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“Uh—no, they don’t. But we’ll get them in time for the next practice. Is there anything else they need?”
Danny was giving Will his full attention—sucking up, Elizabeth knew was the term for it—but Mikey had pulled an action figure from his shorts pocket and was busily turning it into a truck or something. Neither boy was paying the least bit of attention to what was going on beyond that white chalk line.
“We’ve got a list here somewhere,” Will told her, heading over to a large three-ring binder on the bench. “Did Chessie tell you to bring their birth certificates along and proof of health insurance?”
Elizabeth pulled the relevant papers from her purse. “Yes, I’ve got all of that right here. Oh, and a check for seventy dollars. Is that right?”
Will took everything from her, looking up at her as he scanned the check but then quickly sliding it into a pocket of the binder without comment. Richard had written the check, and his name was printed on it. She’d argued with him that it wasn’t necessary, but he’d insisted. Not that she was going to tell Chessie’s cousin that … or that she suspected Richard would have just as happily written a check for two months of sleepaway camp for both boys. He liked the twins. He just didn’t have the knack for interacting with them, that’s all. He’d rather buy them something; it was how Richard showed affection.
She watched as Will assembled a few papers and handed them back to her along with the birth certificates and her insurance card. “We’re a new team, what they call an in-house team, so we only play five other teams. Practices go on just about every morning at nine until our first game, which is also at nine. All the games are played on this field. The schedule and the rules are all on those papers. Six outs a side, no sliding, no stealing, no taking leads and no keeping score so we don’t bruise their little egos.”
He leaned down to be on eye-level with the twins. “And I don’t like this any more than you two do, so let’s just try to get through it together with the least amount of trauma, all right?”
He put out both hands, palms up, and the boys surprised her by grinning as they completed the low fives.
“Okay, Danny? Danny, right? Which one of you two peas in a pod is Danny?”
Danny raised his hand. “Me. I’m the good twin. I got all Excellents in Deported.”
“Deportment,” Elizabeth correctly quietly, rubbing Danny’s blond curls. She really should get the boys haircuts, but she loved their curls. Besides, they had so many years to be grown-up. “And try not to be so modest.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” Elizabeth said, sighing. She’d worried that Mikey would develop a complex about his own C-pluses in deported, but since Mikey seemed very happy in his game-oriented world, she had decided not to overreact. “Should they go out on the field now?”
Will shook his head. “No, not without gloves. Not that I think they’ll catch anything, but at least they could use them to put in front of their faces if someone puts a little too much on the ball. In fact, today was really just signup day, and I think Danny and Mikey were the last two to arrive. We were just about ready to call them all in.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth nodded, thinking, Well, that was quick. And rather a shame, considering how long it had taken her just to get the boys to the field in the first place. “I guess then I’ll take them to buy gloves?”
“Rightie or leftie?” Will asked, and she had a feeling those green eyes were laughing at her.
“I beg your—oh. Rightie. Both boys. So I get them gloves that fit on their right hands, correct?”
“On their left hands. Catch with their left, throw with their right,” Will corrected. “What kind of glove are you planning to buy? Catcher’s mitt? Fielder’s glove? First baseman’s glove? And they might want their own bats, although we have some here, along with a catcher’s mask and pads. Oh, and cleats, of course. They probably should have cleats.”
She looked at him intensely, pretending not to see how absolutely perfectly good-looking he was. “And I’ll bet you think you’re speaking English, too, don’t you?”
Will lifted his hat slightly and scratched at his temple as he looked back at the two other coaches before motioning for Elizabeth to stay where she was because he’d be right back.
He walked over to the coaches, handed one of them the three-ring binder, shook hands with both men and then returned to where she and the twins were waiting. “Okay, that’s settled. Mitch and Greg have volunteered to finish up here. Let’s get these boys some equipment, all right? We can take my car.”
“Oh, but that isn’t necessary,” Elizabeth said, almost forced to run to keep up with Will’s long strides as he headed up the hill toward the parking lot, just as if her yes was assumed. “I’m sure I can ask someone at the sporting goods store to help us.”
Will turned to face her, although he didn’t halt his progress toward the parking lot, walking backward as he addressed the boys. “Who’s up for pizza after we get you guys ready to play?”
“Me!” Mikey shouted, punching one arm in the air as he danced in a circle. “Me, me, me!”
“Can I have pepperoni?” Danny asked, not yet ready to commit.
Will looked at Elizabeth. “If your mom says it’s all right.”
“Mom?”
“This is where I realize I’m beaten and give up and go along, right?” Elizabeth asked, sighing. “Yes, all right. Did Chessie put you up to this?” she asked him quietly as they reached the parking lot. Will was heading toward the black Mercedes, which didn’t surprise her. “Helping me with the boys, I mean.”
“Chessie? No, she didn’t ask me to help you with the boys. Well,” he added, his devastating smile back in evidence, “not exactly in those words. Let’s take my car.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Can’t. Until the boys grow another two inches, they have to ride in safety booster seats. We can follow you, though. I’m parked right here.”
Will looked at the small SUV, which was probably a toy in most men’s eyes, then to his Mercedes, and then back to the SUV. “I don’t want to lose you in traffic. How about I ride with you?”
Elizabeth did a quick mental inventory of the interior of the SUV, pretty sure there weren’t any crumpled fast-food bags or errant French fries on the floor—at least not in the front seat. “Sure,” she said brightly, too brightly. “Chessie assured me you’re trustworthy.”
“No she didn’t. Chessie may shade the truth from time to time, but she doesn’t outright lie,” Will said, leaning closer to Elizabeth so that the boys didn’t hear him. “She told me you’re gorgeous, by the way. And she’s right.”
Elizabeth backed up two steps, sure her eyes had gone wide and stupid. “You’re … you’re flirting with me?”
“Do you mind? Honesty seems to run in our family.”
She felt her head moving from side to side. Did this man, this absolutely drop-dead handsome man, just agree that he was flirting with her? Her, Elizabeth Carstairs, better known as Mom? Her? “Uh … no?”
They exchanged smiles, Elizabeth rather lost in the moment—someplace she hadn’t been in too many years to recall.
Clunk.
“Mom!”
Elizabeth watched as Will’s eyebrows shot up even as his head turned toward his car—his beautiful, black, shiny Mercedes.
“Mikey, what did you do?” she asked, already knowing the answer before she saw the SUV’s rear passenger door, its edge open against the side of the luxury car. “No! Don’t move! Don’t touch that door,” she said as she raced around the front of the SUV.
“It slipped out of my hand, Mom,” Mikey wailed before turning on Danny. “Why didn’t you catch it?”
“Coach said we don’t know how to catch, remember?” Danny shot back, and then quickly scooted into the backseat and his booster on the far side of the car. Mikey followed him, moving on a par with the speed of light.
“Hands up,” Elizabeth ordered automatically, waiting until Mikey had raised his hands above his head so that she knew she wouldn’t pinch his fingers when she shut the door. Okay, slammed the door. Then she turned, reluctantly, to see that Will was running his fingers down the side of his own back side door. “How bad is it?”
“I think we’re good,” he said, wetting his finger and rubbing the tip against the paint. “Yup, we’re good. Which is a good thing, because otherwise I was going to have to kill the kid.”
“You’d have to get in line to do that. I warn them and warn them about letting go of car doors …”
“Hey, Elizabeth, relax,” Will soothed, putting his hands on her bare upper arms. “I was kidding. It’s all right. I’m not upset. Accidents happen.”
Elizabeth tried to swallow. Her skin seemed on fire where Will’s hands were touching her, yet the rest of her body seemed to have gone icy-cold. What was wrong with her? “You … you must have children of your own. To be so understanding, I mean.”
He shook his head. “Nope, not even a dog. And no wife, either, since you asked.”
She stepped away from his unnerving touch. “I didn’t ask.”
“Not in so many words, no. But I know you’re a widow, so it seems only fair that you should know my marital status. Which is and always has been single.” He held up his left hand, fingers spread. “See? No tan line around the fourth finger, left hand. And now that we’ve got that all out of the way, are you ready to go buy some baseball equipment for these two?”
Actually, she was ready to crawl into a hole and then yank it in after her, but since he probably already knew that, she just nodded as she pulled her keys from her shorts pocket. He snagged them deftly and walked her around the car to the passenger side, opening the door for her.
She got inside. She watched him as he closed the door. She put on her seat belt. She faced front. She folded her trembling hands in her lap. Did her best to remember to breathe.
And, for the first time in too many years to remember, she let events just happen.
It was like shooting fish in a barrel, Will thought, although he’d never held a gun, and the only fish he’d ever seen arrived on his dinner plate, sprinkled with fresh parsley.
Elizabeth Carstairs was one beautiful woman. One beautiful, vulnerable woman. She had a bit of frightened doe about her, yet she was certainly take charge when it came to her sons, who seemed to know she had limits and carefully avoided them.
Will was pretty sure he could have Elizabeth in his bed without much effort and without even breaking a sweat. Except he was also pretty sure that was not what Chessie wanted him to do. All right, so he knew it wasn’t what Chessie wanted him to do. In fact, she’d probably hunt him down and strangle him if he took the flirtation business that far.
No, he was here to wake up the slumbering Widow Carstairs, make her feel desirable and female and—didn’t the woman own a mirror? Damn, she was gorgeous. Skin like honey, soft brown eyes that betrayed her every mood. She would be wise to never play poker.
Then there was that fantastic jawline that the style of her streaky blond curls turned into a regal work of art. A tall, slim body, with curves in all the right places. And those long, straight legs. A man could easily fantasize about those legs.
What the hell was the matter with Chessie? She knew he wasn’t a saint. She sure as hell had to know he wasn’t a damn martyr. What did she think she was doing, throwing a woman like Elizabeth Carstairs into his lap?
And one more thing. Why had he wanted to punch Greg in the chops when he’d winked and made a fairly obscene pumping gesture when Will had told him he was taking Elizabeth and her sons to lunch? Greg hadn’t meant anything by it, at least nothing men didn’t think about and say to each other all the time.
It just didn’t seem right to make jokes about a woman like this one.
Will looked over at her as he stopped for a red light on MacArthur Road. She’d been quiet for the last ten minutes as they’d been pretty much stop-and-go in mall traffic. “You all right?”
“Excuse me? Oh. Oh, yes, I’m fine. You’re really being very nice.” She turned to look at him with those soulful brown eyes. “I mean, you aren’t married, you have no children of your own. And yet you’re coaching a baseball team.”
“Chessie didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
The light turned green, and Will pulled out quickly, knowing he had to get over into the right lane in order to pull into the next mall in a line of malls and other stores that took up a good two miles on both sides of MacArthur Road. “She didn’t tell you that I’m a lawyer. Defense lawyer. One with a big mouth sometimes. And, thanks to Judge Harriette ‘The Hammer’ Barker, who has a fairly perverted sense of humor, it was either she slapped me in the local lockup for repeated contempt of court, or I volunteered to take over as head coach for a new baseball team that needed one. Her grandson’s on the team, you understand. And thinking of that leaves me wondering what she’s got against her grandson.”
“So … so you didn’t want to coach the team?”
“Not even in my dreams. But I may be changing my mind.”
“Because you like teaching seven-year-old boys to play the game?”
“No, I don’t think I’d go that far. But I do like big brown eyes.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, maybe something like “Get out of my car, you pig,” unless, if he was lucky, he hadn’t pushed too far, too fast. But, thanks to the twin terrors in the backseat, Will was pretty sure he’d never know.
“You said I could have a turn. Come on, gimme!”
“I’m not done yet. I’ve still got one more life left. Hey! Let go of my arm, doofus, I have to get to the safety zone before—”
Whirrrrrrrrr … splat.
“Mom!”
Still with her gaze on Will, Elizabeth put her arm between the seats, reaching into the backseat. “Give. Now.”
“But Danny did it, Mom. It’s my game.”
“And now it’s mine. Give.”
A small red plastic game and equally small set of headphones were swiftly deposited in the glove box, and the boys in the backseat were silent for several seconds until Will heard a whispered, “See what you did? It’s all your fault.”
“Shoulda shared, Mikey,” Danny whispered back.
Elizabeth made a small sound in her throat, rather the way someone might attempt to gently shush someone who was speaking in a movie theater, and the backseat was silent once more.
“How many children are on this team of yours?” she asked him, just as if the interruption had never happened.
The question seemed to come out of left field. “Sixteen. Thirteen boys, three girls. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. Except you might want to reconsider the local lockup offer. Cracking rocks or making license plates would probably look like a walk in the park after dealing with sixteen young darlings like my two back there. And don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
Will pulled into a parking space near the door of the sporting goods store. “You know, you may have a point. Do you think I might have a case against The Hammer for cruel and unusual punishment?”
“I’m not a lawyer, and so far you’ve only had one day on the job, so that remains to be seen, doesn’t it? Seven-year-olds aren’t really that terrible, if you know how to handle them.”
“Oh, and how do I do that?” Will asked once they were out of the car, and Elizabeth had a firm grip on one hand of each of her twins.
“Be fair, be consistent, choose your battles,” Elizabeth told him as they crossed the driving lane and reached the sidewalk outside the store. She let go of the boys’ hands and they raced for the door, arms waving, each wanting to be the one who caused the sensor to activate the automatic doors. “And two things more. Never underestimate the inventiveness of a seven-year-old … and never let them see you sweat.”
“They can smell fear?” Will asked, one eye on the twins, who had come to an abrupt halt just inside the doors, as if they’d never been inside a sporting goods store before. Which they probably hadn’t. Poor kids.
“I’d rather say they can sense weakness. It’s one thing to try to be their friend, but there’s a line between adult and child, and you cross it at your peril. Unless you want to be treated like you were just another seven-year-old boy.”
“Not if their mom is going to take all my goodies away, no,” Will said, and watched as becoming color ran into Elizabeth’s cheeks. Yup, shooting fish in a barrel. Taking candy from a baby. And she’d think it was all her idea. “Come on,” he added, taking her hand as if it was something he did all the time, “I think the baseball equipment is over there, to the left. Boys? Follow us.”
Two hours, about two hundred fifty dollars and two pizzas later they were back at the ball fields and Will was handing Elizabeth the keys to her SUV as she joined him outside the drivers’ side of the car.
“Sticker shock wear off yet?” he asked her.
“You know they’re going to grow out of those baseball shoes before the season is over, don’t you? At least you said the hats and shirts come as part of the registration fee,” she said, smiling weakly. “But they seem more excited about the idea of playing now, don’t they?”
“I can think of something that might make them even more excited. I’ve got four box seat season tickets for the Pigs, and they’re playing at home tonight.”
“The Pigs? I beg your pardon? Don’t pigs have something to do with football?”
“That’s pigskin, another name for a football. I’m talking about the IronPigs, our local Phillies baseball farm team. We could take the boys.”
Elizabeth shifted those marvelous eyes left and right, as if searching for understanding. “Why would anyone want to be called Pigs?”
“The name wouldn’t have been my first choice, either, but it’s catching on.”
