Fielder's Choice (11 page)

Gustavo blew the whistle.

“Five minutes to hide your flags. They have to be visible from one angle at twenty feet and can’t be above”—he glanced around at the players—”the flags can’t be higher than Sophie can reach.”

Sophie mugged and stretched her arms in the air to demonstrate.

“And keep the tags light,” Peg added. “Like the touch of a butterfly wing.” She winked at Sophie and the two little girls standing beside her. “And hand-offs
are
allowed. Now shake the hands of your opponents across the boundary line and let the games begin!”

A motley mix of parents, kids and ranch hands lined up along the orange rope. From the gleam in their eyes and the chattering, you’d think they were about to save Rome from the Huns. Alana started down the line, giving high fives and handshakes. When she came to Matt at the end of his team’s line, he took her hand in his and she froze. The same feeling she’d had in the dream poured through her, as if his merest touch entered her and changed the arrangement of every cell in her body.

The man made her body hum.

“I’ve been warned about you, Tavonesi,” he said as he released her hand.

“I’m sure it’s all true.” She tried to sound light and offhand, but the tumble in her stomach made her retort come out breathy and jumpy.

“Alex said you put on a good fake. And Scotty told me you nearly nailed his wife in a volleyball game.”

She laughed. So much in her life had changed since that day at the Sabers’ friends and family picnic—had it been less than a year ago? She was pretty sure it was at that picnic that Scotty and Chloe had fallen hopelessly in love. She liked to think she’d had a hand in it. They were a great couple.

“Legends tend to grow when retold,” Alana parried. “But we Tavonesis are always a force to be reckoned with.” She tossed her head with the challenge.

Sophie ran up to Alana. “
I’m
a flag guard.
You’re
on offense.” She pointed to Mark, the ranch’s chef. “
He
decided.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Alana called over to Mark. “No dessert for you for a week.”

Mark shot her a look of mock horror and then beamed a jaunty smile. “Not if our side wins,” he said as he crouched in position at the boundary line.

Warmth spread in her chest as she took her place with the laughing, chattering parents and workers and the kids clustered along the rope. Fun. These people liked to have plain, simple fun. She envied them, envied their sense of community, their sense of belonging to an enterprise they believed in.

Gustavo blew the whistle and chaos erupted. At least it looked like chaos to Alana. Within a few minutes, four of her teammates were in jail, including Sophie, who’d forgotten her role as flag guard and had run across the enemy border.

Alana dashed over to the jail and tagged one of the younger boys to free him.

“I wanted to play Zombies and Humans,” he said as they jogged back to safety in their own territory.

“Maybe next time,” Alana said, not liking her placating tone and liking even less that she had no idea what he was talking about. Her response cheered the boy, and he went dashing back across the line and freed Sophie. He lectured her as he escorted her back to the area where she’d been assigned to guard their flag.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alana saw Matt dash into her team’s territory and with the grace and stealth of a cheetah, conceal himself behind a row of olive trees.

She cut to the right and then doubled back behind the line of trees.

She snuck up behind him and touched her hands to his hips. “Caught!”

He spun so quickly that she was pushed off balance. Her foot slipped out from under her and what she’d intended as a light touch morphed into a full-on tackle. She grabbed at his waist to keep from planting her face in the mulch circling the tree.

With a fluid move, he caught her under the arms and righted her.

She started to pull away, but he circled his fingers around her wrists and pulled her to him.

He lowered his head until his lips nearly touched her cheek. “The rules guy didn’t mention the adult penalty for catching opposing players.”

She knew he was going to kiss her. Whether she would’ve protested, she’d never know. He tightened his hold on her hands and crushed his lips to hers. Maybe it was her dream, maybe it was some power he held, but she met his kiss with wanton hunger. He tasted like sun-warmed honey, and the tease of his tongue made her boldly open for more. He released her hands, and she ran them up the muscles of his back. He traced his fingers lightly along her sides and over the curve of her hips. She thought he would cup her bottom, craved that he would, but his hands stopped short. He gently clasped her waist and moved her back a step toward the olive tree.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

The look of apology in his eyes was genuine. It made her want to kiss him again.

“All’s fair in love and war,” she said as he removed his hands from her waist and dropped them to his sides. Already she wanted more of his touch, more of the luscious, drug-like feeling he aroused, even though neither time nor place was appropriate. As for the appropriateness of the man...

“I believe this is a war game,” she said with a toss of her head. Her feelings were warring in her, that was for sure. And if the pulse hammering in his neck was any indication, his were too.

The shrill sound of a whistle shocked her back to reality.

“Game’s over,” Matt said.

She couldn’t read the look in his eyes. She was used to being able to read people. That she couldn’t read him lit a fire of challenge in her, as if air or light were reaching some place inside her that waited coiled, hungry and ready to spring to life.

“Perhaps we should go find out who won,” she said, pulling her T-shirt back into place.

He laughed then, a deep laugh from the gut.

“Laughing becomes you,” she said as they jogged back to the boundary line.

“Probably becomes most people.” He ran a hand through his hair and shook an olive leaf out of it.

He probably hadn’t meant to, but the gesture displayed the bulge of his biceps and the incredibly well-defined muscles of his forearm. He couldn’t know how his simple gesture lit her core, just as if someone had struck a match.

“By the way,” he said, “nice tackle back there. You might have a career ahead of you.”

Their pulse-hammering kiss was more on her mind than her tackle, but his compliment sent a thrill through her. “I do have brothers,” she said. “Some skill is required to reach adulthood, even in my family. Tackles might be my forte.”

He laughed again, and she heard the release in it; a path of hot desire teased through her like a drug.

Sophie ran up to Matt and gave him a puzzled smile.

“Dad, you look happy.” She lifted her eyes to Alana’s. “He’s always happy when his team wins.”

But Alana knew it was more than the win. She knew the feeling of letting loose. Matt could probably use a lot more of it. She, on the other hand, could probably use a little less letting loose. Maybe a whole lot less.

In that moment, Alana envied him. His life made sense; he had ground under him. He seemed to know what he wanted, had a kid who adored him and a profession he loved.

Alana knelt down to straighten Sophie’s pigtails.

“You can’t watch the trophy ceremonies with pigtails that are askew,” Alana teased.

“Dad helped me with them.”

“I’m not much for doing hair,” Matt confessed.

“But you should see him
hit
.” Sophie tipped her face to Alana’s. “He can
really
hit. We have awards for it. Lots of them. A whole shelf. I’ll show you sometime if you come over. I get to keep two of them in my room. Do you have any awards?”

“Only one.”

“What for?”

A ripple of self-consciousness tightened the muscles in Alana’s throat. “It’s just for painting. For one painting.” That she’d been awarded it by the Sorbonne, she didn’t say.

“Can I see it? The painting, I mean.”

“It’s in Paris.” Alana felt Matt’s eyes on her as she talked with his daughter. He didn’t seem like one of those parents that hovered, but he did seem extremely cautious.

“Maybe I’ll bring it here someday. If I do, I promise to show it to you.”

That was crossing a line. Promising kids anything was out of bounds and Alana knew it.

She purposely didn’t look at Matt, not wanting to see the closed expression return to his face.

Chapter 9

Matt considered inviting Alana to a game. Surely Alex and Scotty had never seen her as he was seeing her now, or they wouldn’t have warned him off. He loved the sound of her laugh; it lifted him like sun breaking though a foggy day. And he could use a little more levity in his life.

But then Sophie slipped her hand into Alana’s, and Alana stiffened. Reality swooped in with its hard, clean edge as her body told him what his mind didn’t want to see. Though she might fall under the spell of Sophie’s gentle charm, Alana wasn’t a player in the world of mothers and families and children. He’d have to make sure he didn’t drag Sophie into any false expectations.

He could handle that. He could protect Sophie.

But he wasn’t so sure he could handle Alana. He was pretty sure her carefully crafted persona concealed worlds he’d never known and, more disturbing, passion he’d never tasted.

But she made him crave that passion.

The camp director called the kids into a huddle under one of the large shade tents.

“Kids, Sophie. That means you,” Matt said.

Sophie ran off to join the camp participants up near the frantoio.

“You’ll have to forgive her,” he said. “She’s become a little”—he searched for the right word—“
glommy
since her mom died.”

“I’m so sorry about her mom.” Alana looked over to where the kids were gathered. “She’s a great kid. As kids go.”

There it was. Her last statement was a wall going up. It’d keep
him
from skidding into any false expectations, that was for sure. But it couldn’t hurt to spend time with her. Something in her called out to the part of him that missed having fun. And if her reaction to his kiss was any indication, she was as interested in fooling around as he was.

Having an affair with her would be safe—they were so unsuitable that nothing would develop; they couldn’t possibly fit. He imagined she’d see him as a fling, and he could enjoy her and release the pent-up sexual energy screaming to derail him. Maybe they could be friends with benefits, as they used to say.

“Come to a game,” he said as they walked toward the refreshment tent. “I mean, I’d like it if you’d come. If you want to, that is.” He sounded like an eighth-grader asking for a prom date. Sweat beaded in all the wrong places.

“Only if you’ll sit with me.”

He started to explain, but the laughter in her eyes told him she was kidding.

“Maybe we could go out for a bite after and...” He hadn’t thought it through. “With me and your cousin, Alex, and Scotty and their wives.” He’d have to do some pretty fast planning to make such an arrangement happen.

“I haven’t seen Alex for ages. And Jackie’s nearly impossible to pin down. You manage that and you get big points in my book.”

Big points sounded good. Maybe too good.

“Parents over here!” Peg shouted into the postgame chaos.

“That’s you,” Alana said.

“How’s next Wednesday? It’d be a night game.”

“I like night; it might be my favorite time.”

Did he imagine the glint lighting her eyes, or was she flirting with him? He hoped for the latter.

“Your ticket will be at
will call
. Here’s my cell number if there’s any problem.”

He’d make sure there wasn’t, but he wanted her to have his number. Although, as he turned and headed for the gaggle of camp parents, he thought she might have his number in more ways than one.

After Peg went over the rules for the campers’ sleepover, Matt said goodbye to Sophie and gave her the new flashlight he’d bought.

When he reached his car, his body still hummed with the prospect of a night with Alana. He’d have to ask some pretty big favors if he was to set up the evening he was imagining.

That night as he lay awake, he more than imagined it. He previewed it in 3-D, full-on color.

Chapter 10

Alana dashed through the stadium and flashed her ticket to the usher in the field section. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to come to a baseball game. But Matt had shown up in her dreams again, in vivid, luscious, erotic ways, and she just had to watch him play, see him move. The prospect was titillating.

She spied Jackie in a seat a couple of rows up behind first base and scooted into the open seat next to her.

“Sorry I’m late. There was an accident on the bridge.”

Jackie smiled. “Hey, there are four innings left.”

Alana tucked her bag under her seat. She’d brought a heavy fleece and a cap, knowing better than to trust San Francisco weather in June. No one ever knew when the fog and wind would roll in, sending temperatures down to a bone-chilling fifty degrees.

“I haven’t seen Scotty pitch since last year.”

“I was surprised when you called,” Jackie said. “Hadn’t thought baseball had captured your fancy.”

“I couldn’t resist seeing all of you. And it’s been forever since I’ve seen Alex or Chloe.”

Jackie raised a brow. “Your guy Matt’s on first base. They walked him. Alex made it to third.”

“He’s not
my
guy.” She turned her eyes to the field.

Matt crouched and put his hands to his thighs, then took a few steps off the base. The Rockies’ pitcher threw to first, but Matt made it back with time to spare. Before Alana could blink, he’d taken another lead. The pitcher pulled his glove to his chest and threw. In the time it took for the ball to reach the catcher, Matt stole second. He seemed to prowl the bases more than just run them. His movements were sleek, almost primal, radiating a visceral energy that resonated in her as if she’d been a tightly strung instrument and his every move strummed her. He seemed to have a different but equally mesmerizing effect on the opposing team.