Loving You (14 page)

“You could have if you'd just told him you weren't his father.”

“I couldn't do that, either.”

“What exactly
can
you do, Mr. Candellano?”

“Nick.”

“What?” She blinked up at him.

“Call me Nick.”

“Why should I?”

He shrugged. “Why not? We're locked into this situation together. We've called a truce. Might as well be friends.”

Friends?
No way. Just standing this close to him, she felt as though she needed a chastity belt. Nick Candellano was a walking orgasm. Everything about him sent warning bells clanging in her head. Anytime she got within three feet of him, she could feel the electricity arcing between them, practically burning the air. Shaking his hand had nearly set her body on fire. No. There wasn't a chance in hell the two of them could
ever
be friends. And she wouldn't allow anything else.

Tasha shook her head. “We're not going to be friends,
Nick
.” She sucked in a gulp of air and said a silent
thank you
heavenward when she didn't get another taste of his aftershave. “To you, Jonas is a problem to be solved. To me, he's a little boy to be
protected. That puts us on opposite sides. Even with a truce.”

“I don't want to hurt him,” he argued, and the flash of heat in his eyes convinced her as his words couldn't.

Tasha nodded slowly. “Okay, maybe you don't. But you will.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You want confidence?” she asked quietly. “Then do the right thing.”

“Happy to,” he said. “Just what would that be?”

Go away! she screamed silently. But that wouldn't solve anything and she knew it. Until Jonas was convinced that this man wasn't his father, she'd never be rid of Nick Candellano.

“I don't know,” she finally said. “I just don't know.”

*   *   *

Three days later, Nick was still twisting at the end of a long rope, hoping it didn't form a noose.

He walked across the small park, toward the playing field. Along both sidelines, groups of people were standing or sprawled in sand chairs, shouting encouragement and yelling at the ref. Coolers and thermoses dotted the grass, and the shouts, like a magnet, drew Nick closer.

He'd already spotted Tasha. Sitting all by herself at the far end of the field, she was perched on the edge of a folding chair, hands braced on her knees, gaze fixed on the game. Her fiery hair was pulled into a ponytail that whipped around in the ever-present wind and looked like flames dancing in a hearth.

He tore his gaze away from her to glance at the playing field where two squads of little boys pretended to be men. Standing in the grip of a cold, fierce wind
that rushed across the open spaces to push past him like a stranger, Nick took a quick trip down memory lane. Listening to the sounds of the crowd took him back to his own childhood. To a time when everything was simple. Easy. When running down a field and scoring a touchdown meant an ice-cream sundae after the game. When he could look to the sidelines and see his family, cheering him on.

When the future was far away and still looked bright.

Dismissing the past, he headed toward Tasha.

She glanced up as he came near and he saw surprise register in her eyes. “I didn't expect to see you,” she said.

“Didn't expect to come,” he admitted, and dropped to the grass beside her chair. Drawing his knees up, he draped his forearms across them, then shifted a sideways glance at her. Christ, she was gorgeous. The wind made her cheeks pink and the handful of freckles across her nose stand out in gold relief. Her eyes were as deep and dark a green as the bulky sweater she wore over her jeans and sparkled like polished emeralds. She looked fresh and young and impossibly beautiful.

Something inside Nick tightened into knots, squeezed hard, then eased off, yet the sudden tension within remained. For the first time since he'd met her, she wasn't looking at him like he was a disease waiting to be cured. And Jesus, when her eyes were smiling, she was lethal.

Man, he hadn't counted on her.

She turned her gaze on him and Nick felt the solid punch of those eyes. “So why are you here?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I was invited.” And he was hoping she'd leave it at that, since he couldn't give her any
other reason. Hell, he wasn't sure himself why he was there. He'd spent the last three days trying to get lost in work, to attempt to put Jonas Baker—and Tasha Flynn—out of his mind. But that had been less than successful. As the low man on the totem pole, he had fewer things to do at work than a water boy at a swim meet.

Frustration was riding him hard. He wasn't used to doing nothing, even if he
was
getting paid a ridiculous amount for it. He wanted to do … hell,
something
. Working for television wasn't turning out to be the dream job he'd expected.

Since he was fifteen years old, he'd been working out or practicing or playing football. Now he could hardly hit the treadmill without his knee screaming and reminding him exactly how much he'd lost. He was no longer part of a team. He had no goal to shoot for, no driving desire to push himself to be the best. He was too often alone, and quickly discovering that Nick Candellano wasn't someone he wanted to spend that much time with.

Plus, there was no peace to be found in his house. Not with the Marconis crawling all over the place pounding hammers and clanging on pipes.

So, he was here. And just what did it say about his life, he wondered silently, when an afternoon at a Pop Warner game—with a kid who was suing him—was the best thing he had going?

“Where is he?” Nick asked, shoving his thoughts to the back of his brain. God knew there'd be plenty of time later to think. His gaze locked on the small herd of tiny tacklers, one squad in filthy white, the other in faded red.

“Number twenty-two. In white,” Tasha answered, her gaze, too, fixed on the game.

Nick watched Jonas. God, he looked small out there. Skinny white legs poking out of the knee-length football pants. His cleats were muddy and his white socks drooped down around his ankles. The kid's uniform was covered in grass stains, giving witness to how many times he'd been knocked on his ass. But when the ball was snapped, Jonas took off like a shot. Zigging and zagging his way through the other team, he raced downfield, outran his blockers, then leaped up to snag a pass aimed right at him.

Nick's heart jumped to his throat and his hands closed around his knees as if he could somehow help the kid hold on to the ball. When Jonas turned and hit the ground running for the goal line, fifty yards away, Nick's heart pounded.

The screams and shouts of the crowd faded into the distance as he focused solely on the one small boy headed for glory. Memories skirted through Nick's mind again in a wild rush of color and sensation. He knew just how Jonas felt when the triumphant boy spiked the ball on the ground, then turned to jump up and down with his friends.

And for a split second, Nick envied Jonas that feeling that was now lost to him forever.

Beside Nick, Tasha was on her feet, two fingers in her mouth and whistling like she was hailing a cab in New York City. Then she glanced down at Nick, eyes bright, a proud grin on her face that lit up all the dark places inside him.

“Did you see that?” she demanded.

“Yeah,” he said, standing up to get a better look at that gorgeous smile. “He's pretty good.”

“Good?” Tasha repeated, then shook her head. “He's terrific.”

Nick nodded and shifted his gaze to the field, where the refs were calling the game over. Jonas's victorious team started the screaming again and bolted for the sidelines and their own private cheerleaders.

Jonas, too, yanked his helmet off and came running straight to Tasha. Nick knew the instant the boy spotted him. Jonas's dirty, sweat-streaked features brightened as if a hundred candles were burning inside him, and he ran forward as if looking for another touchdown.

“You came!” he shouted as he slid to a stop right in front of them.

“Had to see you play,” Nick said.

“Did ya see my touchdown?”

Tasha stepped forward and smoothed the boy's sweaty hair back from his forehead.

“I saw it.” Nick grinned. “That was a great run.”

“See? I'm just like you.”

Just like you
. The words echoed in Nick's mind and repeated over and over again like a chant. For the kid's sake, Nick hoped not. Nick had spent most of his life devoting so much time to football … that now that he was required to find a
real
life, he wasn't sure what to look for. He wouldn't wish that on anybody.

“Are you comin' for pizza?”

“What?”

Tasha looked from Jonas to Nick and paused before saying, “After a game, the kids and the parents go for pizza.”

“You wanna come?” Jonas asked, and hope blossomed on his face.

Nick's gaze shifted from the boy to Tasha. He could see she was hoping he'd say, “No thanks.” And he probably should have. But instead, he heard himself say, “Why not?”

C
HAPTER
9

The noise level at the Pizza Palace was enough to make grown men weep.

But Nick, Tasha thought as she watched him from across the room, seemed to be enjoying himself. Surrounded by Jonas and his friends—and a few of the boys' fathers—he was practically holding court. He'd been the star of the show since he'd arrived and Tasha couldn't even resent him for it. How could she, when all it took was one look at Jonas to convince her the boy had never been happier?

Jonas was soaking it all in, like a flower left out in the sun too long and then blessed with rain. He darn near glowed in the reflected admiration bouncing off Nick.

Watching Jonas with the man he thought of as a father was enough to break Tasha's heart. The little boy was so excited and so …
proud
. For the first time ever, Jonas had been one of the guys after the game. He, too, had had a ‘father' there for him. And though Tasha was pleased for him, she was worried, too. This was all going to end, badly, one way or another. Either Nick would prove to be his father and take Jonas from Tasha
… or Nick
wasn't
his father and Jonas would lose him. Or worse yet, Social Services would catch on to the truth about Mimi and throw the boy back into the system, and he would lose Tasha
and
Nick.

How would Jonas stand it? How would he hold up after having his heart broken? And how could Tasha possibly stand by and watch it happen?

There was so much hanging in the balance, she thought, her stomach twisting into knots of anxiety and good old-fashioned fear. Too much for her to relax her guard.

“He's much more handsome in person, isn't he?”

“Hmm?” Tasha tore her gaze away from Jonas to look at Betty Wilkes, one of the team mothers. Betty always looked harried, from her mismatched socks to the gray roots of her blond hair. “Who?”

“Pssh!” The woman playfully slapped at Tasha's shoulder. “Nick, that's who.”

“Oh.” Of course. Who else would they be talking about? The kids' moms were just as fascinated by Nick as their husbands.

“I mean, I used to watch him play,” Betty said, “not like I had any choice, my husband never misses a Saints game, but…” She took a deep breath and let it slide out in a slow rush of approval. “In person, he's so…” She waved her hands, shook her head, and tried to find a word to describe him. When she couldn't, she gave it up and just sighed.

“That about covers it,” Tasha agreed, letting her gaze slide back to the tall, broad-shouldered man with the wide smile. Even from a distance, she felt the heat of his gaze when he turned his head to look right at her. She sucked in a gulp of air.

“Well…” Betty said, leaning in close, “have something
you'd like to share with the class?”

Well, at least she knew she wasn't crazy. There really was something going on here between her and Nick. Now why didn't that knowledge make her feel any better?

“
No
,” Tasha said tightly. She didn't have anything she wanted to talk to Betty about. However, she could see herself spilling her guts to Molly in the morning. Chewing at her bottom lip, Tasha slid off the bench seat, leaving Betty hanging in the gossip wind, so to speak.

But she'd recover. At the moment, all Tasha wanted was a little space. Not easy to find in the madness that was the Pizza Palace. Between the screaming kids, the beeps and shrieks of the video games, and the pipedin music bouncing off the neon orange walls, the place was every kid's dream—and every adult's nightmare.

Almost
every adult, she amended silently as she watched Nick playing to the crowd. Kids and their parents and even a few of the teenage waiters circled Nick like planets orbiting the sun. As she watched, he turned slowly in place, giving each of them a little brief eye contact, and she wondered if he actually practiced the move. Without even trying, he had every one of those people thinking
they
were the center of Nick's attention.

He was smooth. And good-looking enough to be declared bad for a woman's health. And charming. And … Nick dropped one hand onto Jonas's shoulder and the boy leaned into him. Tasha sighed and her heart ached. Even in a crowd, the man had remembered
why
he was there. By drawing Jonas into his circle, he'd made the boy a part of it all. And Jonas was clearly loving it.

How could she fight to protect Jonas from something he wanted so badly?

She shifted her gaze to Nick and caught him watching her. One corner of his mouth lifted into a small private smile that reached across the room and curled up into a warm knot at the pit of her stomach. She found herself smiling back until she realized he'd done it again. He'd made
her
feel like the center of his attention, too.