. The woman was right about my switching positions with Drew. Im more effective at short than I was at third. I needed that extra split second of reaction time. And Ive almost gotten two hits since she told me to drop my front shoulder before I swing. I just wish shed kept on passing instructions through Stacy instead of yelling at me on the field.
I give you credit for rising to the occasion, Jack. Most guys wouldnt.
He pulled on an earlobe as his gaze wandered to where The Mouth sat. Unfortunately, shes right too often to ignore.
And you abhor mediocrity, especially in yourself.
Jack grinned as he stood and hefted a metal bat over his shoulder. Some things I cant change.
Mickey Morrison watched the man shed dubbed Ponytail stroll from the dugout to home plate. Keep your shoulder down, she ordered him telepathically as he sliced the air with the bat a couple of times. She tugged the bill of her L.A. Seagulls baseball cap a little lower on her forehead, grasped the wooden bench under her tightly with both hands and leaned forward in concentration, ignoring the person taking a seat beside her, jostling the bench.
Strike one!
Mickey groaned. Both eyes, Ponytail. Watch the ball with both eyes, she yelled at her self-appointed protg. She saw him flinch, then bear down, his lanky frame hardening visibly as he focused on her instructions.
Strike two!
Hed missed the ball by a mile, she thought, frustrated. Shed seen such potential in him. A few weeks ago hed been rawthe rookie of all rookies, doing everything wrong. But hed obviously been working hard in the interim. That pickup hed made in the field last inning proved he was keeping his eye on the ball more. Now if he would just focus as hard on the one being pitched to him.
Crack!
Mickey sprang up. Hed hit it! Hed actually hit the darn thing!
The ball caromed off an invisible divot in the field and angled past the center fielders legs.
Crank it up, Ponytail. Take second, she hollered as he hit first at full stride. She watched approvingly as he made a wide swing and pumped toward second. The outfielder snagged the errant ball, then fired it to the infield.
Slide! Slide! Mickey screamed, crouching, her arms extended in front of her as if she were on the field coaching him.
An explosion of dirt rocketed above the heads of the players near second. When the dust cleared, Ponytail lay stretched along the base line spitting dirt, his fingers digging into the base.
Out! the umpire shouted.
The call brought raucous cheers from the opposing team and supporters, and cries of outrage from those who thought Blue needed glasses. The man sprawled in the settling dust dragged himself to his knees, then uncurled slowly upward, wobbling a bit before taking a step. He brushed off his hands, Chung Lis Pizza T-shirt and filthy jeans as he started a slow jog to the dugout.
Hey, Ponytail! Real men slide feet first!
Silence descended. Shed gone too far this time. She hadnt only maligned his athletic ability but his masculinity, as well. Holding her breath, Mickey watched as he stopped, swept off his cap to whack dust against his leg, then pinned her to the bench with his direct look, his chest heaving from the exertion of the run. He changed direction and headed straight toward her, not stopping until he stood at the base of the stands, ten feet from where she sat.
Why? he queried, panting.
Mickey gulped, grateful she could read the single word on his lips, because the sound was swallowed up by her thundering pulse. Why what?
Why should I slide feet first?
The question penetrated the rhythm section in her head, and she straightened a little in relief. Shed been afraid he was asking why she was picking on him, and she didnt have an answer to that, except that she admired his gritand he seemed self-confident enough to take it. Because you can ruin your hands going head first, either by jamming them into the base or by the baseman stepping on em.
His fists propped low on his hips, the hat dangling from his little finger, he cocked his head as if considering her words. When his gazedeep blue, she noted, a nice contrast to his ebony-colored hairbored into hers, she tugged her cap down even farther.
Can you teach as well as criticize? he asked.
What?
Can you teach me to slide?
She shifted uncomfortably. I guess
Monday at six oclock, here?
Im sure many of your teammates could give you the same instructions
Im asking you.
Play ball! the umpire called.
Monday at six, he repeated, a man obviously accustomed to having orders obeyed. Be here.
Mickey watched him trot into the dugout, then make a comment to a teammate who laughed uproariously.
Well, she didnt have to obey his command, she thought militantly. She hadnt committed herself to anything. But if she didnt show up, she couldnt come to any more games, she argued with herself. And she wanted to keep coming. Needed to. She hadnt felt so alive in years. Two years, to be exact.
Hi.
At the simple greeting, Mickey turned her head toward the young woman seated beside her. She recognized her as the one shed spoken to the first game shed observed, last month when shed been in town looking for a place to rent. Always drawn to baseball games, whether professional or little league, she had found a seat and watched, then had become increasingly frustrated at the third basemans ineptness. She had sent him suggestions on how to improve, using the young woman as intermediary.
Mickey eyed her now, noting she wore a summer shift, as she always did, this one a tiny flowered print. Mickey returned the greeting, then asked, Have you been sent to question my intentions?
Howd you guess?
The male ego is a fragile thing, she said, drawing a grin and a nod from her companion.
My names Stacy.
A soft, feminine name to match her clothes and long, silky hair, Mickey thought with an inward sigh. The kind of woman every tomboy dreads. I dont have answers for you, Stacy.
Not even a name?
My name would mean nothing to him.
I see. You just dispense advice to the baseball-lorn. Sort of a Dear Yogi Berra.
Mickey smiled. Actually, this is the first time Ive given advice uninvited.
Why wont you at least tell us who you are?
Because Im trying not to lean on anyone. I need to find happiness alone, she thought. She forced herself to ignore Stacys friendly overture. Standing, she looked at the field briefly, then returned her gaze to the curious woman seated beside her. Tell Ponytail
His name is
I dont want to know his name. Just tell him to lose the jeans and buy some baseball pants by Monday.
Thats it? Thats all you could get out of her? Jack queried Stacy, his voice rising above the din at Chung Lis Pizza Parlor, where the team had gone after their losing effort. Buy some baseball pants?
Im not skilled at interrogation like you, Jack. She obviously doesnt want to make friends.
He drummed his fingers on the lacquered wood tabletop. How old is she, can you tell?
Around thirty, I guess.
Wedding ring?
Stacy smiled. No-o-o.
She uses that baseball cap like a shield over her face.
Are you asking if shes pretty?
He turned to face her directly and noted the humor sparkling in her eyes. All right. Im humbling myself. I want to know everything you can tell me.
Ive never seen her without sunglasses, but from what I can tell, shes passably attractive in that woman-jock kind of way.
Jack leaned back, resting an ankle over the opposite thigh. Youre enjoying the hell out of this, arent you, Stace?
Her glee-filled laugh made him frown.
Ive just never seen you thwarted, Stacy said, the grin not leaving her face. Or frazzled. To be honest, it fascinates me. In all the time we were married, I rarely saw you not in control. Impatient maybe, but in control. Not that I saw a whole lot of you, given your obsession with work.
Im changing, he said, gritting out the words.
Yes, you are. Okay, I can tell you this much. Her hair is almost as military short as you used to wear yours. Its kind of palomino blond, looks pretty straight around the edge of the cap. Her front teeth are white and even. I didnt ask her to open her mouth
Stacy, he warned.
Well, gosh, Jack. If Id known I was supposed to be inspecting her like a horse at auction, I would have attempted to get more information.
Do you have any idea why shes singled me out?
Could be your hunky body.
Jack snorted. Yeah. All five-eleven, one hundred and eighty pounds of me.
And shes about five-four. Perfect height difference. In bed and out, she added.
He straightened. Im not interested in her as a bed partner.
Arent you?
Im curious. And I dont like unanswered questions.
Ha! Youre attracted. Youve never been challenged by a woman before, and it intrigues the heck out of you.
He sipped from his mug of beer before responding. Maybe.
At a signal from her husband, Drew, the teams third baseman, Stacy stood. Weve got to relieve the babysitter. Good luck Monday.
Thanks. Give Dani a kiss from me.
Mickeys decision to rent the cabin she now occupied had been based on several factors, the first being the town itself, Gold Creek, which was a forty-five-minute drive from the community college where she would soon be teaching algebra. Nestled in the foothills of Northern Californias mother lode country, Gold Creek was large enough to offer reasonable anonymity and small enough to feel like a home, not just a place.
Another lure was the stream that backed the property about fifty yards from the cabin. More than a trickle, less than a fishermans paradise, its appeal lay in the soothing sounds of nature, at rest and at play. Having lived her thirty-two years in the city, the adjustment had been a challenge, especially since she couldnt hear traffic or sirens or even children playing. Her only neighbor within earshot was her landlord, who owned a huge log house just out of sight from her smaller version, his guest house.
The cabin itself shone in the natural setting like a topaz in gold. Newly remodeled by the owner, it was a house designed for easy living, amounting to a large studio apartment, with rooms hinted at by creative use of furniture or cabinets. A big pine bed sitting atop a raised platform pretended to be a bedroom, the bed cocooned by curtains on a ceiling runner, blocking it from the living quarters, although she never bothered pulling the curtains. She looked forward to winter, when she could enjoy watching the fireplace while she lay cozy in her bed. The bathroom, a rustically elegant large room containing not only a shower but a whirlpool tub as well, was tucked away on the sunset side of the building.
But the deciding factor in her choosing the cabin had been the window seat. Built into the back wall overlooking the stream and pine trees, it was a huge half circle of crystal clear glass that started two feet from the floor and ended at the ten-foot knotty pine ceiling. The pillows stacked on the oversize wooden seat invited snuggling. It had become her refuge, the place where she prepared her syllabus for class, wrote letters, daydreamed, escaped nightmares and faced her aloneness.
She burrowed there an hour after the game, watching the early-August sky darken and wondering what to do about Monday. She hadnt wanted to get involved, with anything or anyone. This would force involvement when for the first time in her life she so wanted to be wholly responsible for herself.
Shed lost so much, and she needed to be free to grieve. Shed also given up a lot to embark on this quest for self-forgiveness and acceptance.
Eyes closed, she leaned her head against the window frame and pictured the tall, dark man whose ponytail proclaimed him a rebel. She didnt want to find him attractive, or desirable, or even interestingbut hed challenged her when shed been a verbal tyrant to him, and that intrigued her.
She didnt want to be drawn to him, and she wondered how she could stop the wheels she had unintentionally set in motion.
Two
Okay, his pride was stung. He admitted that much to himself. Jack glanced at his watch again and frowned. Ten after six. Hed made assumptions from a minuscule amount of contact. Assumption number one, she was gutsy. Two, she genuinely wanted to help improve his game. Three, and he acknowledged this as wishful thinking, she was drawn to him in a way she could neither understand nor control.
Over the past four days, hed gradually come to feel flattered at her interest. Nowat eleven minutes after sixhe realized his mistake. He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his generic gray polyester baseball pants and ignored the unfamiliar feel of cleats under his feet. A pair of lightweight leather gloves burned through his back pocket. He had invested time and money preparing for his lesson, and she had the nerve not to show up?
He crouched at first base, or rather where first base would be if a game were on. Scooping up a handful of dirt, he rubbed the gritty stuff between his fingers as he debated how long to give her.
Plop! He looked up as a heavy white square cushion with a rigid tube attached landed beside him, shooting up a halo of dirt.
Ram that into the pipe at second, she called. Cant practice without a base.
Jack fought to control his relief, which came swift and unapologetic at the teacherlike sound of her voice and the sight of her ever-present L.A. Seagulls cap. He trotted down to second and shoved in the square, then walked back. Id about given up on you, he said toward where she stood leaning against a railing, obviously as close as she planned to get to him.
I debated, she admitted. I decided your team needs you to learn this.
So, youre doing it for the team, not me?
Im doing this for baseball, Ponytail.
He repressed a chuckle. Ah. Ive lowered the standards of the whole game, have I?
I think theres hope, or I wouldnt be here.
He wandered closer, noting how she tugged her cap down defensively the nearer he got. When he saw she was about to take flight, he stopped. I cant keep calling you The Mouth. Whats your name?
She seemed to grab a smile back just before it could escape. Coach.
He shook his head slowly. Why doesnt that surprise me?
Ready to get to work, Ponytail?
I think Im going to regret this, he muttered as he returned to first base and awaited her instructions.
First of all, move to the outfield so you can practice on the grass. When youve teamed how to slide where you cant kill yourself, youll move onto the dirt.
You gonna just stand there and yell instructions to me? he called over his shoulder as he jogged out to the grass.
Yep.
How do I know you can do this if you dont demonstrate it?
A person doesnt have to be able to do in order to teach, Ponytail. She walked parallel to him, one hand on the railing, stopping when he did. Close your eyes. Visualize what Im describing. Go through it in your head. If a part isnt clear, well do it again until it is. Dont hesitate to stop me and ask questions. Okay?
Jack closed his eyes. You want to know if I can touch my nose with my finger?
Her sigh was both loud and dramatic. Let me guess. Youre in law enforcement.
Close. Lawyer.
She groaned audibly. And I said you could stop me anytime and ask questions. We wont get out of here until dark.
He grinned. We have to be out of here by about 6:50. League takes over then.
She looked at her watch. Okay, weve got half an hour. Lets go. Close your eyes. She talked him through the steps, meticulously explaining the reasons for every action, then made him practice again and again on the grass until he could consistently slide while keeping his torso almost upright, trailing his left hand, his left leg tucked under him.
Youre ready to move onto dirt, Ponytail.
Am I? Every muscle complained as he walked to first base.
Ready as youll ever be.
Somehow I dont find that comforting, Coach. He liked the sound of her laugh, a little wicked, a little playful. You think I can master this in one lesson?
Sure. Remember to keep your right foot up so you dont catch your spikes, then hit the bag with your heel, push off with your left leg, and youll be standing.
Cant I just slide into it?
Its going to depend on how much time you think you have. If you can stay on the ground and sort of slide around the base and catch it as you go by, thats okay. Usually, there isnt enough time. And, of course, if youre needed to break up a double play
One step at a time, Coach.
Concentrating, he stood for a few seconds just staring at second base, then he took off at a dead run and dropped into a slide when she yelled, Now!
His cleat caught the edge of the bag and held before he could push himself upright, the impact jarring him from toe to head. He lay there swearing for fifteen seconds before her voice penetrated the buzz in his ears.
Try it again.
I dont think I can even walk.
You just learned what not to do, Ponytail. This time keep your foot up a little higher.
Jack rolled over and pushed himself up, fighting the pain vibrating through his body. He hobbled back to first. How is it you know so much about this game? he asked.
Baseball is my life.
Her droll tone drew a laugh from him.
Youre doing great, Ponytail.
At her praise, a resurgence of energy numbed his pain. Youre a good teacher.
Thanks. So, do you have a law practice here in town?
He shook his finger at her. No fair. I wont answer personal questions if you wont.
She tipped her head to one side. Ill bet youre dynamite.
What makes you say that?
Youre willing to work harder than the average person. You wouldnt be content being anything less than best.
They stared at each other, making some kind of connection that Jack couldnt describe, only feel. He turned away when some people entered the stadium.
Twice more, she announced. Then well call it a night.
Each attempt got easier and better. He yanked up the base after the last slide and headed toward her.
Keep it, she said, backing away. Use it to practice.
Will you work with me again?
You dont need me.
Will you come watch the game Thursday?
She hesitated. Ill be there, she said finally. One last word of advice.
Yeah?
Have you got a hot tub or Jacuzzi?
Yeah.
Go home and soak. Take a couple of Ibuprofens. Or by tomorrow morning you wont be able to move.
Thanks. Ill do that. He wanted to see her eyes, which couldnt lie like words could, but she never stopped hiding. His gaze lingered on her lips, then blazed a trail down her throat and beyond, taking a detour at the nicely rounded breasts her loose T-shirt couldnt hide. Baggy shorts revealed slender thighs and drew attention to her legs, lightly muscled and delicately tanned. When he sent his gaze on a return trip, he sensed her cataloging him, as well. His muscles tightened in response.
People milled around them, in the stands and on the field, but he paid little attention to them, his gaze locked with hers.
He found his voice only after someone asked him to move. See you Thursday, Coach. Hefting the base over his shoulder, he watched her jog up the stairs and out of the stadium. Thursday, he repeated to himself. Three days. It might as well be a month.
From the dugout, Jack surveyed the stands. She usually arrived fifteen minutes or so after the game startedto avoid pregame conversation with anyone, he guessedbut he thought she might be there for the entire game this time, to watch his progress.
His ex-wifes husband plopped onto the bench beside him.
Have you met your tenant yet? Drew asked.
Nope. I was in Chicago the weekend he moved in, but I left a note telling him to give me a call. Since I hadnt heard from him, I walked over the other day to introduce myself but his truck was gone.
Whats the guys name again?
Mickey Morrison. Hes supposed to start teaching math at the community college next week.
Any regrets about renting the place out?
Jack shrugged. It was cozy enough while I was remodeling the big house, but no. It served its purpose.
Except Danis furious that you gave her dollhouse away.
Jack smiled, remembering how his daughter had declared the guest house her playroom and that he absolutely could not let anyone else live there. Theres nothing quite like a scorned four-year-old, he said to Drew.
Shes a special little girl, Jack. You and Stacy have done a great job raising her.
Youre contributing your share. He continued his perusal of the stands as Drew tapped the ground repeatedly with his bat.
I wanted to thank you for letting her call me Dad. It means a lot to me, Drew said after clearing his throat.
Jack shifted on the bench, hammering down the flash of insecurity hed been struggling to control ever since Dani had broached the subject with him. She seemed concerned that when her new sibling arrives he or she would be confused by big sister not calling you Dad. She calls me Daddy, so its different.
Shes always been particularly sensitive to peoples feelings. Amazingly so, for a child.
My brother was like that. God, I miss him so much. If Dan had lived
Life would have been different for all of us, Jack. Immeasurably different.
Unwilling to step back in time, Jack tuned in to the noise and activity around them, catching snippets of conversation and laughter until he spotted The MouCoach sliding into a vacant seat. He raised a hand to her and was rewarded with a quick wave in return. Inordinately glad that shed already singled him out from so far away, his confidence rose. Maybe hed hit a home run today, or start a double play, or
He struck out once, flied out twice and got on first because of a fielders error. Not exactly the shining example hed wanted to present. Plus hed never even had a chance to slide. On the other hand, hed gotten three runners out at second and had thrown right on target to the first baseman.
Coach had been uncharacteristically quiet during the game, as if she sensed his disappointment over his performance. He missed the badgering. He wanted to hear, Hey, Ponytail, followed by a caustically given instructionor even an insult. Wondering where her gruff exterior had fled, he kept an eye on her as he shook hands with the opposing team members after the game. He saw her descend the stairs to stand by the railing, and he walked over, gauging how close to get by observing her body language, a skill at which he was becoming entirely too competent.
Your fieldings improving, she said.
My hitting stinks.
She shrugged. It could use some work.
Im willing to put my ego aside again, if youre willing to teach me.
He watched her ponder his words. The old Jack would have pushed. The newer, improved model dug deep within himself for patience.
Bring a couple of bats and as many softballs as you can borrow, she said after a long debate.
Monday at six? Why do you look so sad? he wanted to ask, noting weariness in her posture, as if shed been defeated in battle and needed to mend.
She nodded, then pushed away from the railing.
You okay, Coach? he asked as she turned away.
Mickey shoved her hands into her pockets. I need a hug, she wanted to say. Im lonely and Im tired of not sleeping. And I get scared of the noises in the woods.
Coach?
She shifted to face him again. He had a nice face, a face with characterdeep blue eyes dark with obvious concern for her, a jaw that held an edge of stubbornness, a mouth that looked as if it could utter soothing words or deliver hot, arousing kisses, both of which she could have used, neither of which she dared accept. He projected self-confidence and strength. He wasnt afraid to take chances. He wasnt afraid to fail. She wondered if he could teach her that as easily as shed taught him how to slide.
Im fine, Ponytail. I was just thinking about the Help Wanted sign I saw hanging on the snack bar. You might keep that in mind as an option.
He looked relieved that she teased him, seemed her old self again. Shed gotten good at bluffing. Too good, she realized. Shed had a difficult week, had missed her family more than she ever could have imagined. Aside from her lesson with Ponytail and polite exchanges with clerks in stores, she hadnt spoken to anyone except a dog that joined her by the stream one day this week. Hed laid his head in her lap and let her pet him for a few minutes, then after one lick of her face hed loped away, his golden coat gleaming in the sunlight, his tags jangling.
Were all headed to Chung Lis Pizza. Would you like to come? Ponytail asked, moving a few steps closer, as if he thought he needed to catch her as she fainted.
Thanks, but Ive got to get home. Ill see you Monday.
I hope its going to hurt less than the first lesson, he called as she jogged up the stairs.
No guarantees, she yelled back. No guarantees, she repeated softly to herself. Not in baseball. Not in life.
Keep your weight on your back foot, then step into the swing, Mickey instructed him as he stood at home plate. And
I know. Keep my shoulder down and both eyes on the ball.
Right. She pitched the ball, which landed in a poof of dirt two feet in front of the plate.
He stared at it, then lifted his head, his mouth clamped against a smile. That was just to see if I was paying attention, right?
Im a little rusty, she said in apology, fighting a returning smile. Add a sense of humor to the list of appealing things about him, she thought. Shed looked forward to today more than shed wanted to, more than was healthy to achieve her goals. Shed forsaken leaning on her family for a while, until she came to terms with herself as an independent person. Now she was in danger of leaning on this man, who was a tempting combination of character, sexiness and, she suspected, comfort.
Glad to know youre not perfect, Coach.
He hit the next pitchalmost straight up.
Didnt anyone teach you to call fore, Ponytail?
Get the pitch up over the plate and I wont have to golf it, he chided.
The next pitch sailed over the plateten feet off the ground.
Very funny, he said, grinning. You got that out of your system?
Maybe.
You like a challenge, dont you?
Mickey pictured her three brothers and the constant competition theyd all given one another while growing up. Shed learned early to play hardor trickyor else be left behind. And being left behind was worse than occasionally putting on a dress to please her mother.
Ponytail showed steady improvement over the half hour they practiced, learning to level out his swing and concentrate just on connecting, not always going for home runs. They had to stop every so often to gather the balls from the outfield, otherwise she worked him constantly.
Thursday will be the last game for the season, he told her as they collected balls for the last time.
Really? So soon? Now what? When will I see you again?
The towns not large enough to support more than five teams. We play each other twice, then were done.
I take it you hadnt played much baseball before this.
What was your first clue, Sherlock? he asked as he approached, carrying an armload of balls.
Jack leaned toward her; most of the balls spilled into the sack she held, some dropped to the ground. They crouched simultaneously, their heads almost colliding, their hands grasping the same ball. She tried to pull back; he tightened his grip on her hand.
Whats your name? he asked quietly, intently-
She shook her head as she jerked her hand away.
Why wont you tell me?
IIm going through a transition right now. I need...I need to handle it alone. She stood, then backed away, watching him as if she thought hed lunge after her.
The last thing he needed right now was a woman with problems, but he also recognized fear when he saw it, and unwillingly decided hed give just about anything to identify the source and chase it away. How could someone he knew nothing about have become so important, so fast? Why had her well-being superseded everything else in his life? Hed barely been able to concentrate on the textbook he was writing, and his deadline threatened imminently. He couldnt afford the time his mind had been giving her. You dont need friends? he asked before she could run off.
I need to be a friend to myself, she said quietly, turning her head toward a group of people just entering the stadium.
His lawyers instincts sprang to attention. A hundred questions crossed his mind. Had she been abused? Had she run away from someone or something? Was she hiding out? How could he help her?
Without the baseball games, youre going to disappear from my life, he said. That would be a mistake.
She looked back at him. Why?
Jack took three steps toward her, stopping when her shoulders tensed. Theres a connection between us. Something that made you pick me out of a crowd even though you didnt know anything about me. The things you yelled to me would have brought some men to their knees. How did you know I wouldnt fall apart, or strangle you?
She shrugged, as if she hadnt spent a minute analyzing it. Your posture, your smile. I dont know. You project confidence. The guys on your team gave you a bad time. You laughed it off and kept plugging away. She tugged the bill of her cap. Well, I guess Id better get going. See you Thursday. She started up the stairs, then suddenly spun around again. You did really well today.
Thanks. You made it easy. He wanted to follow her, force her to take off the damned sunglasses and cap, look him in the eyetell him how he could help her. Hed been making a concerted effort in the past year to be more spontaneous, but hed also discovered that spontaneity sometimes took some planning, a paradoxical idea hed never uttered aloud to anyone.
Hed have to think about planning something spontaneous for Thursday night.
They were down by four runs in the top of the fifth inning. A base hit and two walks loaded the bases for Ponytail, his third at bat this game. Hed connected with solid singles his first two times at the plate. If his luck held this time, the lead would probably be cut in half.
He didnt even swing at the first pitch. In fact, he looked frozen in place, the pressure too much to take.
Thataway, Ponytail. Wait for your pitch, Mickey yelled.
He dropped the bat, miming comic amazement that she was calling out encouragement. She noted people around her smiling amongst themselves over her lack of nastiness to him, and she heaved a huge internal sigh. For someone who had wanted anonymity, shed sure earned a reputation in a short time. Since shed never been content to sit on the sidelines before, she didnt know why she had expected herself capable of it now.
She watched him scoop up a handful of dirt to absorb the sweat off his palms, then settle in at the plate again.
Crack!
The ball sailed over the shortstops head and dropped between the center and left fielders. The stands erupted with cheering; Mickey knew he couldnt possibly hear her yelling instructions to him as she watched the progress of the ball and the outfielders chasing it. His teammates shouted and motioned for him to keep running.
One runner scored. Two. Three. He rounded third and headed to home. The ball soared in to the cutoff man at second base.
Slide! Mickey screamed, cupping her hands into a human megaphone. Slide!
Whoosh! Down he went, streaking into home amidst a rooster tail of dirt and dust at the same moment the ball landed with a pop in the catchers mitt.
Safe! the umpire bellowed.
His teammates mobbed him at the plate where he lay gasping, their voices rumbling with congratulations and surprise at the in-the-park home run. The only thing Jack could hear distinctly was Coachs voice, an octave higher than the mens and clearly thrilled at his success.
All right, Ponytail! You did it! You did it!
Someone stuck out a helping hand. Jack grasped it and was pulled to his feet. Which one of you dropped that piano on my back as I got to third? he asked, doubled over, eliciting laughter from the team as he was swept into their circle of celebration. Finding an unexpected well of energy, he broke out of the group and jogged away from them, toward the stands, toward Coach.
Across the field, past the opponents dugout, up the stairs he trotted, until he stood in front of her and could see her delayed reaction to his presence. Lifting a hand to her cap, he spun it around until the bill pointed backward. Gently, he pulled off her sunglasses and passed them to the person beside her. He settled his hands on her shoulders, and he could feel imminent flight within her and see caution in her eyes. Brown eyes, he noted, clear as aged brandy.
Ive won a lot of cases in court, Coach, but nothing ever made me feel as good as this. Thanks. I couldnt have done it without you. That said, he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.
Spontaneous combustion. The words raced through his mind as what hed planned as a friendly kiss of gratitude exploded into something much more. Stunned, more winded than hed been after the run around the bases, he pulled back after five seconds on a roller coaster that had reached the top of the first hill instantly and started a swift descent into frenzied madness.
Mickey opened her eyes slowly as Ponytail pulled back; she looked into eyes as startled as her own must be. Knowing this moment was all she would ever have of this man, she grabbed his T-shirt with both fists and held him there.
The familiar odors of sweat, dirt and glove leather assailed her, sending her careening back to adolescence, to a happy and carefree time. For an instant she was transported into the dugout at the spring training camp of the L.A. Seagulls, the major league baseball team her father had managed for the past fourteen years. Comfort, familiarity, homecomingshe felt all this as she twisted his T-shirt in her hands and dragged him back to her.
Youre welcome, she murmured. Standing on tiptoe, she looped her arms around his neck and tugged. Amidst catcalls and whistles all around them, she kissed him back, reveling in the arousing taste of his mouth and the solid comfort of his body.
She wandered aimlessly, lost in a storm of feeling that obliterated everything from thought. For two years shed been dead, worse than deadlifeless. Now there was just him, and her, and their embracelifes most glorious celebration. Then from below her a tiny, high-pitched voice sliced into the maelstrom.
Mommy, why is that lady kissing my daddy?
Three
Ice water. Someone had dumped a fifty-five-gallon drum of frigid liquid on her, Mickey thought as she jerked herself out of his arms.
Shh, Dani, she heard a woman say.
But, Mommy
Mickey realized it was Stacy who spoke to the child, a little girl dressed in a summer shift like her mother always wore. A little girl with long, silky brown hair like her mother and dark blue eyes like...Ponytail. Her father.
Mickeys hands flew up to cover her mouth as she realized what it all meant. He was married. Married to Stacy, the only person Mickey had spoken to at the games, the person shed passed instructions to Ponytail through. They were a family.
And shed kissed him. Hed given her a friendly kiss. Well, sort of. It had escalated into something else. But shed pulled him back for another longer, hotter, deeper kiss. He could have stopped her, though. Couldnt he?
Furious and embarrassed, Mickey snatched back her sunglasses and leapt onto the bench behind her, then the one beyond that. Another. Another. Lord, for a small stadium, it seemed endless. She couldnt get out fast enough.
Jack watched her take off. A few seconds passed before he interpreted the look of horror on her face. Realizing the conclusion shed jumped to, he scrambled to follow her.
Coach, wait! He had the advantage of longer legs, but she was being chased by a demon. He gave up trying to explain in private. Were divorced, Coach! Im not married! he yelled as she hit the top of the stadium, ready to take flight.
His plastic cleats spun on the concrete stairs and he tripped just as he pulled within arms reach, calling out as he stumbled, and fell with a thud.
Jack! She dropped down beside him, her hands fluttering over him.
You know my name, he said in surprise, pain welling as he sought her eyes through the sunglasses shed shoved back on to free her hands.
Well, of course I know your name. She growled the words impatiently. Ive been sitting in the stands for weeks. How could I not know your name. Where do you hurt?
My right ankle.
A crowd migrated up the stadium steps. Jack grabbed her hand as she started to move aside when the first baseman, Scott, knelt beside him. Dont go, Jack said to her. I need to talk to you.
Youre in pain.
Please. You misunderstood.
Howre you doing? Scott asked as he ran efficient hands down Jacks leg and ankle.
Go away, Jack ordered. I need to talk to Coach first.
Could be broken, buddy. We should get you to the hospital ER.
A few minutes delay wont hurt. Back off, Scott. Coach?
She hovered over him, her expression serious. Im really proud of you, Ponytail. You did great.
Not Ponytail. Jack.
She swallowed. Jack.
Now tell me yours.
Coach. Its Coach.
Im not going to see you again, am I? he asked, already knowing the answer.
I dont know. Its a small town.
So, we may run into each other, but youll still avoid anything more personal.
I have to, she whispered. Im sorry. I cant change it.
He squeezed her hand; his eyes closed briefly as a wave of pain washed over him. He couldnt decide which hurt the mosthis ankle or the fact he may never see her again. I cant ever remember feeling like that about a kiss. And you...you pulled me back for more.
Im sorry, she repeated helplessly, and he gathered she meant for more than the kiss.
Scott knelt beside him again. Lets go.
He sat up, wincing as his leg was jostled. Stacy can take me. You go back to the game.
Whos the doctor here? Scott asked.
Jacks brows lifted.
Gynecologists are allowed to treat broken bones, you know.
Ill go with you, said the third baseman, Drew, leaning over Scotts shoulder. You finish the game, Scotty.
Oh, great, Jack muttered. Will you give me a sucker if I dont cry?
It was patients like you that made me settle on pediatrics, Drew said, shaking his finger at Jack.
Jack eyed the woman beside him suppressing a smile. Dont you dare laugh, Coach.
She raised her hands, palms out, and shook her head solemnly, although the curve of her mouth belied the attempt at seriousness.
He turned back to the men. Look, if two of us leave, well have to forfeit the game. If only I go, the games legal. Itd be nice to have one in the win column.
One of your two entirely competent physician-teammates will accompany you, Scott said, brooking no argument Choose.
Jack focused on Coach. Fill in, will you?
Me?
Yeah. You can play, I gather.
Well, yes, but its been a long time
Come on, sub for me. We can bring the outfield rover in to cover first for Scott.
The umpire announced they had two minutes to get the game started again or hed call a forfeit. All three men turned to the woman known only as Coach.
The games forfeited if I play. This is a mens league, she said.
Jack looked at Scott. Is that true?
I hadnt thought about it. Yeah, I suppose it is.
Look, I was responsible. Why dont I take him? she asked.
Once again she was the focus of their appraisal.
I dont have my car with me, but I imagine one of you would let me borrow
Mine, Jack said. Well take mine. He wasnt going to give anyone else the opportunity to offer.
After being assured that Scott would call ahead to the ER on his cellular phone, Jack was helped out to the parking lot and into his Jeep by two spectators. He rested his foot carefully on the floorboard and leaned back stiffly. Coach had disappeared while they had negotiated the parking lot, then reappeared beside him before the car door was shut. Carefully, she set an ice-filled towel over his ankle.
Scott thought it would help, she said, looking up at him. Is it too heavy?
Its all right. Forcing himself to relax, he slumped as she scrambled around the front of the car, climbed in and adjusted the drivers seat for her shorter legs.
Can you handle a manual transmission? he asked as she started the engine, then regretted the question when she turned a youve-got-to-be-kidding expression on him. Sorry. Do you know where the hospital is?
On Allendale, isnt it? Across the street from the minimall?
Right. The question in her voice confirmed his assumptionshe hadnt lived in Gold Creek long. He winced as she hit a speed bump.
Mickey glanced at him after she heard his quickly indrawn breath. Sorry. Does it hurt a lot?
He clenched the dashboard. Lets see. Should I be a real man and say, Aw, its nothing? Or should I tell you the truth?
It hurts like hell? she ventured, risking a quick look his way as she slowed for a red light.
He closed his eyes. The ice helps. Thanks.
She negotiated the streets as slowly as traffic would allow, wishing he would talk more. After all, she was a captive audience. He could ask all the questions hed been dying to ask. He remained quiet. It drove her crazy.
Are you furious with me? she asked finally.
Jack didnt open his eyes. His silence had accomplished what he had intended: the conversational ball was in her court.
Should I be? he asked.
She groaned. I forgot you were a lawyer. Answer a question with a question. What a lovely tactic.
He kept his voice deliberately calm. Do I seem furious with you?
I dont know, Jack. What do you look like when youre furious?
He laughed softly at her retort. The ploy usually works, you know. He opened his eyes to a squint and enjoyed the sight of her, so close he could touch her if he chose.
Give it your best shot, Ponytail. I grew up with three exceptionally tricky brothers. Im prepared for anything.
Did they teach you to play baseball?
Nope.
You said you were out of practice. Does that mean you used to play a lot?
Yep.
One corner of his mouth twitched. Oh, yes, she was tough. And smart, and quick. Shed turned the tables on him very nicely.
Mickey grinned his direction, trying not to gloat. Shed managed to outmaneuver him, but he was being a good sport about it. Jack
Look out! he yelled.
She hit the brakes, barely avoiding crashing into the car that had come to a quick stop in front of them. Are you all right? she asked hurriedly as he moaned and shifted. She knew hed hit a phantom brake pedal instinctively, ramming his injured foot against the floorboard.
Yeah.
No, she decided, hearing the grittiness of the single word. Real men can say ow, you know.
He rubbed his chest. I think you inflicted more pain throwing your arm across me than I did myself with my foot. Are you used to a child sitting next to you or something?
No, she said abruptly, not realizing shed put an arm protectively, automatically, in front of him. Not anymore, she added in silence. Once again, I apologize for causing you pain.
Want to kiss it and make it better?
She smiled at the windshield, grateful there wasnt time to relive the past. You wish, she said, tossing a grin his way.
The hospital came into view.
Coach
Im going to stop at the emergency entrance and find someone with a wheelchair, she said, swinging into the well-marked driveway.
Before you go
Dont. She shifted into neutral, and pulled up the emergency brake, then turned to look at him. It cant go any further than this. Im sorry. More sorry than you can imagine.
Just tell me why.
Its too complicated.
Are you married?
Of course not.
Significant other?
None. I meant it when I said Im in transition. Theres just me. There can only be me. Ive really enjoyed the time weve shared, though. I hope I wasnt too hard on you.
On the contrary, Im grateful for your prodding. He touched her shoulder lightly and trailed his fingers down her arm, crossing from fabric to skin on his journey, then locked his fingers over hers as she clenched the gearshift. A favor?
Her body reacted to his touch in ways she had thought dead and forgotten. Breath became hard to control; her pulse went from zero to sixty in less than five seconds; even her breasts swelled. She watched him take note of her response, one visible reaction at a time, which served only to make her breathing more shallow, her pulse speed uninhibited down an empty freeway and the tips of her breasts harden painfully.
His voice turned to velvet. Could we share one kiss in private?
She didnt want to give him permission, but to relinquish responsibility to him and not be able to blame herself later. She wanted him just to take. He waited patiently for her to answer.
Jack heard the whisper of a yes only because he was watching her mouth. Not in any hurry, he pushed the bill of her cap around and pulled off her sunglasses. The pupils of her eyes constricted in the sunlight as he watched; her lips parted. Slowing his need, he pressed his mouth to the tender skin below her ear and felt her quivering response. Sliding his mouth along her jaw, he heard her whispered encouragement.
Yes. Oh, God. Yes, she breathed, exciting him beyond his dreams with her need.
First came the arousing feel of her lips against his, soft and fiery, then a sudden stillness as she held her breath, then a slow exhale accompanied by the slightest taste of an inquisitive tongue. She glided a shaking hand up his arm to his shoulder; her fingers dug into him. Oh, yes, this was heaven, he thought, curiosity somersaulting into desire as he slanted their mouths differently to deepen the kiss. We fit perfectly. The revelation meandered through his mind as they pulled each other closer across the center console. He slid his palm to her throat, felt the hammering pulse, then glided down
Someone knocked on the windshield.
You the one Doc Lansing called about? a uniformed attendant asked through the glass.
Murder came to mind. Jack nodded in the affirmative, but his gaze stayed on Coach, who seemed to be taking a long time drifting down from her own clouds. Who are you? he asked her as the attendant pushed a wheelchair around to the passenger side of the car.
Her hands shaking, she fitted her sunglasses back in place and lifted her cap to turn it around and resettle it. Ill park your car and leave your keys with the ER receptionist.
He couldnt say goodbye, so he brushed a hand down her cheek and turned from her to shift himself into the wheelchair. He never looked back.
Mickey watched him disappear through the electric doors, then leaned her forehead against the steering wheel for a minute to get her bearings.
His kiss should be labeled by the government as hazardous to ones health, for surely her temperature had elevated to a life-threatening degree. She leaned back and blew out a breath, her arms stiff, her hands locked on the steering wheel. He would be a significant roadblock in her need for independence. Too significant. She shoved the car into first gear.
After finding a parking place nearby, she sat on a bench under a tree for more than half an hour, giving him a chance to be taken into a room, then she climbed the ramp and entered the hospital. She glanced furtively around her but the waiting room yawned empty. She swept off her hat as she approached the reception window. Excuse me, she said to the woman working at a computer behind the counter.
Yes? May I help you?
I, ah, I wanted to know about a patient who was just brought in with an ankle injury.
Are you a relative?
No. Just a...friend. Is he all right?
Let me check. Have a seat, okay?
Mickey sank onto a bench. Dropping her cap on the table beside her, she picked up a magazine and flipped through it, seeing only a blur of words and pictures. Stark images of her last visit to a hospital emergency room flashed before her eyes. Im sorry. Theres nothing we can do. Sorry... Nothing... Sorry...
Nothing.
The door from the ER parking lot whooshed open, startling her. She brushed a weary hand down her face and stood as Scott Lansing approached.
Hows he doing? he asked, his eyes asking questions he must have sensed she wouldnt answer.
I dont know. Hes inside. Did you win?
Amazingly, we did. Ill go check on him.
Wait. Mickey caught his arm. From her pocket she dug out a set of keys. Give these to him, please. Ill be on my way.
He hefted the keys lightly. Hang tight. Ill see how he is.
After a few minutes, he returned. We havent been introduced. He extended his hand in greeting. Im Scott Lansing.
Yes, I know. How is he?
Ornery.
Please. She realized how pathetic she sounded when the man dropped his attempt at humor and started speaking in soothing doctor tones.
Hes going to be just fine. No break, just a bad sprain. You can go see him, if you want. Hes having his crutches fitted, then he can leave.
She had to get out of here, away from the reminders, away from the past. I...cant stay. Tell him...tell him Im glad hes all right. And Im sorry I caused him to be hurt.
Why dont you tell him yourself?
She could hear Jacks voice as he called thanks to someone, then the sound of the electric doors swinging open. She took three steps back, turned and ran.
Jack concentrated on negotiating the metal crutches through the door, and looked up only in time to catch a glimpse of Coachs tempting backside. He glanced at Scott.
Stubborn as you, Jack, old buddy. Do you want to go to Chung Lis or home?
Jack moved toward the glass exit door, but she was already out of sight. Pizza, I guess.
Sit down for a second while I pick up your prescription. Elevate that foot.
Jack maneuvered himself to a cushioned bench. Beside him on the low table laden with well-used magazines sat an L.A. Seagulls baseball cap. He picked it up and turned it in his hands. Coachs? It had to be. He checked it for a name tag; finding none, he lifted it to his face and breathed in the sweet, subtle fragrance of shampoo that lingered in the fabric. His body reacted with lightning speed to the scent, to the remembered taste of her mouth and her uncontrolled response. If theyd just had a little more time alone in the car, maybe he could have convinced her to trust him, or at least to meet with him again.
He spun the cap that his reluctant Cinderella had left behind. Folding it, he jammed it into his waistband, knowing he had to find her. Ignoring his long-trusted intuition, which told him he was inviting trouble by searching her out, he decided she was a woman in need of a happy ending. And hed make a helluva Prince Charming.
Four
Mickey stood in the courtyard absorbing the beauty of the community college campus, an award-winning school praised for its overall design and lush landscaping. Climbing ivy and leafy trees cleverly screened concrete and stucco buildings; flowering shrubs edged brick pathways weaving through the campus grounds. No city sounds intruded. The college was a community unto itself.
The frantic, disorganized first week of the semester was over; her second week of teaching had begun. Last Monday, shed been able to look forward to the batting lesson with Jack at the end of her first day of teaching. Now all that faced her was her new Monday, Wednesday and Friday routine: four classes of algebra, followed by an hour for lunch, then two hours tutoring in the math lab. She would have papers to grade in the evening, lessons to plan and individual counseling where needednothing overly demanding, nothing that would too quickly awaken long-dead emotions, just a gradual return to life.
She had forgotten how much she enjoyed teaching, had forgotten the pleasure of communicating with curious students, how satisfying it was to see awareness dawn on the face of someone who grasped a concept that a moment earlier had been a puzzle.
Hey, Ms. Morrison, someone called, coming up behind her as she stared at the koi swimming in the fish pond, the showcase of the schools courtyard.
She lifted her head and turned, then recognized the young man shed just tutored in the lab. Hey, Greg, she responded, smiling at the infectious grin on his face. Good work today.
It clicked, you know?
Drop by again on Wednesday, if you can. I think you can catch up in a hurry. Her gaze shifted to a man making his way on crutches past them. He looked up from focusing on the path before him and stared at her, surprised.
Ill be there, Greg said, walking backward. Thanks a lot.
Mickey blinked, breaking the intensity of the gaze with the man who had haunted her dreams for days. Haltingly, she said goodbye to Greg and watched as he jogged across the courtyard. He had been out of sight for seconds before she reluctantly faced forward again. Jack, she whispered.
Jack positioned a crutch on each side of her, trapping her between him and the koi pond. His head an inch from hers, he breathed in the now-familiar scent of her shampoo. His gaze took in her blond pixie hair and startled brandy-colored eyes. Even without touching her, he could feel the tautness of her body, clothed this time in a blue-and-white striped tailored blouse and matching blue slacks. You work here, he stated, noting the briefcase she carried.
He saw her glance in silent question at his own soft-sided satchel tied to the handle of his right crutch. I volunteer legal aid, and I occasionally speak to classes on topics that I have some expertise in, he told her. How about you?
I teach algebra, she replied, clearly uncomfortable at having to answer.
He pulled back in surprise and studied her face, her identity becoming blindingly clear. Your name wouldnt happen to be Mickey Morrison, would it?
Her eyes widened in obvious shock. How do you know that?
His tenant! All these weeks, and shed been living a hundred yards from him. Damn it all, what luck! He grinned. I thought you knew my name.
I know your first name.
Im Jack Stone.
Is that supposed to mean something to me?
It should.
Why?
The name Jack Stone doesnt ring any bells? he pressed.
Tell me why it should.
Ignoring her demand, he slid a hand into his satchel and withdrew her L.A. Seagulls baseball cap. She started to take it from him, but he yanked it out of reach. Not so fast. You stayed at the hospital for almost an hour. Obviously, you were worried about me. Why didnt you at least stay long enough to talk to me?
I told you. There cant be anything between us. Dont keep forcing the issue.
He used his most soothing voice, one hed cultivated to pull information from reluctant clients and witnesses. I know youre in some kind of trouble. Whatever it is, let me help you.
Mickey dipped her head. Lord, spare me from chauvinistic men, she thought, suddenly finding her sense of humor now that the shock of his knowing who she was had settled in. Look, you cant tell anyone, okay? she said, her voice hushed and deep.
He leaned closer. Of course.
She glanced around surreptitiously. I escaped a white slavery ring.
What?!
There were twenty of us, being guarded by a eunuch. He fell in love with me. She sighed dramatically. He helped me
Jack laughed, then plopped her cap backward on her head. I get the message, loud and clear, Coach.
Do you?
Whatevers bothering you isnt criminal, right?
What made you think otherwise? she asked, genuinely curious.
Call it jumping to conclusions after years in a business where being suspicious is part of the job description.
Yet you were willing to help me, even if Id done something
I didnt think youd done anything. I just thought you were in some kind of trouble. He backed up, providing her an escape route. I can see you want to get on your way.
Mickey frowned. He was giving up far too easily. She pulled the baseball cap off her head and ran her fingers through her hair. She was mesmerized by the intensity of the beautiful dark blue eyes directed on her, holding her hostage even after granting her freedom. Thanks for returning this.
Ive carried that with me everywhere Ive gone these past four days. I went to the grocery store and opened shampoo bottles until found which one matched the scent in your cap, just because I needed to know. Even getting caught was worth the embarrassment.
You...you got caught? Sniffing shampoos in the store? She tried very hard not to laugh.
He grinned. Yeah, by a smug teenaged boy who stood there with his arms folded across his chest until I loaded every bottle Id opened into a shopping cart and then followed me to make sure I bought them. But I needed to know everything I could about you. This cap was all I had. Its hard now to give it up.
She swallowed. No one had ever laid siege to her before. She wasnt the kind of woman men saw as a sex object. She was just Mickey, the woman whom people asked directions of, whom weekend daddies trusted to take their daughters safely into public rest rooms. She looked harmless. She was harmless. She was not the femme fatale that Jack seemed to be projecting her to be.
Jack could see hed flustered her, although he was mature enough not to gloat. He knew who she was. He knew how to find her. He could let her gofor now. So long, Coach, he said, maneuvering his crutches past her.
Wait a minute, Jack Stone, she called. Tell me why I should know you.
You just think about it, he called back, grinning. Ill be seeing you.
Mickey wrenched open the jar of fish bait and sniffed. Ugh! What an atrocious odor. Fish Love It! Guaranteed To Attract Even The Most Elusive, the store display had promised, while the jar label warned it was not for human consumption. As if anyone in their right mind would want to taste it!
She held the jar at arms length, her nose wrinkling and eyes squinting. Dipping her thumb and two fingers into the jar, she extracted a smidgen of bait. The texture of clay, it rolled easily into a ball she could press onto the hook. She stared at her hand when the task was done, then dipped it in the water before resolutely wiping it on the ground, hoping the dirt would mask any lingering scent.
Inexpertly, she cast the lure into the pool. Not happy with the location, she reeled it back in and tried again, twice, until she was satisfied with where it fell. She settled down on the bank, leaned against a boulder and finally relaxed enough to let her mind wander.
Jack Stone. Why should his name be familiar to her? What did he know that she didnt? He hadnt been off her mind all afternoon, not as she had driven home from work, or changed into denim cutoffs, T-shirt and slip-on sneakers, or gathered up her brand-new fishing gear before hiking down to the stream behind her house.
He knew her name now, and where she worked. She waited for the trepidation to come with the knowledge that he could find her easily. She felt only a glow spreading through her body. It wasnt thoughts of Jack, she rationalized, but the five oclock summer sun spilling through the leafy shelter of trees that was warming her. She closed her eyes and let the heat seep into her, relaxing, healing and even a little arousing. Her body began to tingle, much like a leg that has fallen asleep coming back to life with pinpricks of pleasure-pain.
As she heard the jangle of dog tags and the patter of paws, she opened her eyes slowly, reluctant to stop her bodys awakening.
Woof! The golden retriever barked in greeting as he nuzzled her neck with his wet nose and gave her a slow doggie kiss up her cheek.
Woof to you, too, Flee, Mickey said, smiling and fending off his affectionate caresses. Shed made friends with the beautiful dog over the past couple of weeks, discovering his name on one of his tags, his address identifying him as her landlords pet.
She really should go over and introduce herself, she thought for probably the twentieth time. But the woman at the property management company that had handled her lease said he was gone frequently, which was why hed contracted the company to take care of the details. If Mickey had any problems, she was to direct them to the company, not to her landlord. She figured he wanted as much privacy as she did.
She liked his dog, though, who offered undemanding companionship.
Flee, you mangy mutt! a mans voice called, accompanied by the sound of leaves being crushed underfoot in a slow, awkward cadence. If you knock me down one more time, I swear Ill
Mickey dropped her fishing pole and scrambled to her feet as the man about to issue a dire threat came into view. Jack! she gasped, watching as he caught sight of her and grinned. He negotiated his crutches over and around rocks, twigs and bumpy terrain to come up beside her.
.
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Susan Crosby
CINDERELLA IN WAITING With just one look Jack Stone could tell that Mickey was a princess living in a self-imposed ivory tower. But he wasn't one to let a few flights of stairs keep him from what he wanted. And he most definitely wanted the reluctant Cinderella next door. Melting her icy reserve would be his pleasure.Men had pursued Mickey before, but never with such a fervor as her enticing neighbor. How was a woman with her turbulent past supposed to resist Jack's tempting caresses? Especially when her sexy suitor began talking about marriage! Was it enough to make a girl toss her glass slipper and run for the preacher?
Exasperating Woman, He Growled, Hauling Her To Him For A Final Stormy Kiss. (#ucda1b7d9-51fe-5254-9d17-f6cfbef06d6b)Letter to Reader (#uf4848e98-476c-5d68-b259-eae603bf5efe)Title Page (#u1b87a68b-4db4-5b43-a0ce-cd5f95639f2f)About the Author (#ubf0330cb-c15f-599c-a591-2652895885d6)Dedication (#u27e6d2f0-bc0b-594e-a18e-89cc7a647b0f)Chapter One (#u556b5cbc-7834-52ea-97ea-394e7ee0c07f)Chapter Two (#u4e5d104a-9bbe-5271-8784-961411b745dc)Chapter Three (#u6f4b0365-ea12-555a-baf9-b3de150c0a36)Chapter Four (#ufdb95010-b636-5fc9-a015-bddb1d5bfab0)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Exasperating Woman, He Growled, Hauling Her To Him For A Final Stormy Kiss.
Reluctantly Jack let her go, then watched as she slowly walked away. He shook his head, irritated with himself. He wouldnt blame Mickey for shying away from him now. Hed told her they would play by her rules; then hed forced the issue when he shouldnt have. He was the one with the marriage timetable, after all.
Okay, so she hadnt resisted. Okay, so she had pushed him as much as he had pushed her. Still, it was his responsibility to be in control. A true Prince Charming would be the epitome of patience, wouldnt he? And a true Prince Charming would never lose control.
He just had to stay patient and keep control. Simple, right?
But Jack didnt think his life would ever be simple again.
Dear Reader,
The celebration of Silhouette Desires 15th anniversary continues this month! First, theres a wonderful treat in store for you as Ann Major continues her fantastic CHILDREN OF DESTINY series with Novembers MAN OF THE MONTH, Nobodys Child Not only is this the latest volume in this popular miniseries, but Ann will have a Silhouette Single Title, also part of CHILDREN OF DESTINY, in February 1998, called Secret Child Dont miss either one of these unforgettable love stories.
BJ Jamess popular BLACK WATCH series also continues with Journeys End, the latest installment in the stories of the menand the womenof the secret agency.
This wonderful lineup is completed with delicious love stories by Lass Small, Susan Crosby, Eileen Wilks and Shawna Delacorte. And next month, look for six more Silhouette Desire books, including a MAN OF THE MONTH by Dixie Browning!
Desire...its the name you can trust for dramatic, sensuous, engrossing stories written by your bestselling favorites and terrific newcomers. We guarantee handsome heroes, likable heroines...and happily-ever-after endings. So read, and enjoy!
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
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Marriage on his Mind
Susan Crosby
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SUSAN CROSBY
is fascinated by the special and complex communication of courtship, and so she burrows in her office to dream up warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines to satisfy her own love of happy endings.
She and her husband have two grown sons and live in the Central Valley of California. She spent a mere seven-and-a-half years getting through college and finally earned a B.A. in English a few years ago. She has worked as a synchronized swimming instructor, a personnel interviewer at a toy factory and a trucking company manager. Involved for many years behind the scenes in a local community theater, she has made only one stage appearanceas the rear end of a camel! Variety, she says, makes for more interesting novels.
Readers are welcome to write to her at P.O. Box 1836, Lodi, CA 95241.
To Linda and Lee, whose friendship caught fire.
We should all be so blessed.
One
Crack!
Foul! the umpire called.
Jack Stone heaved a sigh of relief from his position at shortstop on the baseball diamond. One less catch muffed. What the hell am I doing here? he asked himself for the hundredth time. Midlife crisis, remember? his mind whispered back.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, he muttered as the pitcher tossed another softball underhanded to the batter.
Crack!
Oh, God, it was headed toward him. Please, let me catch it. Please. Otherwise, The Mouth
The ball hit the hard infield once before magically bouncing into his glove. Stunned at his luck, he stared at the white orb nestled in oiled leather until the second baseman yelled at him to throw it to first. Jack cranked up his arm and threwand missed the first baseman by six feet, the ball skittering to the fence as the runner chugged into second standing up.
Hey, Ponytail, whaddaya need, a map? a woman yelled from the stands of the small stadium hosting the mens recreational league game.
The short, neat ponytail Jack sported suddenly felt as inconspicuous as Rapunzels hair, but he wouldnt let The Mouth provoke him into cutting it, not after hed gotten it long enough to stop using gel to hold it in place. After a years time, he could finally just pull it back and fasten it.
The ponytail served as a symbol, an important one. He saw it as a sign of his new independence and a reminder to be patient with the world, and he refused to buckle under to some loudmouthed, self-appointed bleacher coach whod decided to make him her cause. This was only the fifth game of baseball hed played in twenty-two years, since being thrust into the role of provider for his seven-year-old brother, Dan, when Jack had been only seventeen himself.
He hadnt had time to play. Not just baseball, but anything. Hed been changing that, though. If only The Mouth
Strike three, youre out! the umpire called, ending the inning and Jacks mental wandering.
Sorry, he said to the first baseman as they shuffled into the screened dugout.
Turned out okay, his teammate Scott Lansing replied. They didnt get any runs out of it. That woman in the stands making you nervous?
I dont know what The Mouths making me feel. If shed yell at someone else once in a while, it probably wouldnt bother me so much. I just cant figure out why shes chosen me as her personal project. Stacy said shed try to talk to her tonight. Envy burrowed in as he watched a teammate knock the first pitch deep into left field, a skill Jack hadnt mastered yet. The woman was right about my switching positions with Drew. Im more effective at short than I was at third. I needed that extra split second of reaction time. And Ive almost gotten two hits since she told me to drop my front shoulder before I swing. I just wish shed kept on passing instructions through Stacy instead of yelling at me on the field.
I give you credit for rising to the occasion, Jack. Most guys wouldnt.
He pulled on an earlobe as his gaze wandered to where The Mouth sat. Unfortunately, shes right too often to ignore.
And you abhor mediocrity, especially in yourself.
Jack grinned as he stood and hefted a metal bat over his shoulder. Some things I cant change.
Mickey Morrison watched the man shed dubbed Ponytail stroll from the dugout to home plate. Keep your shoulder down, she ordered him telepathically as he sliced the air with the bat a couple of times. She tugged the bill of her L.A. Seagulls baseball cap a little lower on her forehead, grasped the wooden bench under her tightly with both hands and leaned forward in concentration, ignoring the person taking a seat beside her, jostling the bench.
Strike one!
Mickey groaned. Both eyes, Ponytail. Watch the ball with both eyes, she yelled at her self-appointed protg. She saw him flinch, then bear down, his lanky frame hardening visibly as he focused on her instructions.
Strike two!
Hed missed the ball by a mile, she thought, frustrated. Shed seen such potential in him. A few weeks ago hed been rawthe rookie of all rookies, doing everything wrong. But hed obviously been working hard in the interim. That pickup hed made in the field last inning proved he was keeping his eye on the ball more. Now if he would just focus as hard on the one being pitched to him.
Crack!
Mickey sprang up. Hed hit it! Hed actually hit the darn thing!
The ball caromed off an invisible divot in the field and angled past the center fielders legs.
Crank it up, Ponytail. Take second, she hollered as he hit first at full stride. She watched approvingly as he made a wide swing and pumped toward second. The outfielder snagged the errant ball, then fired it to the infield.
Slide! Slide! Mickey screamed, crouching, her arms extended in front of her as if she were on the field coaching him.
An explosion of dirt rocketed above the heads of the players near second. When the dust cleared, Ponytail lay stretched along the base line spitting dirt, his fingers digging into the base.
Out! the umpire shouted.
The call brought raucous cheers from the opposing team and supporters, and cries of outrage from those who thought Blue needed glasses. The man sprawled in the settling dust dragged himself to his knees, then uncurled slowly upward, wobbling a bit before taking a step. He brushed off his hands, Chung Lis Pizza T-shirt and filthy jeans as he started a slow jog to the dugout.
Hey, Ponytail! Real men slide feet first!
Silence descended. Shed gone too far this time. She hadnt only maligned his athletic ability but his masculinity, as well. Holding her breath, Mickey watched as he stopped, swept off his cap to whack dust against his leg, then pinned her to the bench with his direct look, his chest heaving from the exertion of the run. He changed direction and headed straight toward her, not stopping until he stood at the base of the stands, ten feet from where she sat.
Why? he queried, panting.
Mickey gulped, grateful she could read the single word on his lips, because the sound was swallowed up by her thundering pulse. Why what?
Why should I slide feet first?
The question penetrated the rhythm section in her head, and she straightened a little in relief. Shed been afraid he was asking why she was picking on him, and she didnt have an answer to that, except that she admired his gritand he seemed self-confident enough to take it. Because you can ruin your hands going head first, either by jamming them into the base or by the baseman stepping on em.
His fists propped low on his hips, the hat dangling from his little finger, he cocked his head as if considering her words. When his gazedeep blue, she noted, a nice contrast to his ebony-colored hairbored into hers, she tugged her cap down even farther.
Can you teach as well as criticize? he asked.
What?
Can you teach me to slide?
She shifted uncomfortably. I guess
Monday at six oclock, here?
Im sure many of your teammates could give you the same instructions
Im asking you.
Play ball! the umpire called.
Monday at six, he repeated, a man obviously accustomed to having orders obeyed. Be here.
Mickey watched him trot into the dugout, then make a comment to a teammate who laughed uproariously.
Well, she didnt have to obey his command, she thought militantly. She hadnt committed herself to anything. But if she didnt show up, she couldnt come to any more games, she argued with herself. And she wanted to keep coming. Needed to. She hadnt felt so alive in years. Two years, to be exact.
Hi.
At the simple greeting, Mickey turned her head toward the young woman seated beside her. She recognized her as the one shed spoken to the first game shed observed, last month when shed been in town looking for a place to rent. Always drawn to baseball games, whether professional or little league, she had found a seat and watched, then had become increasingly frustrated at the third basemans ineptness. She had sent him suggestions on how to improve, using the young woman as intermediary.
Mickey eyed her now, noting she wore a summer shift, as she always did, this one a tiny flowered print. Mickey returned the greeting, then asked, Have you been sent to question my intentions?
Howd you guess?
The male ego is a fragile thing, she said, drawing a grin and a nod from her companion.
My names Stacy.
A soft, feminine name to match her clothes and long, silky hair, Mickey thought with an inward sigh. The kind of woman every tomboy dreads. I dont have answers for you, Stacy.
Not even a name?
My name would mean nothing to him.
I see. You just dispense advice to the baseball-lorn. Sort of a Dear Yogi Berra.
Mickey smiled. Actually, this is the first time Ive given advice uninvited.
Why wont you at least tell us who you are?
Because Im trying not to lean on anyone. I need to find happiness alone, she thought. She forced herself to ignore Stacys friendly overture. Standing, she looked at the field briefly, then returned her gaze to the curious woman seated beside her. Tell Ponytail
His name is
I dont want to know his name. Just tell him to lose the jeans and buy some baseball pants by Monday.
Thats it? Thats all you could get out of her? Jack queried Stacy, his voice rising above the din at Chung Lis Pizza Parlor, where the team had gone after their losing effort. Buy some baseball pants?
Im not skilled at interrogation like you, Jack. She obviously doesnt want to make friends.
He drummed his fingers on the lacquered wood tabletop. How old is she, can you tell?
Around thirty, I guess.
Wedding ring?
Stacy smiled. No-o-o.
She uses that baseball cap like a shield over her face.
Are you asking if shes pretty?
He turned to face her directly and noted the humor sparkling in her eyes. All right. Im humbling myself. I want to know everything you can tell me.
Ive never seen her without sunglasses, but from what I can tell, shes passably attractive in that woman-jock kind of way.
Jack leaned back, resting an ankle over the opposite thigh. Youre enjoying the hell out of this, arent you, Stace?
Her glee-filled laugh made him frown.
Ive just never seen you thwarted, Stacy said, the grin not leaving her face. Or frazzled. To be honest, it fascinates me. In all the time we were married, I rarely saw you not in control. Impatient maybe, but in control. Not that I saw a whole lot of you, given your obsession with work.
Im changing, he said, gritting out the words.
Yes, you are. Okay, I can tell you this much. Her hair is almost as military short as you used to wear yours. Its kind of palomino blond, looks pretty straight around the edge of the cap. Her front teeth are white and even. I didnt ask her to open her mouth
Stacy, he warned.
Well, gosh, Jack. If Id known I was supposed to be inspecting her like a horse at auction, I would have attempted to get more information.
Do you have any idea why shes singled me out?
Could be your hunky body.
Jack snorted. Yeah. All five-eleven, one hundred and eighty pounds of me.
And shes about five-four. Perfect height difference. In bed and out, she added.
He straightened. Im not interested in her as a bed partner.
Arent you?
Im curious. And I dont like unanswered questions.
Ha! Youre attracted. Youve never been challenged by a woman before, and it intrigues the heck out of you.
He sipped from his mug of beer before responding. Maybe.
At a signal from her husband, Drew, the teams third baseman, Stacy stood. Weve got to relieve the babysitter. Good luck Monday.
Thanks. Give Dani a kiss from me.
Mickeys decision to rent the cabin she now occupied had been based on several factors, the first being the town itself, Gold Creek, which was a forty-five-minute drive from the community college where she would soon be teaching algebra. Nestled in the foothills of Northern Californias mother lode country, Gold Creek was large enough to offer reasonable anonymity and small enough to feel like a home, not just a place.
Another lure was the stream that backed the property about fifty yards from the cabin. More than a trickle, less than a fishermans paradise, its appeal lay in the soothing sounds of nature, at rest and at play. Having lived her thirty-two years in the city, the adjustment had been a challenge, especially since she couldnt hear traffic or sirens or even children playing. Her only neighbor within earshot was her landlord, who owned a huge log house just out of sight from her smaller version, his guest house.
The cabin itself shone in the natural setting like a topaz in gold. Newly remodeled by the owner, it was a house designed for easy living, amounting to a large studio apartment, with rooms hinted at by creative use of furniture or cabinets. A big pine bed sitting atop a raised platform pretended to be a bedroom, the bed cocooned by curtains on a ceiling runner, blocking it from the living quarters, although she never bothered pulling the curtains. She looked forward to winter, when she could enjoy watching the fireplace while she lay cozy in her bed. The bathroom, a rustically elegant large room containing not only a shower but a whirlpool tub as well, was tucked away on the sunset side of the building.
But the deciding factor in her choosing the cabin had been the window seat. Built into the back wall overlooking the stream and pine trees, it was a huge half circle of crystal clear glass that started two feet from the floor and ended at the ten-foot knotty pine ceiling. The pillows stacked on the oversize wooden seat invited snuggling. It had become her refuge, the place where she prepared her syllabus for class, wrote letters, daydreamed, escaped nightmares and faced her aloneness.
She burrowed there an hour after the game, watching the early-August sky darken and wondering what to do about Monday. She hadnt wanted to get involved, with anything or anyone. This would force involvement when for the first time in her life she so wanted to be wholly responsible for herself.
Shed lost so much, and she needed to be free to grieve. Shed also given up a lot to embark on this quest for self-forgiveness and acceptance.
Eyes closed, she leaned her head against the window frame and pictured the tall, dark man whose ponytail proclaimed him a rebel. She didnt want to find him attractive, or desirable, or even interestingbut hed challenged her when shed been a verbal tyrant to him, and that intrigued her.
She didnt want to be drawn to him, and she wondered how she could stop the wheels she had unintentionally set in motion.
Two
Okay, his pride was stung. He admitted that much to himself. Jack glanced at his watch again and frowned. Ten after six. Hed made assumptions from a minuscule amount of contact. Assumption number one, she was gutsy. Two, she genuinely wanted to help improve his game. Three, and he acknowledged this as wishful thinking, she was drawn to him in a way she could neither understand nor control.
Over the past four days, hed gradually come to feel flattered at her interest. Nowat eleven minutes after sixhe realized his mistake. He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his generic gray polyester baseball pants and ignored the unfamiliar feel of cleats under his feet. A pair of lightweight leather gloves burned through his back pocket. He had invested time and money preparing for his lesson, and she had the nerve not to show up?
He crouched at first base, or rather where first base would be if a game were on. Scooping up a handful of dirt, he rubbed the gritty stuff between his fingers as he debated how long to give her.
Plop! He looked up as a heavy white square cushion with a rigid tube attached landed beside him, shooting up a halo of dirt.
Ram that into the pipe at second, she called. Cant practice without a base.
Jack fought to control his relief, which came swift and unapologetic at the teacherlike sound of her voice and the sight of her ever-present L.A. Seagulls cap. He trotted down to second and shoved in the square, then walked back. Id about given up on you, he said toward where she stood leaning against a railing, obviously as close as she planned to get to him.
I debated, she admitted. I decided your team needs you to learn this.
So, youre doing it for the team, not me?
Im doing this for baseball, Ponytail.
He repressed a chuckle. Ah. Ive lowered the standards of the whole game, have I?
I think theres hope, or I wouldnt be here.
He wandered closer, noting how she tugged her cap down defensively the nearer he got. When he saw she was about to take flight, he stopped. I cant keep calling you The Mouth. Whats your name?
She seemed to grab a smile back just before it could escape. Coach.
He shook his head slowly. Why doesnt that surprise me?
Ready to get to work, Ponytail?
I think Im going to regret this, he muttered as he returned to first base and awaited her instructions.
First of all, move to the outfield so you can practice on the grass. When youve teamed how to slide where you cant kill yourself, youll move onto the dirt.
You gonna just stand there and yell instructions to me? he called over his shoulder as he jogged out to the grass.
Yep.
How do I know you can do this if you dont demonstrate it?
A person doesnt have to be able to do in order to teach, Ponytail. She walked parallel to him, one hand on the railing, stopping when he did. Close your eyes. Visualize what Im describing. Go through it in your head. If a part isnt clear, well do it again until it is. Dont hesitate to stop me and ask questions. Okay?
Jack closed his eyes. You want to know if I can touch my nose with my finger?
Her sigh was both loud and dramatic. Let me guess. Youre in law enforcement.
Close. Lawyer.
She groaned audibly. And I said you could stop me anytime and ask questions. We wont get out of here until dark.
He grinned. We have to be out of here by about 6:50. League takes over then.
She looked at her watch. Okay, weve got half an hour. Lets go. Close your eyes. She talked him through the steps, meticulously explaining the reasons for every action, then made him practice again and again on the grass until he could consistently slide while keeping his torso almost upright, trailing his left hand, his left leg tucked under him.
Youre ready to move onto dirt, Ponytail.
Am I? Every muscle complained as he walked to first base.
Ready as youll ever be.
Somehow I dont find that comforting, Coach. He liked the sound of her laugh, a little wicked, a little playful. You think I can master this in one lesson?
Sure. Remember to keep your right foot up so you dont catch your spikes, then hit the bag with your heel, push off with your left leg, and youll be standing.
Cant I just slide into it?
Its going to depend on how much time you think you have. If you can stay on the ground and sort of slide around the base and catch it as you go by, thats okay. Usually, there isnt enough time. And, of course, if youre needed to break up a double play
One step at a time, Coach.
Concentrating, he stood for a few seconds just staring at second base, then he took off at a dead run and dropped into a slide when she yelled, Now!
His cleat caught the edge of the bag and held before he could push himself upright, the impact jarring him from toe to head. He lay there swearing for fifteen seconds before her voice penetrated the buzz in his ears.
Try it again.
I dont think I can even walk.
You just learned what not to do, Ponytail. This time keep your foot up a little higher.
Jack rolled over and pushed himself up, fighting the pain vibrating through his body. He hobbled back to first. How is it you know so much about this game? he asked.
Baseball is my life.
Her droll tone drew a laugh from him.
Youre doing great, Ponytail.
At her praise, a resurgence of energy numbed his pain. Youre a good teacher.
Thanks. So, do you have a law practice here in town?
He shook his finger at her. No fair. I wont answer personal questions if you wont.
She tipped her head to one side. Ill bet youre dynamite.
What makes you say that?
Youre willing to work harder than the average person. You wouldnt be content being anything less than best.
They stared at each other, making some kind of connection that Jack couldnt describe, only feel. He turned away when some people entered the stadium.
Twice more, she announced. Then well call it a night.
Each attempt got easier and better. He yanked up the base after the last slide and headed toward her.
Keep it, she said, backing away. Use it to practice.
Will you work with me again?
You dont need me.
Will you come watch the game Thursday?
She hesitated. Ill be there, she said finally. One last word of advice.
Yeah?
Have you got a hot tub or Jacuzzi?
Yeah.
Go home and soak. Take a couple of Ibuprofens. Or by tomorrow morning you wont be able to move.
Thanks. Ill do that. He wanted to see her eyes, which couldnt lie like words could, but she never stopped hiding. His gaze lingered on her lips, then blazed a trail down her throat and beyond, taking a detour at the nicely rounded breasts her loose T-shirt couldnt hide. Baggy shorts revealed slender thighs and drew attention to her legs, lightly muscled and delicately tanned. When he sent his gaze on a return trip, he sensed her cataloging him, as well. His muscles tightened in response.
People milled around them, in the stands and on the field, but he paid little attention to them, his gaze locked with hers.
He found his voice only after someone asked him to move. See you Thursday, Coach. Hefting the base over his shoulder, he watched her jog up the stairs and out of the stadium. Thursday, he repeated to himself. Three days. It might as well be a month.
From the dugout, Jack surveyed the stands. She usually arrived fifteen minutes or so after the game startedto avoid pregame conversation with anyone, he guessedbut he thought she might be there for the entire game this time, to watch his progress.
His ex-wifes husband plopped onto the bench beside him.
Have you met your tenant yet? Drew asked.
Nope. I was in Chicago the weekend he moved in, but I left a note telling him to give me a call. Since I hadnt heard from him, I walked over the other day to introduce myself but his truck was gone.
Whats the guys name again?
Mickey Morrison. Hes supposed to start teaching math at the community college next week.
Any regrets about renting the place out?
Jack shrugged. It was cozy enough while I was remodeling the big house, but no. It served its purpose.
Except Danis furious that you gave her dollhouse away.
Jack smiled, remembering how his daughter had declared the guest house her playroom and that he absolutely could not let anyone else live there. Theres nothing quite like a scorned four-year-old, he said to Drew.
Shes a special little girl, Jack. You and Stacy have done a great job raising her.
Youre contributing your share. He continued his perusal of the stands as Drew tapped the ground repeatedly with his bat.
I wanted to thank you for letting her call me Dad. It means a lot to me, Drew said after clearing his throat.
Jack shifted on the bench, hammering down the flash of insecurity hed been struggling to control ever since Dani had broached the subject with him. She seemed concerned that when her new sibling arrives he or she would be confused by big sister not calling you Dad. She calls me Daddy, so its different.
Shes always been particularly sensitive to peoples feelings. Amazingly so, for a child.
My brother was like that. God, I miss him so much. If Dan had lived
Life would have been different for all of us, Jack. Immeasurably different.
Unwilling to step back in time, Jack tuned in to the noise and activity around them, catching snippets of conversation and laughter until he spotted The MouCoach sliding into a vacant seat. He raised a hand to her and was rewarded with a quick wave in return. Inordinately glad that shed already singled him out from so far away, his confidence rose. Maybe hed hit a home run today, or start a double play, or
He struck out once, flied out twice and got on first because of a fielders error. Not exactly the shining example hed wanted to present. Plus hed never even had a chance to slide. On the other hand, hed gotten three runners out at second and had thrown right on target to the first baseman.
Coach had been uncharacteristically quiet during the game, as if she sensed his disappointment over his performance. He missed the badgering. He wanted to hear, Hey, Ponytail, followed by a caustically given instructionor even an insult. Wondering where her gruff exterior had fled, he kept an eye on her as he shook hands with the opposing team members after the game. He saw her descend the stairs to stand by the railing, and he walked over, gauging how close to get by observing her body language, a skill at which he was becoming entirely too competent.
Your fieldings improving, she said.
My hitting stinks.
She shrugged. It could use some work.
Im willing to put my ego aside again, if youre willing to teach me.
He watched her ponder his words. The old Jack would have pushed. The newer, improved model dug deep within himself for patience.
Bring a couple of bats and as many softballs as you can borrow, she said after a long debate.
Monday at six? Why do you look so sad? he wanted to ask, noting weariness in her posture, as if shed been defeated in battle and needed to mend.
She nodded, then pushed away from the railing.
You okay, Coach? he asked as she turned away.
Mickey shoved her hands into her pockets. I need a hug, she wanted to say. Im lonely and Im tired of not sleeping. And I get scared of the noises in the woods.
Coach?
She shifted to face him again. He had a nice face, a face with characterdeep blue eyes dark with obvious concern for her, a jaw that held an edge of stubbornness, a mouth that looked as if it could utter soothing words or deliver hot, arousing kisses, both of which she could have used, neither of which she dared accept. He projected self-confidence and strength. He wasnt afraid to take chances. He wasnt afraid to fail. She wondered if he could teach her that as easily as shed taught him how to slide.
Im fine, Ponytail. I was just thinking about the Help Wanted sign I saw hanging on the snack bar. You might keep that in mind as an option.
He looked relieved that she teased him, seemed her old self again. Shed gotten good at bluffing. Too good, she realized. Shed had a difficult week, had missed her family more than she ever could have imagined. Aside from her lesson with Ponytail and polite exchanges with clerks in stores, she hadnt spoken to anyone except a dog that joined her by the stream one day this week. Hed laid his head in her lap and let her pet him for a few minutes, then after one lick of her face hed loped away, his golden coat gleaming in the sunlight, his tags jangling.
Were all headed to Chung Lis Pizza. Would you like to come? Ponytail asked, moving a few steps closer, as if he thought he needed to catch her as she fainted.
Thanks, but Ive got to get home. Ill see you Monday.
I hope its going to hurt less than the first lesson, he called as she jogged up the stairs.
No guarantees, she yelled back. No guarantees, she repeated softly to herself. Not in baseball. Not in life.
Keep your weight on your back foot, then step into the swing, Mickey instructed him as he stood at home plate. And
I know. Keep my shoulder down and both eyes on the ball.
Right. She pitched the ball, which landed in a poof of dirt two feet in front of the plate.
He stared at it, then lifted his head, his mouth clamped against a smile. That was just to see if I was paying attention, right?
Im a little rusty, she said in apology, fighting a returning smile. Add a sense of humor to the list of appealing things about him, she thought. Shed looked forward to today more than shed wanted to, more than was healthy to achieve her goals. Shed forsaken leaning on her family for a while, until she came to terms with herself as an independent person. Now she was in danger of leaning on this man, who was a tempting combination of character, sexiness and, she suspected, comfort.
Glad to know youre not perfect, Coach.
He hit the next pitchalmost straight up.
Didnt anyone teach you to call fore, Ponytail?
Get the pitch up over the plate and I wont have to golf it, he chided.
The next pitch sailed over the plateten feet off the ground.
Very funny, he said, grinning. You got that out of your system?
Maybe.
You like a challenge, dont you?
Mickey pictured her three brothers and the constant competition theyd all given one another while growing up. Shed learned early to play hardor trickyor else be left behind. And being left behind was worse than occasionally putting on a dress to please her mother.
Ponytail showed steady improvement over the half hour they practiced, learning to level out his swing and concentrate just on connecting, not always going for home runs. They had to stop every so often to gather the balls from the outfield, otherwise she worked him constantly.
Thursday will be the last game for the season, he told her as they collected balls for the last time.
Really? So soon? Now what? When will I see you again?
The towns not large enough to support more than five teams. We play each other twice, then were done.
I take it you hadnt played much baseball before this.
What was your first clue, Sherlock? he asked as he approached, carrying an armload of balls.
Jack leaned toward her; most of the balls spilled into the sack she held, some dropped to the ground. They crouched simultaneously, their heads almost colliding, their hands grasping the same ball. She tried to pull back; he tightened his grip on her hand.
Whats your name? he asked quietly, intently-
She shook her head as she jerked her hand away.
Why wont you tell me?
IIm going through a transition right now. I need...I need to handle it alone. She stood, then backed away, watching him as if she thought hed lunge after her.
The last thing he needed right now was a woman with problems, but he also recognized fear when he saw it, and unwillingly decided hed give just about anything to identify the source and chase it away. How could someone he knew nothing about have become so important, so fast? Why had her well-being superseded everything else in his life? Hed barely been able to concentrate on the textbook he was writing, and his deadline threatened imminently. He couldnt afford the time his mind had been giving her. You dont need friends? he asked before she could run off.
I need to be a friend to myself, she said quietly, turning her head toward a group of people just entering the stadium.
His lawyers instincts sprang to attention. A hundred questions crossed his mind. Had she been abused? Had she run away from someone or something? Was she hiding out? How could he help her?
Without the baseball games, youre going to disappear from my life, he said. That would be a mistake.
She looked back at him. Why?
Jack took three steps toward her, stopping when her shoulders tensed. Theres a connection between us. Something that made you pick me out of a crowd even though you didnt know anything about me. The things you yelled to me would have brought some men to their knees. How did you know I wouldnt fall apart, or strangle you?
She shrugged, as if she hadnt spent a minute analyzing it. Your posture, your smile. I dont know. You project confidence. The guys on your team gave you a bad time. You laughed it off and kept plugging away. She tugged the bill of her cap. Well, I guess Id better get going. See you Thursday. She started up the stairs, then suddenly spun around again. You did really well today.
Thanks. You made it easy. He wanted to follow her, force her to take off the damned sunglasses and cap, look him in the eyetell him how he could help her. Hed been making a concerted effort in the past year to be more spontaneous, but hed also discovered that spontaneity sometimes took some planning, a paradoxical idea hed never uttered aloud to anyone.
Hed have to think about planning something spontaneous for Thursday night.
They were down by four runs in the top of the fifth inning. A base hit and two walks loaded the bases for Ponytail, his third at bat this game. Hed connected with solid singles his first two times at the plate. If his luck held this time, the lead would probably be cut in half.
He didnt even swing at the first pitch. In fact, he looked frozen in place, the pressure too much to take.
Thataway, Ponytail. Wait for your pitch, Mickey yelled.
He dropped the bat, miming comic amazement that she was calling out encouragement. She noted people around her smiling amongst themselves over her lack of nastiness to him, and she heaved a huge internal sigh. For someone who had wanted anonymity, shed sure earned a reputation in a short time. Since shed never been content to sit on the sidelines before, she didnt know why she had expected herself capable of it now.
She watched him scoop up a handful of dirt to absorb the sweat off his palms, then settle in at the plate again.
Crack!
The ball sailed over the shortstops head and dropped between the center and left fielders. The stands erupted with cheering; Mickey knew he couldnt possibly hear her yelling instructions to him as she watched the progress of the ball and the outfielders chasing it. His teammates shouted and motioned for him to keep running.
One runner scored. Two. Three. He rounded third and headed to home. The ball soared in to the cutoff man at second base.
Slide! Mickey screamed, cupping her hands into a human megaphone. Slide!
Whoosh! Down he went, streaking into home amidst a rooster tail of dirt and dust at the same moment the ball landed with a pop in the catchers mitt.
Safe! the umpire bellowed.
His teammates mobbed him at the plate where he lay gasping, their voices rumbling with congratulations and surprise at the in-the-park home run. The only thing Jack could hear distinctly was Coachs voice, an octave higher than the mens and clearly thrilled at his success.
All right, Ponytail! You did it! You did it!
Someone stuck out a helping hand. Jack grasped it and was pulled to his feet. Which one of you dropped that piano on my back as I got to third? he asked, doubled over, eliciting laughter from the team as he was swept into their circle of celebration. Finding an unexpected well of energy, he broke out of the group and jogged away from them, toward the stands, toward Coach.
Across the field, past the opponents dugout, up the stairs he trotted, until he stood in front of her and could see her delayed reaction to his presence. Lifting a hand to her cap, he spun it around until the bill pointed backward. Gently, he pulled off her sunglasses and passed them to the person beside her. He settled his hands on her shoulders, and he could feel imminent flight within her and see caution in her eyes. Brown eyes, he noted, clear as aged brandy.
Ive won a lot of cases in court, Coach, but nothing ever made me feel as good as this. Thanks. I couldnt have done it without you. That said, he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.
Spontaneous combustion. The words raced through his mind as what hed planned as a friendly kiss of gratitude exploded into something much more. Stunned, more winded than hed been after the run around the bases, he pulled back after five seconds on a roller coaster that had reached the top of the first hill instantly and started a swift descent into frenzied madness.
Mickey opened her eyes slowly as Ponytail pulled back; she looked into eyes as startled as her own must be. Knowing this moment was all she would ever have of this man, she grabbed his T-shirt with both fists and held him there.
The familiar odors of sweat, dirt and glove leather assailed her, sending her careening back to adolescence, to a happy and carefree time. For an instant she was transported into the dugout at the spring training camp of the L.A. Seagulls, the major league baseball team her father had managed for the past fourteen years. Comfort, familiarity, homecomingshe felt all this as she twisted his T-shirt in her hands and dragged him back to her.
Youre welcome, she murmured. Standing on tiptoe, she looped her arms around his neck and tugged. Amidst catcalls and whistles all around them, she kissed him back, reveling in the arousing taste of his mouth and the solid comfort of his body.
She wandered aimlessly, lost in a storm of feeling that obliterated everything from thought. For two years shed been dead, worse than deadlifeless. Now there was just him, and her, and their embracelifes most glorious celebration. Then from below her a tiny, high-pitched voice sliced into the maelstrom.
Mommy, why is that lady kissing my daddy?
Three
Ice water. Someone had dumped a fifty-five-gallon drum of frigid liquid on her, Mickey thought as she jerked herself out of his arms.
Shh, Dani, she heard a woman say.
But, Mommy
Mickey realized it was Stacy who spoke to the child, a little girl dressed in a summer shift like her mother always wore. A little girl with long, silky brown hair like her mother and dark blue eyes like...Ponytail. Her father.
Mickeys hands flew up to cover her mouth as she realized what it all meant. He was married. Married to Stacy, the only person Mickey had spoken to at the games, the person shed passed instructions to Ponytail through. They were a family.
And shed kissed him. Hed given her a friendly kiss. Well, sort of. It had escalated into something else. But shed pulled him back for another longer, hotter, deeper kiss. He could have stopped her, though. Couldnt he?
Furious and embarrassed, Mickey snatched back her sunglasses and leapt onto the bench behind her, then the one beyond that. Another. Another. Lord, for a small stadium, it seemed endless. She couldnt get out fast enough.
Jack watched her take off. A few seconds passed before he interpreted the look of horror on her face. Realizing the conclusion shed jumped to, he scrambled to follow her.
Coach, wait! He had the advantage of longer legs, but she was being chased by a demon. He gave up trying to explain in private. Were divorced, Coach! Im not married! he yelled as she hit the top of the stadium, ready to take flight.
His plastic cleats spun on the concrete stairs and he tripped just as he pulled within arms reach, calling out as he stumbled, and fell with a thud.
Jack! She dropped down beside him, her hands fluttering over him.
You know my name, he said in surprise, pain welling as he sought her eyes through the sunglasses shed shoved back on to free her hands.
Well, of course I know your name. She growled the words impatiently. Ive been sitting in the stands for weeks. How could I not know your name. Where do you hurt?
My right ankle.
A crowd migrated up the stadium steps. Jack grabbed her hand as she started to move aside when the first baseman, Scott, knelt beside him. Dont go, Jack said to her. I need to talk to you.
Youre in pain.
Please. You misunderstood.
Howre you doing? Scott asked as he ran efficient hands down Jacks leg and ankle.
Go away, Jack ordered. I need to talk to Coach first.
Could be broken, buddy. We should get you to the hospital ER.
A few minutes delay wont hurt. Back off, Scott. Coach?
She hovered over him, her expression serious. Im really proud of you, Ponytail. You did great.
Not Ponytail. Jack.
She swallowed. Jack.
Now tell me yours.
Coach. Its Coach.
Im not going to see you again, am I? he asked, already knowing the answer.
I dont know. Its a small town.
So, we may run into each other, but youll still avoid anything more personal.
I have to, she whispered. Im sorry. I cant change it.
He squeezed her hand; his eyes closed briefly as a wave of pain washed over him. He couldnt decide which hurt the mosthis ankle or the fact he may never see her again. I cant ever remember feeling like that about a kiss. And you...you pulled me back for more.
Im sorry, she repeated helplessly, and he gathered she meant for more than the kiss.
Scott knelt beside him again. Lets go.
He sat up, wincing as his leg was jostled. Stacy can take me. You go back to the game.
Whos the doctor here? Scott asked.
Jacks brows lifted.
Gynecologists are allowed to treat broken bones, you know.
Ill go with you, said the third baseman, Drew, leaning over Scotts shoulder. You finish the game, Scotty.
Oh, great, Jack muttered. Will you give me a sucker if I dont cry?
It was patients like you that made me settle on pediatrics, Drew said, shaking his finger at Jack.
Jack eyed the woman beside him suppressing a smile. Dont you dare laugh, Coach.
She raised her hands, palms out, and shook her head solemnly, although the curve of her mouth belied the attempt at seriousness.
He turned back to the men. Look, if two of us leave, well have to forfeit the game. If only I go, the games legal. Itd be nice to have one in the win column.
One of your two entirely competent physician-teammates will accompany you, Scott said, brooking no argument Choose.
Jack focused on Coach. Fill in, will you?
Me?
Yeah. You can play, I gather.
Well, yes, but its been a long time
Come on, sub for me. We can bring the outfield rover in to cover first for Scott.
The umpire announced they had two minutes to get the game started again or hed call a forfeit. All three men turned to the woman known only as Coach.
The games forfeited if I play. This is a mens league, she said.
Jack looked at Scott. Is that true?
I hadnt thought about it. Yeah, I suppose it is.
Look, I was responsible. Why dont I take him? she asked.
Once again she was the focus of their appraisal.
I dont have my car with me, but I imagine one of you would let me borrow
Mine, Jack said. Well take mine. He wasnt going to give anyone else the opportunity to offer.
After being assured that Scott would call ahead to the ER on his cellular phone, Jack was helped out to the parking lot and into his Jeep by two spectators. He rested his foot carefully on the floorboard and leaned back stiffly. Coach had disappeared while they had negotiated the parking lot, then reappeared beside him before the car door was shut. Carefully, she set an ice-filled towel over his ankle.
Scott thought it would help, she said, looking up at him. Is it too heavy?
Its all right. Forcing himself to relax, he slumped as she scrambled around the front of the car, climbed in and adjusted the drivers seat for her shorter legs.
Can you handle a manual transmission? he asked as she started the engine, then regretted the question when she turned a youve-got-to-be-kidding expression on him. Sorry. Do you know where the hospital is?
On Allendale, isnt it? Across the street from the minimall?
Right. The question in her voice confirmed his assumptionshe hadnt lived in Gold Creek long. He winced as she hit a speed bump.
Mickey glanced at him after she heard his quickly indrawn breath. Sorry. Does it hurt a lot?
He clenched the dashboard. Lets see. Should I be a real man and say, Aw, its nothing? Or should I tell you the truth?
It hurts like hell? she ventured, risking a quick look his way as she slowed for a red light.
He closed his eyes. The ice helps. Thanks.
She negotiated the streets as slowly as traffic would allow, wishing he would talk more. After all, she was a captive audience. He could ask all the questions hed been dying to ask. He remained quiet. It drove her crazy.
Are you furious with me? she asked finally.
Jack didnt open his eyes. His silence had accomplished what he had intended: the conversational ball was in her court.
Should I be? he asked.
She groaned. I forgot you were a lawyer. Answer a question with a question. What a lovely tactic.
He kept his voice deliberately calm. Do I seem furious with you?
I dont know, Jack. What do you look like when youre furious?
He laughed softly at her retort. The ploy usually works, you know. He opened his eyes to a squint and enjoyed the sight of her, so close he could touch her if he chose.
Give it your best shot, Ponytail. I grew up with three exceptionally tricky brothers. Im prepared for anything.
Did they teach you to play baseball?
Nope.
You said you were out of practice. Does that mean you used to play a lot?
Yep.
One corner of his mouth twitched. Oh, yes, she was tough. And smart, and quick. Shed turned the tables on him very nicely.
Mickey grinned his direction, trying not to gloat. Shed managed to outmaneuver him, but he was being a good sport about it. Jack
Look out! he yelled.
She hit the brakes, barely avoiding crashing into the car that had come to a quick stop in front of them. Are you all right? she asked hurriedly as he moaned and shifted. She knew hed hit a phantom brake pedal instinctively, ramming his injured foot against the floorboard.
Yeah.
No, she decided, hearing the grittiness of the single word. Real men can say ow, you know.
He rubbed his chest. I think you inflicted more pain throwing your arm across me than I did myself with my foot. Are you used to a child sitting next to you or something?
No, she said abruptly, not realizing shed put an arm protectively, automatically, in front of him. Not anymore, she added in silence. Once again, I apologize for causing you pain.
Want to kiss it and make it better?
She smiled at the windshield, grateful there wasnt time to relive the past. You wish, she said, tossing a grin his way.
The hospital came into view.
Coach
Im going to stop at the emergency entrance and find someone with a wheelchair, she said, swinging into the well-marked driveway.
Before you go
Dont. She shifted into neutral, and pulled up the emergency brake, then turned to look at him. It cant go any further than this. Im sorry. More sorry than you can imagine.
Just tell me why.
Its too complicated.
Are you married?
Of course not.
Significant other?
None. I meant it when I said Im in transition. Theres just me. There can only be me. Ive really enjoyed the time weve shared, though. I hope I wasnt too hard on you.
On the contrary, Im grateful for your prodding. He touched her shoulder lightly and trailed his fingers down her arm, crossing from fabric to skin on his journey, then locked his fingers over hers as she clenched the gearshift. A favor?
Her body reacted to his touch in ways she had thought dead and forgotten. Breath became hard to control; her pulse went from zero to sixty in less than five seconds; even her breasts swelled. She watched him take note of her response, one visible reaction at a time, which served only to make her breathing more shallow, her pulse speed uninhibited down an empty freeway and the tips of her breasts harden painfully.
His voice turned to velvet. Could we share one kiss in private?
She didnt want to give him permission, but to relinquish responsibility to him and not be able to blame herself later. She wanted him just to take. He waited patiently for her to answer.
Jack heard the whisper of a yes only because he was watching her mouth. Not in any hurry, he pushed the bill of her cap around and pulled off her sunglasses. The pupils of her eyes constricted in the sunlight as he watched; her lips parted. Slowing his need, he pressed his mouth to the tender skin below her ear and felt her quivering response. Sliding his mouth along her jaw, he heard her whispered encouragement.
Yes. Oh, God. Yes, she breathed, exciting him beyond his dreams with her need.
First came the arousing feel of her lips against his, soft and fiery, then a sudden stillness as she held her breath, then a slow exhale accompanied by the slightest taste of an inquisitive tongue. She glided a shaking hand up his arm to his shoulder; her fingers dug into him. Oh, yes, this was heaven, he thought, curiosity somersaulting into desire as he slanted their mouths differently to deepen the kiss. We fit perfectly. The revelation meandered through his mind as they pulled each other closer across the center console. He slid his palm to her throat, felt the hammering pulse, then glided down
Someone knocked on the windshield.
You the one Doc Lansing called about? a uniformed attendant asked through the glass.
Murder came to mind. Jack nodded in the affirmative, but his gaze stayed on Coach, who seemed to be taking a long time drifting down from her own clouds. Who are you? he asked her as the attendant pushed a wheelchair around to the passenger side of the car.
Her hands shaking, she fitted her sunglasses back in place and lifted her cap to turn it around and resettle it. Ill park your car and leave your keys with the ER receptionist.
He couldnt say goodbye, so he brushed a hand down her cheek and turned from her to shift himself into the wheelchair. He never looked back.
Mickey watched him disappear through the electric doors, then leaned her forehead against the steering wheel for a minute to get her bearings.
His kiss should be labeled by the government as hazardous to ones health, for surely her temperature had elevated to a life-threatening degree. She leaned back and blew out a breath, her arms stiff, her hands locked on the steering wheel. He would be a significant roadblock in her need for independence. Too significant. She shoved the car into first gear.
After finding a parking place nearby, she sat on a bench under a tree for more than half an hour, giving him a chance to be taken into a room, then she climbed the ramp and entered the hospital. She glanced furtively around her but the waiting room yawned empty. She swept off her hat as she approached the reception window. Excuse me, she said to the woman working at a computer behind the counter.
Yes? May I help you?
I, ah, I wanted to know about a patient who was just brought in with an ankle injury.
Are you a relative?
No. Just a...friend. Is he all right?
Let me check. Have a seat, okay?
Mickey sank onto a bench. Dropping her cap on the table beside her, she picked up a magazine and flipped through it, seeing only a blur of words and pictures. Stark images of her last visit to a hospital emergency room flashed before her eyes. Im sorry. Theres nothing we can do. Sorry... Nothing... Sorry...
Nothing.
The door from the ER parking lot whooshed open, startling her. She brushed a weary hand down her face and stood as Scott Lansing approached.
Hows he doing? he asked, his eyes asking questions he must have sensed she wouldnt answer.
I dont know. Hes inside. Did you win?
Amazingly, we did. Ill go check on him.
Wait. Mickey caught his arm. From her pocket she dug out a set of keys. Give these to him, please. Ill be on my way.
He hefted the keys lightly. Hang tight. Ill see how he is.
After a few minutes, he returned. We havent been introduced. He extended his hand in greeting. Im Scott Lansing.
Yes, I know. How is he?
Ornery.
Please. She realized how pathetic she sounded when the man dropped his attempt at humor and started speaking in soothing doctor tones.
Hes going to be just fine. No break, just a bad sprain. You can go see him, if you want. Hes having his crutches fitted, then he can leave.
She had to get out of here, away from the reminders, away from the past. I...cant stay. Tell him...tell him Im glad hes all right. And Im sorry I caused him to be hurt.
Why dont you tell him yourself?
She could hear Jacks voice as he called thanks to someone, then the sound of the electric doors swinging open. She took three steps back, turned and ran.
Jack concentrated on negotiating the metal crutches through the door, and looked up only in time to catch a glimpse of Coachs tempting backside. He glanced at Scott.
Stubborn as you, Jack, old buddy. Do you want to go to Chung Lis or home?
Jack moved toward the glass exit door, but she was already out of sight. Pizza, I guess.
Sit down for a second while I pick up your prescription. Elevate that foot.
Jack maneuvered himself to a cushioned bench. Beside him on the low table laden with well-used magazines sat an L.A. Seagulls baseball cap. He picked it up and turned it in his hands. Coachs? It had to be. He checked it for a name tag; finding none, he lifted it to his face and breathed in the sweet, subtle fragrance of shampoo that lingered in the fabric. His body reacted with lightning speed to the scent, to the remembered taste of her mouth and her uncontrolled response. If theyd just had a little more time alone in the car, maybe he could have convinced her to trust him, or at least to meet with him again.
He spun the cap that his reluctant Cinderella had left behind. Folding it, he jammed it into his waistband, knowing he had to find her. Ignoring his long-trusted intuition, which told him he was inviting trouble by searching her out, he decided she was a woman in need of a happy ending. And hed make a helluva Prince Charming.
Four
Mickey stood in the courtyard absorbing the beauty of the community college campus, an award-winning school praised for its overall design and lush landscaping. Climbing ivy and leafy trees cleverly screened concrete and stucco buildings; flowering shrubs edged brick pathways weaving through the campus grounds. No city sounds intruded. The college was a community unto itself.
The frantic, disorganized first week of the semester was over; her second week of teaching had begun. Last Monday, shed been able to look forward to the batting lesson with Jack at the end of her first day of teaching. Now all that faced her was her new Monday, Wednesday and Friday routine: four classes of algebra, followed by an hour for lunch, then two hours tutoring in the math lab. She would have papers to grade in the evening, lessons to plan and individual counseling where needednothing overly demanding, nothing that would too quickly awaken long-dead emotions, just a gradual return to life.
She had forgotten how much she enjoyed teaching, had forgotten the pleasure of communicating with curious students, how satisfying it was to see awareness dawn on the face of someone who grasped a concept that a moment earlier had been a puzzle.
Hey, Ms. Morrison, someone called, coming up behind her as she stared at the koi swimming in the fish pond, the showcase of the schools courtyard.
She lifted her head and turned, then recognized the young man shed just tutored in the lab. Hey, Greg, she responded, smiling at the infectious grin on his face. Good work today.
It clicked, you know?
Drop by again on Wednesday, if you can. I think you can catch up in a hurry. Her gaze shifted to a man making his way on crutches past them. He looked up from focusing on the path before him and stared at her, surprised.
Ill be there, Greg said, walking backward. Thanks a lot.
Mickey blinked, breaking the intensity of the gaze with the man who had haunted her dreams for days. Haltingly, she said goodbye to Greg and watched as he jogged across the courtyard. He had been out of sight for seconds before she reluctantly faced forward again. Jack, she whispered.
Jack positioned a crutch on each side of her, trapping her between him and the koi pond. His head an inch from hers, he breathed in the now-familiar scent of her shampoo. His gaze took in her blond pixie hair and startled brandy-colored eyes. Even without touching her, he could feel the tautness of her body, clothed this time in a blue-and-white striped tailored blouse and matching blue slacks. You work here, he stated, noting the briefcase she carried.
He saw her glance in silent question at his own soft-sided satchel tied to the handle of his right crutch. I volunteer legal aid, and I occasionally speak to classes on topics that I have some expertise in, he told her. How about you?
I teach algebra, she replied, clearly uncomfortable at having to answer.
He pulled back in surprise and studied her face, her identity becoming blindingly clear. Your name wouldnt happen to be Mickey Morrison, would it?
Her eyes widened in obvious shock. How do you know that?
His tenant! All these weeks, and shed been living a hundred yards from him. Damn it all, what luck! He grinned. I thought you knew my name.
I know your first name.
Im Jack Stone.
Is that supposed to mean something to me?
It should.
Why?
The name Jack Stone doesnt ring any bells? he pressed.
Tell me why it should.
Ignoring her demand, he slid a hand into his satchel and withdrew her L.A. Seagulls baseball cap. She started to take it from him, but he yanked it out of reach. Not so fast. You stayed at the hospital for almost an hour. Obviously, you were worried about me. Why didnt you at least stay long enough to talk to me?
I told you. There cant be anything between us. Dont keep forcing the issue.
He used his most soothing voice, one hed cultivated to pull information from reluctant clients and witnesses. I know youre in some kind of trouble. Whatever it is, let me help you.
Mickey dipped her head. Lord, spare me from chauvinistic men, she thought, suddenly finding her sense of humor now that the shock of his knowing who she was had settled in. Look, you cant tell anyone, okay? she said, her voice hushed and deep.
He leaned closer. Of course.
She glanced around surreptitiously. I escaped a white slavery ring.
What?!
There were twenty of us, being guarded by a eunuch. He fell in love with me. She sighed dramatically. He helped me
Jack laughed, then plopped her cap backward on her head. I get the message, loud and clear, Coach.
Do you?
Whatevers bothering you isnt criminal, right?
What made you think otherwise? she asked, genuinely curious.
Call it jumping to conclusions after years in a business where being suspicious is part of the job description.
Yet you were willing to help me, even if Id done something
I didnt think youd done anything. I just thought you were in some kind of trouble. He backed up, providing her an escape route. I can see you want to get on your way.
Mickey frowned. He was giving up far too easily. She pulled the baseball cap off her head and ran her fingers through her hair. She was mesmerized by the intensity of the beautiful dark blue eyes directed on her, holding her hostage even after granting her freedom. Thanks for returning this.
Ive carried that with me everywhere Ive gone these past four days. I went to the grocery store and opened shampoo bottles until found which one matched the scent in your cap, just because I needed to know. Even getting caught was worth the embarrassment.
You...you got caught? Sniffing shampoos in the store? She tried very hard not to laugh.
He grinned. Yeah, by a smug teenaged boy who stood there with his arms folded across his chest until I loaded every bottle Id opened into a shopping cart and then followed me to make sure I bought them. But I needed to know everything I could about you. This cap was all I had. Its hard now to give it up.
She swallowed. No one had ever laid siege to her before. She wasnt the kind of woman men saw as a sex object. She was just Mickey, the woman whom people asked directions of, whom weekend daddies trusted to take their daughters safely into public rest rooms. She looked harmless. She was harmless. She was not the femme fatale that Jack seemed to be projecting her to be.
Jack could see hed flustered her, although he was mature enough not to gloat. He knew who she was. He knew how to find her. He could let her gofor now. So long, Coach, he said, maneuvering his crutches past her.
Wait a minute, Jack Stone, she called. Tell me why I should know you.
You just think about it, he called back, grinning. Ill be seeing you.
Mickey wrenched open the jar of fish bait and sniffed. Ugh! What an atrocious odor. Fish Love It! Guaranteed To Attract Even The Most Elusive, the store display had promised, while the jar label warned it was not for human consumption. As if anyone in their right mind would want to taste it!
She held the jar at arms length, her nose wrinkling and eyes squinting. Dipping her thumb and two fingers into the jar, she extracted a smidgen of bait. The texture of clay, it rolled easily into a ball she could press onto the hook. She stared at her hand when the task was done, then dipped it in the water before resolutely wiping it on the ground, hoping the dirt would mask any lingering scent.
Inexpertly, she cast the lure into the pool. Not happy with the location, she reeled it back in and tried again, twice, until she was satisfied with where it fell. She settled down on the bank, leaned against a boulder and finally relaxed enough to let her mind wander.
Jack Stone. Why should his name be familiar to her? What did he know that she didnt? He hadnt been off her mind all afternoon, not as she had driven home from work, or changed into denim cutoffs, T-shirt and slip-on sneakers, or gathered up her brand-new fishing gear before hiking down to the stream behind her house.
He knew her name now, and where she worked. She waited for the trepidation to come with the knowledge that he could find her easily. She felt only a glow spreading through her body. It wasnt thoughts of Jack, she rationalized, but the five oclock summer sun spilling through the leafy shelter of trees that was warming her. She closed her eyes and let the heat seep into her, relaxing, healing and even a little arousing. Her body began to tingle, much like a leg that has fallen asleep coming back to life with pinpricks of pleasure-pain.
As she heard the jangle of dog tags and the patter of paws, she opened her eyes slowly, reluctant to stop her bodys awakening.
Woof! The golden retriever barked in greeting as he nuzzled her neck with his wet nose and gave her a slow doggie kiss up her cheek.
Woof to you, too, Flee, Mickey said, smiling and fending off his affectionate caresses. Shed made friends with the beautiful dog over the past couple of weeks, discovering his name on one of his tags, his address identifying him as her landlords pet.
She really should go over and introduce herself, she thought for probably the twentieth time. But the woman at the property management company that had handled her lease said he was gone frequently, which was why hed contracted the company to take care of the details. If Mickey had any problems, she was to direct them to the company, not to her landlord. She figured he wanted as much privacy as she did.
She liked his dog, though, who offered undemanding companionship.
Flee, you mangy mutt! a mans voice called, accompanied by the sound of leaves being crushed underfoot in a slow, awkward cadence. If you knock me down one more time, I swear Ill
Mickey dropped her fishing pole and scrambled to her feet as the man about to issue a dire threat came into view. Jack! she gasped, watching as he caught sight of her and grinned. He negotiated his crutches over and around rocks, twigs and bumpy terrain to come up beside her.
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