Burning Up (5 page)

And swallowed a snort. Because wouldn’t
that
be just what she needed to round out this outing—to flash the young players warming up on the field? As if she didn’t have a bad enough name in this town as it was.

It would have been smarter to wear a nice conservative pair of shorts, she knew, but she was glad she hadn’t changed her clothes. For a short while, in the wake of her better-than-expected encounter with Kelly, she’d considered it. But in the end, she’d decided that a girl could simply never predict when her armor might come in handy in this town. Outrageous clothing was her armor of choice. And it was coming in handy now.

Then Janna’s words sank in, and she scooted closer to her cousin, leaning in to ask in a low voice, “What do you mean, do as you do?”

Janna shrugged. “When Sean and I divorced, I
lost most of my social circle,” she answered with matter-of-fact equanimity.

Macy stared. “He screwed around on you with a barely legal bimbo and your friends took
his
side?”

“Except for one or two of them, they were never really my friends, anyhow. Sean is a Purcell—I married up in their eyes.”

“Are you kidding?” An incredulous laugh escaped her. “Someone actually said that?”

“Nah, it wasn’t that blatant. But the cliques in this town continue long after high school.” She gave an impatient shake of her head. “No. That makes it sound like it’s a Sugarville thing, and it’s not. This sort of social maneuvering goes on everywhere. Everyone was friendly while Sean and I were married—and a few of them I’ve remained friends with. But for the most part, when he dumped me, so did the group we socialized with.”

Macy blew out a quiet breath. “I’m sorry, Janny. That must have been rough.”

Janna shrugged again. “Shit happens. You know that better than most.”

“She’s wearing a damn dog collar,” a woman on the bleachers said loudly. “I’ve never seen anything so stupid.”

Twisting around, Macy located the speaker and gave her a slow appraisal. “Interesting fashion criticism, sugar, coming from a woman who wears burgundy lip liner with pink lipstick.”

Angry color scalded the woman’s cheeks. “Bitch.”

“Yes. I am. Hence the collar.”

She heard a muffled laugh and turned back around. Charlie’s mother, Shannon, stood nearby with another woman, but if the snicker she’d heard came from either of them she saw no evidence of it now.

“Hey, ladies.” Shannon greeted them with easy cheer, flashing the ready smile Macy had noticed when she’d dropped the boys off at Charlie’s house earlier. She was a big woman with a big laugh and the same orangy-red hair as her son’s. “Mind if we join you?”

“Please do.” She patted the blanket next to her.

“Thanks. You’ve got a primo spot here.” The women settled on the blanket next to her, then Shan non leaned back so Macy could see the quietly pretty brunette on her other side. “Grace, this is Macy O’James. Macy, Grace Burdette.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” She reached around Shannon to offer her hand, but froze midshake after the woman accepted it. “Wait. You’re
Miss
Burdette? As in the fourth-grade teacher?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“I’ll say.” Belatedly, she released the other woman’s hand. And grinned. “My nephew Tyler’s going to be in your class this fall and he talks about it as if he won the lottery in the teacher sweepstakes.”

Grace’s face pinked up. “Isn’t that nice? Not to mention flattering.” She smiled crookedly. “I mean, it’s not like I’m a famous MTV video star.”

“No, you’re a teacher with serious word-of-mouth buzz going for her. That’s much cooler.”

Grace smiled in pleasure, then the game started and their attention focused on the Sugarville Sentinels who, as home team, fielded first.

Uncle Bud had given Macy the skinny on this league. Apparently, Little League sanctioned teams played in the spring, which tended to be a busy time in the farming communities. So several towns in the county had banded together to form a youth league of its own. The junior and high schools played teams from all over the state, so they had to adhere to the regular schedule. But the younger kids drew their competition from a smaller pool, which gave the parents more leeway to work around planting and harvesting schedules.

Not that it would have ever occurred to her to question the timing if Uncle Bud hadn’t told her about it last night.

Watching Tyler, who was out in right field, his baseball mitt atop his cap as he alternated gazing up at the sky and kicking tufts of grass, she grinned. She poked Janna. “I’m thinking Ty gets his attention span from the Purcell side of the family.”

Janna laughed.

Denser shade than that provided by the leafy trees suddenly blocked her light, and expecting to see rain clouds had blown in, she tipped her head back.

Only it wasn’t clouds. Instead, she found herself looking up at Gabe. His dark brows pleated over
the strong thrust of his nose, he stared back down at her.

Her heart beat double time. Because as their gazes locked, an electric current seemed to pulse between them.

Then Grace leaned forward and Macy saw her smile up at him. “There you are,” the teacher said.

And gave the blanket next to her hip a sit-next-tome pat.

L
OUNGING BACK ON
his elbows next to Grace, Gabe watched Macy’s animated gestures as she laughed and talked with Janna, Shannon and his date. Jesus. Was there no escaping this woman? It just went to show it didn’t pay to get too complacent. Because Macy O’James was
not
a restful female to be around, and more than once since that night in the hall he’d mentally congratulated himself on the wide berth he’d managed to give her. Yes, they had to share the dinner table. But he’d avoided being in any other common room she might occupy.

Which wasn’t to say he hadn’t heard her laughing and flirting up a storm with the AAE boys. The chick was a freaking magnetar—a powerful force drawing anything that even
approached
her orbit. Hell, she’d even gotten the honeymoon kids to occasionally come up for air and interact with her.

It wasn’t as if he’d assumed she wouldn’t be here today. She was actually pretty attentive to her cousin’s needs—he’d give her that—so he’d figured she might bring Janna to Tyler’s game. But he sure as hell hadn’t expected to find
Grace
sharing a blanket with her.

As if she could read his thoughts, the brunette
schoolteacher turned to him and smiled. “Isn’t this fun?”

“Yeah. Great. I sort of expected to spend the time with just you, but either way, it’s good to have some time together.”

“This is like an unexpected party, though, don’t you think? Did I tell you what Macy said about her nephew Tyler having me as his teacher this fall?”

“I don’t think the kid is actually her nephew.” Okay, he was being a boor, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He’d been looking forward to having a relaxing hour or two with Grace and here
Macy
was. Butting in. Getting in the way of his absorbing some of the teacher’s serenity. Making his heart rate spike.

“Oh, I know,” Grace agreed in her sweet-natured way. “I guess he’d be her second cousin. Still, that’s what she calls him. And apparently he calls her Aunt. Anyway—” She launched into a tale of what-Macy-said.

The woman under discussion suddenly shrieked Tyler’s name and shot up onto her knees. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” she and Janna, who’d leaned forward in her chair, chanted with almost perfect synchronism.

Gabe’s gaze flew to the field and homed in on Ty, and he sat up with a jerk. Number eleven on the visiting team had hit a long pop-up and was racing for first base, slinging his bat to the side as he ran. Ty, his eyes narrowed in fierce concentration, had his hands overhead, his mitt cupped toward the descending ball,
as he backpedaled…danced several steps to the left…then corrected by taking a short step back toward center. He was positioned under the ball when it came down, hit the tip of his mitt, balanced for one breathless moment—

Then bobbled over the edge and fell into the space between his raised arms and his body.

“Nooooooo,” Janna and Macy groaned.

Tyler slapped his mitt and free hand at his narrow little chest, his stomach, his groin, his thighs, hunching in on himself as he chased the ball rolling down his torso. Then he suddenly straightened.

And held the ball high.

“Oh, my,” Grace whispered as Janna, Macy and Shannon screamed their approval along with several parents on the bleachers. Macy executed an impromptu little upper-body dance, then exchanged high fives with her cousin and Shannon. Knee-walking around the big redhead, she held out her hand in low-five position to Grace. “Gimme fiiive.”

Grace laughed and slapped palms, then Macy leaned around her to offer the same to him.

He saw the instant she thought better of the idea, but he knew that for once this had nothing to do with that playful, sexually aware teasing she excelled at. This was sheer exuberance over Ty’s triumph—and he reached out to slap hands.

Hers was supple and cool, and instead of giving it the quick spank-and-snatch he’d intended, he executed the former but found his fingers developing
a life of their own as they slid slowly away, brushing from her palm to her fingertips. The contrast between the hard-edged Goth look she sported today and the softness of her skin made his brows furrow, and when her eyes widened and she curled her fingers in as if to hang on to the same sensation sparking in him, he dropped back onto his elbows. He couldn’t figure her out at all.

It was almost a relief when some guy showed up a short while later and Macy started flirting with him, sliding effortlessly back into a niche Gabe understood.

At least it was for a while. Then the verbal slap and tickle between the two started getting on his nerves. Sitting up again, he leaned around Grace to look at the guy squatting in front of Macy. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said. “I’m Gabe Donovan.”

The guy barely spared him a glance. “Adam Westler. My son, Zach, plays on the team.”

“No kidding? Huh. I stop by pretty often to catch at least part of the games. I don’t remember ever seeing you here before.”

The man shrugged. “Guy’s gotta work.”

But apparently not once word got out that Macy O’James is in town.

Before he could make an issue of it, however—or even figure out why he would want to—Lenore and Bud arrived, carrying folding camp chairs. “Sorry we’re late,” the older lady said cheerfully. “Bud in
sisted on weeding the vegetable garden, then didn’t want to leave the job half-done.”

“In this heat?” Macy demanded, jumping to her feet and taking the chair from her aunt. She unfolded it and set it on the other side of Gabe while Bud set up his own next to it. For a moment, Gabe was as mesmerized as a pubescent boy by the straight shot up her yard-long legs to a glimpse of schoolgirl-white panties that his position on the ground afforded him.

Then, he gave himself a mental head slap and looked away. What was he, twelve?

“Auntie,” he heard Macy say with a low-voiced intensity that snapped his gaze to her face. “Didn’t you receive the check I sent last month? You were supposed to hire some help with it.”

“Oh, we put that away for a rainy day. Along with all the others you’ve sent.” Reaching out, she patted Macy’s hand. “Don’t fret, sweetheart. Your uncle’s been gardening since he was old enough to pick up a hoe. Pulling a few weeds in the heat’s not gonna do him in.”

“Me big strong man,” Bud agreed with a grin.

“I know you are,” Macy circled her aunt and stooped to plant a kiss on his bald, sun-spotted head. “The biggest, strongest man it’s my privilege to know. I just don’t want you overdoing.”

“Not gonna happen, baby girl. So, how’s the game gone so far?”

“Oh!” Her face alight with enthusiasm, she turned
to her cousin. “Janna! Tell your folks about Ty’s fly ball.”

The Sentinels ended up losing by two points, but Tyler and Charlie were so pumped over Ty’s save that the loss didn’t seem to faze them. With great drama and exaggerated staggering, they performed a reenactment of the play.

Laughing at their antics, Lenore said, “Well, this is just too much fun to break up. I think everyone should come back to the boardinghouse and have dinner with us. Call your husband, Shannon, and tell him to grab Amy and come on over.” She turned to Westler and looked pointedly at the pale band of white Gabe hadn’t even noticed encircling the other man’s ring finger. “And your wife is welcome, too, of course.”

Westler gave her a wry smile. “I’m divorced, ma’am. That’s my ex over there with my son, Zach.” He indicated a plump, sandy-haired woman stepping off the bottom riser of the bleachers and reaching out to haul a dejected-looking kid into her arms for a hug.

“Then I guess you’ll have to come on your own. Or maybe Zach would like to join us.”

“He’s pretty mad at me over the divorce right now, so I doubt it. But let me go ask.”

Watching the interaction between father and son at the far end of the bleachers, Gabe didn’t need to hear their exchange to know Westler would be join
ing them stag. The sullen expression on the kid’s face said it all.

He blew out a quiet, irritated breath. Great. That’s what they needed around the dinner table tonight, another contender for the always-happenin’ Flirt-a-rama.

But Grace was clearly pleased by the prospect of the get-together continuing. So, sucking it up, he rose and extended a hand to pull her to her feet.

“D
IDN’T YOU DATE
my niece one time in high school?” Bud suddenly asked Adam over Lenore’s taco salad and homemade rolls.

Damn,
Macy thought at the same time Adam agreed, “I did.”

Fork suspended halfway to his mouth, her uncle gave the younger man a level stare and demanded in a low voice, “You one of those fools who took her out because you believed Mayfield’s lies?” Damn, damn,
damn.
Her heart sank as Gabe’s head snapped around from his tête-à-tête with Grace on the other side of Bud.

Color bloomed in Adam’s cheeks. “Uh—”

“How’s he supposed to answer that, Uncle Bud?” she demanded in a voice as quiet as her uncle’s had been. Turning to the Experimental boys, she said in a more conversational tone, “I’m not sure if Adam mentioned this, but he works at AAE.” She gave the American Agricultural Experiment, which most folks in Sugarville simply called the Experimental,
its proper acronym. “Have any of you had a chance to work with him yet?”

Jim Holstrom said that he had, which started the conversational ball rolling when the remaining Experimental grant holders told Adam where they were currently studying within the project. Ignoring the intent gaze that Gabriel was drilling into her temporal lobe, Macy rearranged her salad on her plate. She
hated
that her aunt and uncle knew about that time in her life. She’d done her best to keep them from learning of it, but somehow they’d found out anyway. They’d never said exactly how.

The whole screwed-up mess had started because she’d forgotten the first rule of self-preservation. Growing up, she’d been dragged from pillar to post by her mother, the queen of Moving On. Macy had been the perpetual new kid in school—all twenty-three of them—and was savvy about not setting herself up for disappointment. She simply avoided getting attached to anyone, because she knew that sooner rather than later, Mom would get that restless look in her eye again and Macy would be shaken awake in the dead of night or greeted at the door when she came in from school by her mother’s gratingly cheerful, “Pack your bags, kiddo. We’re off on a big adventure.” It wasn’t until she’d hit high school age and Auntie Lenore talked her mom into letting her stay with them that she’d spent an entire year at one school.

And man, she’d adored it. She’d loved the conti
nuity, the regular-kid home life with her relatives, the having a dresser of her own and half a closet in the room she and Janna shared so her clothes had a permanent spot. She’d really loved putting her suitcase in the attic instead of having to keep it handy because after a couple of months—or sometimes even weeks—it would be time to hit the road again.

It hadn’t been utopian, of course. Small schools had the most rigid cliques in the world and were notoriously slow at welcoming outsiders. Still, she’d figured that for once in her life she had time to carve out a spot for herself. And she’d deemed life good.

Then she’d gone and developed a huge crush on Drew Mayfield and everything had turned to shit.

“You gonna just push that around your plate, or are you actually going to eat the damn thing?”

Macy jerked her head up and found Gabe shooting her an irritated look from across the table. “
Excuse
me?”

“I asked if you’re going to eat your aunt’s salad.” His gray-eyed gaze traveled her long, lean body before raising to meet her own. “Or are you one of those Hollywood anorexics?”

“Jesus, Donovan,” Adam said at the same time that Grace emitted a shocked, “Gabe!”

“Well, look at her plate. She hasn’t eaten more than three bites.”

“What are you, the dinner police?” She looked him in the eye, the easy charm she’d worked to make her default mode on temporary hiatus. “Considering
you’ve been at a lot of the meals I’ve scarfed down this week, for all you know I could simply have something on my mind.”

He merely raised a thick, beautifully curved eyebrow at her.

Causing her to expel an impatient breath. “Fine. Here.” Holding his gaze, she shoveled a huge bite into her mouth and chewed. Not as adequately as she should have before she swallowed, maybe, but what the hell. “Happy?” But her taste buds tingled with delight at the textures and flavors and the hint of heat in her aunt’s secret Thousand Island dressing recipe.

“Ooh. That’s good.” She forked up a more reasonably sized bite, but turned to Adam before carrying it to her lips. “Could you pass the rolls?” Then she popped it in her mouth and ate two additional bites before the basket made its way down the table.

Licking a dab of the dressing off the corner of her lips, she shot Gabe a grin as she broke open her roll. Then she turned to Adam to do what she did best when she wanted to keep someone at arm’s length without appearing unfriendly: flirted. Because Gabriel was right about one thing. Pushing her food around her plate while she brooded was a prodigious waste of time.

She wished Aunt Lenore hadn’t invited Adam for dinner, but at least the guy had been one of her few nice dates in high school. Unlike so many other boys in her class, he’d never asked her out expecting her
to drop her drawers in the backseat of his car in exchange for a second-run movie at the Majestic and a burger basket at Smokey’s—then regaled his buddies with what a hot number she was after she declined to put out.

The legend of her so-called sexual prowess began with Andrew “Drew” Mayfield, the object of her fervent first crush. He’d been golden to her then-impressionable eyes, everything her young heart considered desirable. Reasonably tall, which meant a guy she wouldn’t be afraid to wear heels with, and fit, he was an athlete revered for his prowess on the football field, confident in the way only a young man with money, looks and outstanding physical ability can be. But she didn’t understand that until later. At the time she took the fact that he rarely laughed for intelligence, and it was the confidence that truly sucked her in, for it had made him stand apart from the usual high school boys.