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Suddenly a Bride / A Bride After All: Suddenly a Bride
Kasey Michaels


Suddenly a Bride Single mother Elizabeth had no illusions about getting married. Tying the knot the second time around wouldn’t be about love and romance. It would be about friendship and making a home for her family. Then she met Will, her sons’ sexy baseball coach…A Bride AfterAll Burned by love, Claire had given up on finding her dream husband. The physician’s assistant would have to be content taking care of other people’s kids. Until she met her happily-ever-after wrapped up in Nick, one seductive single-father package…












About the Author


KASEY MICHAELS is a USA Today bestselling author of more than one hundred books. She has earned three starred reviews from Publishers Weekly, and has won a RITA


award from Romance Writers of America, an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award, Waldenbooks and Bookrak awards and several other commendations for her writing excellence in both contemporary and historical novels. Kasey resides in Pennsylvania with her family, where she is always at work on her next book.

Readers may contact Kasey via her website, Kasey Michaels.com.


Suddenly

A Bride



A Bride

After All

Kasey Michaels








www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Suddenly



A Bride





Kasey Michaels


Dear Reader,

In high school I worked as a bridal consultant in an upscale women’s clothing store. Then my boss went on leave of absence and I became the seventeen-year-old in charge of the entire bridal salon for one crazy summer. And I fell in love with everything to do with brides and happily-ever-afters.

There is nothing like the special glow that comes over a bride when she puts on that perfect gown. But why should that special glow be reserved for first-time brides? That’s why I created Second-Chance Bridal and Chessie Burton, a young woman who has devoted herself to second chances.

Come along as Chessie and her friends meet Elizabeth Carstairs, a prospective second-time-around bride who is far from sure about taking another trip down the aisle. How fortunate that she chose the right bridal salon.

I’m having a blast writing the books that make up this series, and I hope you’ll have a blast reading them. Oh, and I hope you’ll like the gowns I—that is, Chessie—picked out for her brides.

Kasey Michaels


To Gail Chasan,

for allowing me the pleasure of writing this series.




Chapter One


Prospective bank robbers probably cased the joint less thoroughly. Elizabeth Carstairs had driven down Chestnut Street in her five-year-old compact SUV at least six times in the past week—and three times in the past hour.

Down Chestnut, right on Sixth, right on Maple, right on Seventh, right on Chestnut. She had been going in squares rather than circles but getting just as dizzy. And each time, she slowed the car as she passed the old, Victorian three-story, painted a whimsical shade of violet with darker violet and green trim. A beautifully restored painted lady, as Elizabeth had heard such houses called, set back from the street and surrounded by clever shrubbery that drew the eye toward the house and the painted sign on the front lawn.

Second Chance Bridal. And, beneath that intriguing name, in flowing script, this further explanation: Because sometimes two (or three) is the charm.

Elizabeth now stood on the sidewalk in front of the house, having finally parked her car a block away when she’d at last convinced herself she was being an idiot. She stared at the herringbone-design gray brick walkway that led to the covered wraparound porch and the double doors set between matching bay windows displaying gowns on headless mannequins.

A bridal shop. That’s all it was. People went inside bridal salons all the time. Looked around. Didn’t always buy something. Although it was probably a foregone conclusion that the person was there to buy, because the person wouldn’t be looking at bridal gowns unless she was getting married. It wasn’t like bridal salons also sold jeans and underwear or something. If you went inside a bridal salon, it could pretty well be determined that you were there because you were going to get married. And if the salon you entered was named Second Chance Bridal, it was also reasonably certain that you weren’t exactly new to the process. Still, walking into a bridal salon was like being committed to the thing. Or, as Elizabeth was beginning to wonder about herself, like she should be committed.

No. She couldn’t do it. The part of her that wanted to do it was hiding somewhere while the part of her that was scared spitless was standing front and center, feet itching to move back down the block, to the car, to escape.

“Hi there. I’m late, aren’t I?”

Elizabeth turned toward the sound of the voice. A bouncy, bright-eyed woman of about thirty, her head a mop of wonderfully casual, light copper curls that all ended bluntly at chin level, was heading toward her, a wide smile on her face.

“Excuse me?” Elizabeth asked, tempted to look behind her, hoping the woman was talking to someone else.

The redhead was digging in her oversize shoulder bag now, obviously on the hunt for something. “I always think I’ll have enough time for lunch and at least one errand, and I’m always wrong. I should have known there’d be a line at the dry cleaners. Ten dollars for two measly blouses? Two. Remember when everything was wash-and-wear? No muss, no fuss? Whatever happened to those days?”

Elizabeth only nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. She’d found herself ironing everything again when, for years, she’d pretty much used her steam iron as a doorstop. Now everything seemed to come out of the dryer in wrinkled clumps, especially the boys’ shirts.

The woman pulled a set of keys out of her bag, along with a cell phone that she flipped open and then grimaced at, wrinkling her pert nose. “I stopped wearing a watch, thinking I could just see the time on my phone, you know? Very hip, very modern. I probably should have stuck with the watch. Yup, late. Nearly five minutes late.”

Because she was naturally polite, and because she thought it might be time she tried to say something, Elizabeth said, “Oh, but—”

Which was as far as she got before the bouncy redhead held out her hand, leaving Elizabeth no choice but to take it.

“Hi, I’m Chessie Burton. And you must be my two o’clock. What do you say we get out of this hot sun?”

“I, um, I …” Elizabeth couldn’t seem to get past Chessie’s beautiful, open, smiling face and velvet steamroller charm. “Yes, sure. It is hot, isn’t it?”

“For this early in June, yes. I think so,” Chessie said, leading the way up the gray brick path—or The Last Mile, as Elizabeth had been thinking of it. “But that’s the beauty of Pennsylvania, don’t you think? We get all four seasons. I couldn’t imagine living with such heat year-round—or never getting to see the trees turn colors in the fall. Of course, after the first snowfall I always think I’ve seen enough, thank you, and begin hoping for spring. Ah, here we go.”

Chessie had inserted one of the keys from her ring into the big brass lock and pushed open the old-fashioned door. An air-conditioned breeze rushed out at them, and Elizabeth hastened inside, drawn by both the coolness and the sweet smell of fresh cut flowers.

While Chessie flipped the sign in the front window from Closed to Open, Elizabeth looked around the high-ceilinged room made welcoming by the clever arrangement of chairs and tables that spoke more of a fancy parlor than a place of business.

“What a pretty room,” she said, pretending not to notice the glass cases displaying gloves and headpieces and ring-bearer pillows and pretty white leather-covered books with words like Our Wedding stamped on them.

“Thank you.” Chessie walked to the half-circle reception desk and flipped open an appointment book. “Hmm, that’s funny. I don’t have a two o’clock anymore. Eve marked it as canceled.” She looked at Elizabeth. “Good Lord, don’t tell me I just kidnapped you off the street.”

Maybe it was the beautiful building. Maybe it was at last being inside it rather than circling the place like some loon. Or maybe it was the comically horrified look on Chessie’s expressive face. Whatever it was, Elizabeth felt her nervousness melt away as she laughed softly.

“You didn’t kidnap me. I was … well, I thought I might be coming inside anyway. I’m Elizabeth Carstairs, by the way. I probably should have said that earlier, but—”

“But I wouldn’t let you get a word in sideways,” Chessie interrupted, nodding knowingly. “Sorry about that. I could put on a fresh pot of coffee, but I make miserable coffee. Would you like a soda? Diet or regular?”

“Regular, thanks,” Elizabeth told her, any lingering thoughts she might have of finding a way back out to the street now gone. “I don’t have an appointment, you know.”

“That’s all right. Obviously, neither have I.” Chessie opened a bottom door on what looked like an antique highboy chest but somehow housed a small refrigerator below the double top doors and pulled out two cans of soda. Opening the top doors revealed neat rows of glassware and some small dessert dishes. With swift efficiency, ice was put in the glasses, sodas were popped open and poured and pretty vanilla cookies with fruity centers were arranged on one of the dessert plates.

Chessie used the plate to motion to the Queen Anne high-back chairs arranged around a low coffee table in front of a fireplace currently fronted by a large bouquet of live flowers.

“So,” she said once they both were seated and Elizabeth was carefully putting her glass down on what looked to be a hand-crocheted lace coaster, “when’s the wedding?”

And there it was, the big question, or at least one of them. “I don’t know,” Elizabeth answered honestly, and then smiled weakly. “I haven’t really said yes yet.”

Chessie tipped her head to one side. “And you thought maybe trying on some gowns might help you make up your mind?”

Elizabeth was genuinely surprised. “You’re a mind reader?”

“No, although wouldn’t that be fun? Second-timers are a more wary lot, I’ve found, that’s all. First-timers rush in—like all fools, right? But the second time around? We tend to look a whole lot more before we leap.”

“You sound as if you’ve got experience in that area.”

“Not really. Let’s say I’m still licking wounds from an almost first time, not that they aren’t pretty well healed. My very first sale was my own never-used wedding gown.” Chessie slapped her hands against her thighs and stood up. “Come on. Let’s go play.”

“Oh, but I don’t want to waste your time,” Elizabeth protested. She noticed that she was standing up and following the woman even as she was saying the words. “I’m really not here to buy.”

“And I’m not here to sell. Well, that’s not true, is it? I own the joint, so of course I want to sell. But I don’t have any more appointments this afternoon. Only Eve has a three o’clock, and we just got several new gowns in this morning. I’m dying to see them on somebody other than myself. You’re a four?”

“Uh … yes. A four. I don’t think I’m wearing the right bra to be trying on gowns.” Not the right bra, not the right anything, considering she was clad in a simple white tank top and a plaid skort that had probably seen better days. “And sandals. Sandals aren’t quite the look, are they?”

“Mere details.” Chessie opened an ornately paneled ivory wood door, its design picked out in gold, and motioned for Elizabeth to step inside a large dressing room. There was a sort of raised stage in the middle of it and several rather full half slips hung from pegs on one wall. “You’ll find strapless bras in the top three drawers of that chest over there. We probably have your size. Shoes are on the shelving behind the door. I’ll give you a few minutes and be back with the goodies.”

Once the door was closed and Elizabeth was alone, she looked at her reflection in the three-way mirror, still not quite believing what was happening. Chessie Burton was like some friendly tidal wave washing over her, and she didn’t seem to have the will to resist.

Or maybe she really wanted to try on wedding gowns?

“And how are you going to know if you don’t try?” she asked her reflection. Her reflection stuck its tongue out at her.

She found a strapless push-up bra in the second drawer and quickly stripped down to put it on before sliding out of her sandals and into a pair of white backless heels that made her doubly aware that all she was wearing were the bra and her hip-hugging underpants. High heels and underwear. Now, there was a look.

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip on a giggle just as Chessie knocked on the door and then entered the room, carrying several plastic bags she held up high by their hangers. “I only brought three. It’s so easy to feel overwhelmed. And only the ivory and the blush. With your fair skin and hair, I think white would just wash you out, and who needs that?”

“I’ve already worn white. With twin boys at home, I really don’t qualify anymore, anyway.”

“I doubt one first-time bride in fifty does these days. But as Eve says, if you can wait the year or more it seems to take to hire the hall and plan a wedding without ripping each other’s clothes off, well, then you probably shouldn’t be getting married in the first place. In fact, that should have been my first clue.”

“My pregnancy test strip turned positive the morning of my wedding. I don’t know if the white gown made me look pale or if it was the morning sickness,” Elizabeth said, no longer blushing at the memory. “I told Jamie when my father handed me off to him at the altar.”

Chessie had unzipped the first bag and paused in lifting the gown out of it. “My God, what did he do?”

Now Elizabeth did blush. “Let’s just say it was a good thing we had a videographer at the ceremony, because Jamie always said he didn’t remember much of anything after that. Eight months later we had the twins. It was … a busy year.”

“But a happy one, I can tell. Okay, here’s the first one. It’s a mermaid skirt, so you’re going to have to step into it. I don’t think it’s your style. You’re more wholesome than daring, I’d say, but everyone has to try on a mermaid skirt at least once, right?”

Elizabeth eyed the gown warily. “It looks rather … formfitting.”

“And you’ve got the form to fit it, you lucky dog. I can’t believe you carried twins. How old are they?”

“Danny and Mikey? They just turned seven. We only moved here around Thanksgiving of last year, so I’m still pretty much at a loss as to what to do with them now that school is out for the summer. They keep me pretty busy and—Oh, good Lord. Is that me?”

The gown fit her like the proverbial glove. She seemed to go in at all the right places and out at some mildly impressive other places. The material was beautiful, the lace exquisite, the skirt that flared out just at her knees a marvel of engineering. And she felt like a complete fraud.

“It certainly is all you. What do you think?”

“I think I should probably leave the glamour to someone who feels more confident in pulling it off.”

“Agreed. Yet you’d be surprised at how many brides feel strapless and mermaid are the only way to go these days. Have you thought about T-ball?”

Elizabeth half shimmied out of the unsuitable gown, then rested a hand on Chessie’s shoulder as she carefully stepped clear of it. “Excuse me?”

“For your boys,” Chessie told her as she hung up the gown once more, zipping the bag as if to say “well, that didn’t work.” “Baseball, you know? This entire area is very big on youth baseball. The younger kids, like your Danny and Mikey, often hit from a sort of rubber tee. T-ball, get it? Or maybe they’re old enough to have real pitchers. You’d have to check.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms against her bare stomach, hugging tight her insecurities, as well as memories she still had trouble facing when they slammed into her unexpectedly. “Oh. Baseball. I don’t know a thing about sports. Jamie bought the twins baseball gloves and these cute little footballs while they were still in the hospital nursery. He was so excited to think about teaching his boys how to play ….”

She could feel Chessie’s eyes on her for a moment, but then the other woman tactfully turned back to the clear plastic bags and unzipped another one. “I think this one will be more your speed.”

“Somewhere between slow and stop, huh?”

“Oh, I like you,” Chessie said with a grin. “Just scrunch down for this one and lift up your arms. I’ll guide you to the armholes.”

Once more Elizabeth found herself almost mindlessly obeying, standing up again as she emerged from the yards and yards of tea-stained material to look at her reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, yes. I thought so,” Chessie said with some satisfaction. “It’s a perfect fit except for being just a little bit long. Step up on the podium so you get the full effect of the hemline.”

Elizabeth did as she was told. The gown felt comfortable, like something she’d owned for years and didn’t even have to think about when she was wearing it. But the way it looked, the way she looked …

She ran her fingertips along the modestly scooped neckline, the lovely cap sleeves that followed the cut of the scoop. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat as her eyes traveled down the front of the gown to the simple Empire waistline, the soft A-line skirt. She turned sideways to see there was a small sweep train on the gown that was all clean lines, no frills in the cut of it. Which made the clever use of lace elegant and not fussy.

“What … what is it made of?” she asked when she could find her voice.

“Silk crepe. Comfy, isn’t it? And that’s alençon lace on the bodice and in those sort of appliqués on the skirt and hem. Louis the Fourteenth, I think it was, called it the queen of laces. I love it because it’s so rich yet not showy. I mean, you don’t need sparkles when you’ve got alençon—just those few pearls stitched here and there. Oh, right, pearls. Wait here a second.”

Elizabeth nodded rather numbly as Chessie sped out of the room, obviously a woman on a mission, and lifted the skirt slightly at either side as she turned this way, that way, attempting to find something wrong with the gown.

But there was nothing. It was perfect. The gown had been made for her. It was her gown.

Her bottom lip began to tremble and she bit down on it, trying to hold on to her shredding composure.

“I remember seeing something like this in the photograph of the gown. Bend down so I can get this over your head,” Chessie said as she reentered the room. The next thing Elizabeth knew she was wearing a long rope of beautiful ivory pearls Chessie had wrapped once high around her neck before the length of the rope fell over her bodice and extended an inch or two past her waist. “Perfect! Nothing on your head—as if you’d need anything with that gorgeous blond hair of yours. No gloves, no bracelets. I’d say carry two or three long-stemmed calla lilies, their stems wrapped in simple ivory silk ribbon, but that’s it. Utter simplicity, complete elegance, a perfect second wedding.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were stinging now and she blinked quickly, doing her best to hold back the tears.

“We could try the third gown. We could try another ten gowns, twenty. But this is it, Elizabeth. You can’t deny it. This is your gown. I knew it the minute I saw you standing on the pavement. Am I good, or what? No, don’t answer that. I’ve got a big enough head as it is. Now let’s talk about the groom.”

And Elizabeth, who made it a point never to show her emotions in public, burst into tears.

Ten minutes later, with Eve and her bride now tucked away in the large dressing room, Chessie and Elizabeth were upstairs in Chessie’s living quarters, facing each other from a matched set of chintz love seats divided by a glass-topped coffee table.

“Better now?” Chessie asked, tucking her legs up under her on the cushions.

Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes with the last of the several tissues she’d employed after Chessie had shoved a box of them in her face. “Better enough to feel really, really embarrassed, you mean? Then, yes, I’m fine. I don’t know what happened down there.”

Chessie pulled a face. “I do. I opened my big mouth and inserted my size-nine foot. You told me right off the top that you weren’t sure you were going to say yes to the guy. Richard was it?”

“Yes, Richard. And he’s the dearest man,” she added quickly, hastening to defend him. “He’s kind and generous and gentle and …”

“Boring?”

“No! Richard is anything but boring. The boys and I live with him, you know.”

Chessie took a drink from her glass. “There’s nothing wrong with that. But, hon, your reaction downstairs? Maybe living with and marrying are two different things? I mean, fun’s fun and all of that, but marriage is a pretty big commitment.”

Elizabeth hastily raised her hands and waved them in front of her, as if to wipe away the last few moments of conversation. “Let me start over. I work for Richard. I work for him, and the boys and I live in his guesthouse. Better?”

“Definitely clearer,” her new friend said, smiling. “So what sort of work do you do for the guy?”

Elizabeth was feeling more confident now, with the subject of marriage at least temporarily shelved. “Richard’s a writer. He’s never married, lives alone and would probably starve to death without realizing it if someone didn’t take care of him. That’s how it began, with me answering his ad for part-time employment. He didn’t ask for skills, and since I really don’t have any outside of taking care of a house and making a fairly memorable pot roast, I seemed to fit the bill. But it was clear from the outset that Richard needed more than just someone to pick up after him and prepare a few meals.”

“I think I’m getting the picture. The creative genius who forgets to eat and walks around for hours with his glasses on top of his head, thinking he’s lost them?”

Elizabeth smiled. “Pretty much like that, yes, when he’s deep into a book. I’d thought I’d just come and go, with him not even realizing I’d been there. But often we talked about things, about his work. Within a week he’d found out I was renting an apartment with the boys, and he’d convinced me that boys need green grass to play on and their mother within earshot whenever possible. The next thing I knew I was a salaried, full-time employee, and the boys and I were installed in the rooms above his garages. They’re very large garages.”

“How convenient for him—that is, for all of you. Sounds like this Richard of yours is pretty wealthy. I mean, garages—plural.”

“There was family money, he told me, but he’s also quite successful on his own. His books are wonderful. He runs his ideas past me now, using me as a sounding board, I guess you’d say, since he used to bounce ideas off Sam The Dog—that’s his dog’s name—but Sam isn’t a very harsh critic. As he had me take on more and more of what he calls his scut work, Richard hired a new housekeeper so that now I’m strictly his personal assistant. Except for Sunday pot roast, of course.”

“Can’t forget the memorable pot roast,” Chessie said, lifting her soda glass in a small toast. “So what does an author’s personal assistant do?”

Elizabeth knew that Chessie wanted to keep her talking, keep her mind off what had happened downstairs, and she was more than willing to go along with that idea.

“Oh, I run errands, balance his checkbook, answer a lot of fan mail, fight with his publicist over proposed interviews and photo shoots he never wants to do, do Internet research for him, proof his pages once he’s ready for someone else to see them. And I’ve even come up with an idea or two for him. Richard swears he doesn’t know how he ever produced a single word without me. It’s … it’s very exciting—especially since, as I already told you, I have no formal training of any kind. Richard says I have a natural good ear, whatever that is.”

“It all sounds like a dream job. And Richard doesn’t mind the boys?”

Elizabeth lowered her head slightly. “I don’t think he notices them much on a day-to-day basis. But he certainly doesn’t mind them. It’s, as you’d imagine, a very large property. The boys have lunch with Richard regularly, once a week, and he asks about their schoolwork and what they want to be when they grow up—things like that. He bought them an entire array of those interactive electronic games, the complete systems with all the bells and whistles, and then gave them each new computers and flat-screen television sets for their rooms. For Christmas, he gave the three of us a week in Florida and passes to all the theme parks, even though he couldn’t come with us. The twins think he’s Santa Claus and Bill Gates, all tied up with a ribbon around his neck.”

“Not a lot there not to love, huh?”

“No, there’s not,” Elizabeth agreed, once more not quite meeting Chessie’s eyes. “He is … a bit older than I am.”

Chessie seemed to sit up straighter, as if coming to attention. “Oh, yes? How much older? Ten years? Fifteen?”

“Seventeen.” Elizabeth lifted her chin. “But that just makes him more stable, more dependable. And … and we have so much in common.”

“Yes. You both make sure Richard is well taken care of,” Chessie said, and then winced. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I don’t even know the man. But I think I see where this is going. Richard has found what he thinks is his muse, and you’ve found a secure home and probably a pretty good future for the twins. Am I right?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“You tell me. I’m not the one who burst into tears downstairs.”

Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. “I know, I know. But marrying Richard is so very logical.” She dropped her hands into her lap and looked at Chessie. “Jamie and I married when we were halfway through college, and as I told you before, I was already pregnant with the twins. I hadn’t planned to leave school, but the pregnancy changed all of that, for both of us. Jamie worked at a job he hated and went to weekend college to finish his bachelor’s degree. Everything was a struggle, but that was all right, because we had the boys. We had each other. Young love, you know? And then, just when he’d found a great job and we finally were seeing the end of the student loans and formula and diaper bills, Jamie got sick.”

She turned her head, her hands forming into fists she batted together as if to beat away the anger she still felt at the unfairness of it all. The anger and the loss and the terror and the cruel, twisting grief that had mentally and physically pushed her to her knees at Jamie’s graveside that last awful day. The long, sleepless nights, the responsibilities that never stopped, the loneliness that had at last turned her grief to some sort of stony acceptance.

“I’m so sorry, Elizabeth,” Chessie said quietly. “So very sorry.”

“So am I. We were so in love. And then we were so … tired. So stressed all the time. And just … and just when we thought we could find what we’d seemed to have lost in those diapers and bills, those constant pressures, it was all snatched away, and I felt as if my life was over. I care very much for Richard, and he cares for me. It’s … it’s safer.”

“He knows you don’t love him?”

Elizabeth pulled a fresh tissue from the box sitting on the cushion beside her. “Oh, I do love him. And he loves me. In our own way. We’re very good friends. We’re … compatible.”

“And he’s all right with that? You’re all right with that?”

“Sometimes,” Elizabeth said defensively, and then sighed. “And sometimes … well, sometimes maybe not so much.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you and Richard love each other—but you’re not in love with each other? You’re very good friends and compatible. Do you think people really can be that way? That it’s safer? Surely somebody gets hurt, sooner or later? Somebody breaks the bargain, and falls in love for real?” Then Chessie held up her hands. “Hey, but not my problem, not my business to interfere, right? I’m sure you’re doing some very heavy, sensible thinking about all of this.”

“If we can call trying on wedding gowns to see what happens even the least bit sensible.”

“Oh, I don’t know. How did it make you feel trying on that gown?”

Elizabeth felt a ridiculous giggle prickling at the back of her throat. “Beautiful, passionate, seductive, exciting. I’d have married it tomorrow, no hesitation.” Then she sighed. “But I’m no closer to knowing what I should do about Richard’s proposal than I was this morning or last week.”

“Then you know what, Elizabeth? Forget it for now. Tell Richard you need more time, and just … forget about it. School only let out a couple of days ago, you’ve got the twins home and need to do something to keep them occupied for the summer, all sorts of things to do. Am I right?”

“I only let them game, as they call it, two hours a day. They’re already telling me they’re bored. And, believe me, bored twins of a certain age—of any age, I’m beginning to think—can be like ticking time bombs. Yes, I need to devote some time to them. And Richard leaves in a few days for a five-city book tour and won’t be home for a week. Yes, you’re right. It’s not like either Richard or I are in any sort of huge rush.”

“Yeah, the test didn’t show up positive this morning,” Chessie said, grinning.

“Hardly. The only time I’ve been in Richard’s bedroom was when I was in charge of changing the sheets. Oh, I shouldn’t be saying these things. Why have I said any of these things, come to think of it?”

Chessie shrugged as she got to her feet. “It’s me. I seem to have this power over people. They look at me and the next thing I know, I’m learning their life stories. But the thing is, I love it. Maybe bridal consultants are the female version of bartenders? Now, before you go, let me call my cousin Will.”

Elizabeth got to her feet, gathering up the used tissues and shoving them deep in her pockets. “Your cousin?”

“Yes, Will. William J. Hollingswood, Esquire, to be formal about the thing. He’s coaching a youth baseball team this summer, which is probably why I thought about T-ball earlier. Let me see if he has room for two more on the roster. If that’s okay?”

“It is, but we’re not Allentown residents, if that means anything. Richard’s house is in Saucon Valley.”

Chessie was already dialing a number on her phone. “Nifty neighborhood. But it doesn’t matter. Will’s is a sort of special team, just created last week. The twins will be fine. Oh, darn, it went straight to voicemail.” She put down the phone. “Tell you what, Elizabeth. You give me your number and I’ll call you once I’ve got ahold of Will.”

Elizabeth took one of Richard’s cards from her purse and turned it over, writing her cell-phone number on the back. “I’ve only got a cell, but you can try Richard’s number if I don’t answer. And I can’t thank you enough, Chessie. I wouldn’t have had the faintest idea about how to sign the boys up for anything like this.”

“No problem,” Chessie said, turning over the card. “Richard Halstead, novelist. Nope, don’t recognize the name. But don’t ever tell him I said that.”

“I won’t. He writes more for men, I guess. Although he certainly has his share of female fans. Oh, and Chessie? Since Richard will be out of town all next week, and the housekeeper never minds watching the boys, would you … that is, I’d love for you to be my guest for dinner one night.”

“Only if we go dutch treat,” Chessie said. “And we’ll take Eve along, and maybe Marylou—God, we have to take Marylou if she isn’t busy with one of her projects. A real girls’ night out. I’m guessing you don’t have many of those.”

“No, I don’t,” Elizabeth said as the two of them descended the stairs to the first floor once more. “Thank you, Chessie. I’m really, really glad you kidnapped me.”

Once Elizabeth had gone, Chessie pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched in numbers as she headed for her office, away from Eve’s always listening ears.

“Will? Yeah, yeah, sorry for hanging up on you a couple of minutes ago, but I just had an idea when I heard your voice, an idea that I think is even better than my original idea, which wasn’t all that bad in its own altruistic way, by the way. Although this one could almost be altruistic if you didn’t look at it too hard, and—no, I have not been drinking. You know I don’t drink. Just listen, okay?”

Her cousin’s answer was short and to the point.

“Okay, so court convenes again in two minutes and we all know the legal world can’t go on without you, except that it’s going to, once your suspension kicks in. I’ll talk fast, you listen faster. I’ve got twins, boys, seven years old. They need a youth baseball team.”

She pulled the phone from her ear for a few moments while Will gave his opinion of youth baseball teams.

“Right, gotcha. A sin and a shame and a totally over-the-top reaction to your, I’m sure, perfectly calm and reasonable arguments to the judge. No, you’re never snarky, especially in court.” She laughed. “Yes, now I’m being snarky. But my heart goes out to you, it really does. Will you take them? Good. First practice tomorrow morning at nine, got it. Yeah, I know the field. They’ll be there. Now, for the second idea. Their mother is a widow, and she needs some fun.”

This time she rolled her eyes as she held the phone away from her ear for a few more moments.

“No, she does not bark. No, she does not have a tail. Although the same can’t be said for the last blind date you threw at me, buddy boy, so cut that out. You owe me one. You even said so, and I’m collecting, all right? And she’s gorgeous, Will, she really is, but maybe a little sad, a little confused.”

Chessie sighed as Will tried yet again to hang up on her. “Yes, yes, court awaits. No, I don’t want you to be held in contempt again. And no, she’s not a head case. I said confused, not certifiable. That would be the guy you set me up with at your secretary’s wedding reception, remember? Look, I’m not asking you to marry the woman, sport. I just want you to pay her a little attention, that’s all. Maybe take her to dinner a couple of times.

“Why? Because she doesn’t believe in romance anymore, that’s why. I think she’s afraid of it, I don’t think she thinks she deserves it and I think she’s going to make a big mistake if someone doesn’t remind her that her hormones are just resting, not gone. Can you do that? Pay her some attention? Nothing heavy, just flirt a little?”

She heard the bell over the front door of the shop ring to announce another customer. Still holding on to the phone, she began making her way to the reception area as Will pressed her to be more specific in her instructions.

“You want me to tell you how to be charming? Just for God’s sake, don’t take her to bed. I only want you to wake her up a little, you handsome bastard, you,” she ended, suddenly realizing there might be a problem if her plan worked too well. “I mean it, Will. Shake her up a bit so she remembers she’s not just a mom, but that she’s still young and desirable, and then back off, the way you always do. Nicely! And then we’re even, honest. Well, as long as you don’t try to throw any more blind dates my way. Agreed?”

She smiled at his answer. “Oh, you egotistical pig—I knew I could count on you.”




Chapter Two


Elizabeth pulled her small SUV into a parking space between a battered family van and a shiny black Mercedes-Benz and cut the engine. They were here. At the ball grounds … ball fields … something like that. And twenty minutes late, thanks to a wrong turn off the highway.

“I think that’s your team down there,” she said, pointing straight ahead at the windshield. “Ready?”

The silence from the backseat was deafening.

“I said,” she repeated, unsnapping her seat belt and turning around, “are you ready?”

Mikey took one hand off the handheld game he was playing and held it up, his index finger extended. “Soon as I beat this level, Mom, okay?”

“You’ll never beat that level. You always end up zapped,” his brother said. “You die like a dog, every time.”

Elizabeth reached back and grabbed the game. “Die? Who said you could play games where people die?”

“Oh, Mom,” Mikey whined as the game made a sound much like a dying whistle, followed by a splat. “Now you did it. And nobody dies, doofus, so why did you say that? The game is rated E, for everyone, just like it says on the box.”

Elizabeth looked at the screen and saw an exasperated-looking duck walking out of a pond on large webbed feet, shaking its feathers and glaring at her accusingly. “I’m sorry, Mikey,” she said, handing the game back to him. “Um … better duck next time?”

“Good one, Mom,” Danny told her. “Can we go home now?”

It had been a fight all morning. First to get them both up, then to get them to throw on shorts and tops and tie their sneakers—after they’d found their sneakers. Danny’s left one had been in the freezer and, no, she didn’t ask who had done that, because she already knew. They couldn’t decide what they wanted to eat, they needed to brush their teeth—as if either of them ever did that without first being threatened.

Elizabeth got out of the car and opened the rear side door, motioning to the boys to hurry up. “Today, people. Anyone would think you two don’t want to play baseball.”

“We don’t,” Danny said, grinning at her, his smile minus his top two front teeth. “But Richard said we should humor you.”

“Oh, he did, did he? Do either of you know what that means? That you should humor me?”

Mikey at last undid his seat belt and slid down off the safety booster seat, Elizabeth holding on to his arm as he jumped to the ground. “Not me. I only know that Richard said it’s easier to humor women than it is to fight them. Unless you wanted us to eat spinach or something.”

Elizabeth’s annoyance melted like spring snow under the warm, gap-toothed smiles of her sons. Boys could get away with murder, just with their smiles. Including boys who were well into their forties. It was simply impossible to stay angry with any of them.

She made shooing motions with her hands, aiming both boys toward the grassy incline that led down to the small ball field … ball court … whatever.

As she followed them, Elizabeth quickly realized she had already made at least two mistakes, and the boys weren’t even officially signed up yet. One, they were the only children wearing shorts, and two, they were the only children not carrying gloves. No, mitts. She remembered that word from Jamie. They were called baseball mitts.

Danny and Mikey stopped a good distance from the other children and turned to look at her, their identical big blue eyes that were so much like their father’s gazing at her in mute appeal.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” she said, stepping between them and taking their hands. “Let’s look for Mr. Hollingswood, all right? Chessie told him we’d be here.”

She walked closer, careful to stay to the left of the long white chalk line that seemed to mark the beginning of the playing area, heading toward a low wooden bench and three men who were watching as the children threw balls at each other. Elizabeth would have thought that they were playing catch, except it didn’t seem that anyone was actually catching anything. There was just a lot of throwing and then chasing after the ball going on, except for the trio of boys who were huddled together, examining a worm one of them was holding.

Chessie had said her cousin was a hunk; that was how she’d described him. Elizabeth thought that wouldn’t be much of a help until she got closer to the three men. Then it got very easy to pick him out.

He was taller than the other two men wearing matching bright blue T-shirts with the word Eagles stitched on the back at shoulder level. He had none of the softness around the gut the others had. He was wearing classy tan Bermuda shorts as opposed to their baggy jeans, and he had his baseball cap on backward, the coal-black hair beneath it looking mussed in the way only great hair can.

Besides, as he raised the reflective, wraparound sunglasses he was wearing, giving her a glimpse of a pair of emerald-green eyes, and started walking toward her, he said, “Elizabeth Carstairs? Hi, I’m Will Hollingswood, Chessie’s cousin. These your boys?”

That pretty much cinched it.

“Yes, I’m Elizabeth. And,” she said, raising one hand first, and then the other, “this is Danny, and this is Mikey. Boys, say hello to Mr. Hollingswood.”

“Coach,” Will corrected quickly. “It’s shorter. Hi, boys. You like baseball?”

“No,” Mikey said, and Elizabeth gave his hand a warning squeeze, so that her son quickly added, “Thank you?”

“Close, Mikey, but not quite the answer I was hoping for,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Tell Coach you want to learn how to play baseball.”

“But I don’t,” Mikey, always honest, told her not quite as quietly.

“But we need the fresh air,” Danny piped up, always helpful. “And Mom needs the break. That’s what Richard says.”

Elizabeth looked at Will, who had now pushed his sunglasses up on his head as he gazed at her, his smile wide and white and pretty much something out of a toothpaste ad, if GQ even allowed toothpaste ads.

“They really don’t know much about sports. I’m sorry.”

“Well, this should be fun,” he said, and Elizabeth felt hot color running into her cheeks. “Do they have mitts?”

“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.”

“All right, if you say so. But what’s an iron pig?”

Will thought about this for a moment. “Well. Iron pigs are what they poured steel into? Or maybe it’s a twist on pig iron? I know the name has something to do with the local Bethlehem Steel Works plant, back when steel was the largest industry around here, instead of the casino that’s operating on part of the old plant grounds now.”

“In other words, Counselor, you don’t know what an iron pig is?”

“I haven’t got a clue,” Will answered truthfully. “Does it matter?”

“To you or me? Maybe not. But do you remember being a seven-year-old boy, Will?”

Will considered this for all of five seconds. “I’ll find out. But I’m betting I’m not going to be able to discover why the mascot is a huge fuzzy brown pig named FeRROUS, and they’ll probably ask me that, too, right?”

“If they don’t, I know I will.”

“Thanks for the warning and, I hope, for accepting my invitation. The game starts at seven, and there’s always a lot of entertainment for the kids between innings. What do you say?”

“I … um …” She looked into the backseat, where the twins were using their new mitts in a sort of duel with each other. “I suppose so. They really don’t seem to have a single idea of what baseball is all about, do they?”

“It doesn’t look like it, no,” Will told her in all honesty. “But that’s not your fault.”

“Because I’m a woman,” Elizabeth said, “or because I don’t have a husband to teach them?”

Will mentally kicked himself. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. That didn’t come out the way I meant it. Not that I’m sure I know what I meant. I don’t have kids, but if I did, and they were girls? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be up on all the … girl stuff.”

“So baseball is boys’ stuff? Didn’t you say there are three little girls on the team?”

Will sighed. “You’re doing this on purpose, right? And I’m moving too fast. Do you want me to take back my invitation?”

She bit her bottom lip as she shook her head in the negative, those entrancing thick ribbons of blunt-cut curls moving with her and making his palms itch to run through her hair. “I haven’t been on a date since … but this isn’t a date because Danny and Mikey are going with us, so … so I don’t know why I’m being so obnoxious. We’d love to go see the IronPigs with you.”

“Great,” Will said, belatedly realizing that he really cared about the answer Elizabeth gave him. Him, the guy who saw women as pretty much interchangeable—and always replaceable. But he wouldn’t think about that right now. “Let me get the boys their shirts and caps from the back of my car. They can wear them tonight.”




Chapter Three


Elizabeth left the twins with Elsie, Richard’s housekeeper, in the kitchen, where they were proudly showing her all their purchases, except for the bat their mother had insisted remain outside a house filled with antiques and lamps and other treasures that probably should not come in contact with a seven-year-old and his new toy.

She ducked into the powder room just off the kitchen to wash her hands, splash cold water on her face and make use of the toothbrush she kept there, as she felt fairly certain she had pepperoni breath.

Then she went in search of Richard, who was most likely in his study, killing somebody.

She knocked on the door and poked her head into the large, cherrywood-paneled room that overlooked the swimming pool, the tennis court and a seemingly limitless expanse of well-designed grounds. “Richard? We’re back.”

Her employer, friend and possible fiancé looked up at her blankly for a moment before his busy brain hit on the “Oh, it’s Elizabeth” switch, and then returned his attention to the computer monitor in front of him. “Home from the baseball wars, are you? That’s nice, Elizabeth. Tell me, what’s another word for incomprehensible? As in, she experienced an incomprehensible reaction.”

“Inconceivable? Unfathomable?” She thought about Will Hollingswood—why, she didn’t know. “Inexplicable?”

“Yes, that last one. Definitely containing more of a hint of sexually motivated confusion. That’s perfect,” Richard said, his fingers flying over the keys for a moment before he sat back, smiled at her. “I’d use the thesaurus that comes with this incomprehensible new computer program, but you’re faster and less likely to have me crashing the machine.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Elizabeth said, walking over to the huge U-shaped desk that had been custom-built for Richard, and subsiding into the chair she sat in when he wanted to watch her face as she read his work. “You had to change programs to be compatible with the new operating system.”

“True enough. But in my next book I think I’ll devise an untimely and considerably messy end for some software mogul. Remind me, all right?”

“Wasn’t it enough that you dropped that cheating tax collector off a conveyor belt and into a vat of hot latex meant for condoms?”

“Ah, yes, the Triple-Ripple Extra Sensitive Deluxes, weren’t they? Only barely enough, Elizabeth. Nothing is too undignifying a death for a tax collector.” He pushed his computer glasses up high on his head, where he would soon forget they were, just as Chessie had said.

“I don’t think undignifying is really a word, Richard.”

“No? It should be,” he said, rubbing at his jaw, shadowed a bit in a mix of brown and gray day-old beard. “Didn’t shave this morning, did I? Well, I’ll do that before dinner, I promise. I’ve, well, I’ve been on a roll today. So, tell me. How did the boys enjoy their first day of baseball?”

As she told him about the field, and the boys throwing balls and then chasing them because nobody seemed able to catch them, and recounted their shopping trip and pizza lunch—leaving out mention of Will Hollingswood for reasons she wasn’t about to examine at the moment—Elizabeth looked at Richard, telling herself yet again that he was a very handsome man. A very nice, gentle, sweet and caring man.

His sandy hair was always too long and a bit shaggy, but she couldn’t imagine him any other way. He may be getting just a little thicker around his waist, but he was still a very fit man. He played golf twice a week and had his own fully equipped exercise room he used … well, when he remembered to use it.

His eyes were brown, like hers, but rather deeper-set, the lines around them a sign of too many hours in front of the computer but flattering in the way that wrinkles made a man more interesting while they only made a woman look older.

Yes, he was a handsome man. If he was, again, a woman, he’d be described as a well-preserved forty-five. As a man, it would more probably be said that he was just entering his prime. And she was twenty-eight, not exactly a teenager. That wasn’t so terrible, was it?

Chessie had seemed to think so. Or were her reservations centered more on what she saw as other problems?

“Richard?” she asked when he didn’t smile as she finished telling him about Mikey’s horrified reaction to learn that there would be yucky girls on his baseball team. Girls and seven-year-old boys were like oil and water, it seemed. “Have you been listening to me?”

“Yes, of course. The boys bought mitts and gloves and shoes. And bats! Let me reimburse you for those. God knows you’re grossly underpaid. Your employer should be shot.”

His eyes kept drifting toward the monitor. Elizabeth stood up and walked around the desk, placing a kiss on his cheek. “You will not pay for their equipment, thank you. You’ve already paid for their registration. And now I’ll leave you alone because obviously I’ve interrupted you at some crucial moment in your story. But, first, may I see?”

“I don’t think it’s quite ready for prime time, Elizabeth,” he said, moving the mouse to one of the corners of the monitor, so that the screen went black. “I’m trying something new, you understand.”

“But … but you’re in the middle of a book.”

“That can’t be helped. Sometimes a writer has to take a voyage of discovery, follow his muse where it leads. Or at least that sounds important, doesn’t it? Truthfully, I’m pretty much stuck on how to work the next scene in the current manuscript, so I’m playing with an idea I had the other day.”

“A new character?”

“No,” he said, looking somewhat sheepish. “A new genre. James Patterson does it. Others have done it, are doing it. Why shouldn’t I? I’m writing … trying to write … a love story.”

Elizabeth was dumbfounded. “A love story? You mean a romance?”

“No, my dear. When women write such books, they write romances. When men write them, they’re love stories.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Respect. Men get points for sensitivity and women get slammed for being sentimental and encouraging their readers to believe in fairy tales. Equality may be written about in books, but the publishing industry, or at least the critics and reviewers, are pretty much the last to acknowledge the fact.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Enough that John and I are going round and round about this book, if I do write it, if he can place it,” Richard said, referring to his agent. “What do you think of the pen name Anna Richards? My mother’s maiden name.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You really plan to publish this book as a woman? Why?”

Richard pushed his chair away from the desk and stood up. “Why, so I can have it announced two weeks after publication that I, Richard Halstead, darling of the critics, am the real author.”

“Because you don’t think the reviews will be as good as they are for your other books,” Elizabeth said, nodding. “But, Richard, what if they are?”

“Damn. I hadn’t thought of that one.” He pulled her toward him and gave her a kiss on the forehead before slipping his arm around her waist and guiding her toward the doorway. She could have been his daughter, or his collie, Sam The Dog. “See why I need you, Elizabeth? Now I’m going to have to rethink the entire thing, aren’t I? Oh, and I have some news.”

“Really? I’ve only been out of the house for a few hours, and already you’re writing a roman—a love story and changing your name while you’re at it.”

“Not anymore. I think I’ll stick to my own name. I’m sure John will thank you for that. And I’m not even sure I’ll finish the book. I’ve only just begun it, and I’m honest enough to tell you that it isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. Killing people is much less complicated than dealing with all these emotions. But, no, my real news is that I’m leaving tonight for my tour, heading to New York to do the Browardshow.”

“Richard!” Elizabeth hugged him in genuine joy. “I know how you’ve longed to do that show. What a coup.”

“There was a cancellation so I’m a second choice but not too proud to grab at it. But now I have to ask you to pack for me. Only enough for two days, and you can forward the rest of my luggage on to Detroit, my original launch city. Do you mind?”

“Mind? Of course not. It’s why you so grossly underpay me, remember?” she said with a smile, beating down a selfish and probably dishonorable little voice inside her that was saying, Now you don’t have to tell him about Will. Not that there’s anything to tell him. Really.

“I should have you writing my dialogue for me,” he said as he paused at the door, clearly escorting her out of his sanctum so he could get back to his love story, but doing it in such a tactful way that she really couldn’t mind. “John’s arranged for a car to pick me up at four, and he and I will have supper at my hotel. I’d hoped we could dine together tonight, Elizabeth, perhaps talk a bit more about … my proposal.”

“That would have been very nice. But we wouldn’t want to be rushed about things, would we?” Elizabeth said, clutching at straws.

Richard frowned as he looked down into her face. “I should take you to Rome. Or Paris. Be more romantic.”

Elizabeth raised her hand to his cheek. “You have a deadline. You have this book tour. I understand.”

“I’ll always have a deadline, Elizabeth,” he reminded her. “I’ll always have half my head living in a world filled with my own creations. There’s a part of me that’s still a selfish child, playing inside my own imagination. I’m not offering you a lot, am I?”

“You’ve offered me everything you can give, and I’m more grateful than I can express. If … if I could just have a little more time …”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “That’s precisely what she needs to say to him, and in just that way.” He gave Elizabeth a quick hug. “What would I do without you?”

“I have no idea,” Elizabeth said quietly as she watched Richard hurry back to his computer. How strange. This morning, she would have been flattered and taken his words as yet another reason she should accept his proposal. But now? Now she felt no real satisfaction in being Richard’s assistant, Richard’s muse, Richard’s very good and comfortable companion. And she hated herself for that lack.

And then she tilted her head to one side, watching him as he attacked the keyboard. Why was Richard suddenly writing a love story? A week ago, before his proposal, he’d been deep in his book, racing through the pages as if there weren’t enough hours in the day to get all of his ideas down.

So why this switch? Was he feeling the same lack she was? Was he still, in his own way, searching for something more? Something that, for all their compatibility and friendship, he knew he hadn’t found in her?

And if she hadn’t met Will Hollingswood this morning, would she even be asking herself any of these questions?

Elizabeth checked on the twins, was assured by Elsie that they were fine with her, helping her mix up a batch of peanut butter cookies, and then she went upstairs to pack Richard’s suitcase.

“Oh, my,” Elizabeth said as they walked into the ballpark and the field opened up in front of them. “I had no idea there was anything like this in the area. Boys, look over there,” she said, pointing to the large scoreboard above center field. “There’s the IronPig.”

They’d entered the ballpark through gates that led to a wide concrete area wrapping around the field above the main seating area that stretched from where they were, right field, to behind home plate, and then stretched out again along the left field line. It was as if they were standing on the rim of a bowl, with the rows of seats ahead of them leading down to the natural grass field itself.

Will stepped up behind them, looking across the outfield at the huge pink snarling pig head that made no sense, yet somehow seemed to make perfect sense … if you didn’t mind wearing shirts and hats with steroid-strong cartoon pigs on them.

“Pig iron, boys,” he said, “is a sort of in-between product that’s a result of smelting iron ore with coke and … some other things. It’s used to make steel, like for bridges and buildings. At one time, the Bethlehem Steel Works plants in, well, in Bethlehem, which is right next door to Allentown, made some of the best steel in the world. Bethlehem steel was used, for instance, for the Empire State Building and the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, and even in the reconstruction of the White House. You know, where our president lives.”

Danny, or maybe it was Mikey, turned his head to look up at Will as if he had been speaking Greek. “Uh-huh. Can I have some cotton candy? Some of the blue kind?”

“What? Oh, sure, no problem,” Will said, leading them all toward the kiosk displaying bags of pink and blue cotton candy. “I thought you said they’d ask,” he said quietly to Elizabeth. “I’ve got the whole story, mostly. Although I didn’t think I’d mention the part where the molten iron was poured into a long channel and then these forms sort of branched off all along the sides of the channel, and somebody decided the whole thing looked like a litter of piglets, you know, feeding from the mother sow. Pigs, iron—pig iron.”

“You were probably wiser not to get that involved,” Elizabeth said, clearly trying to hold back a smile but not succeeding. “You really looked up the definition of pig iron, and all that information about the steel plants? That was very sweet of you.”

He pulled out a ten-dollar bill to pay for two bags of cotton candy and got four ones back in change. At least somebody was operating on a pretty hefty profit margin these days. “But not entirely helpful. I couldn’t find anything about how pig iron got turned around into iron pig, and I still sure as hell don’t know why anyone would name a baseball team the IronPigs.”

“Well, I’m beginning to think it’s rather cute. And you have to admit he’s a pretty ferocious-looking pig. Oh, look, they have a store. Is there time for me to take a look around before the game starts?”

“If you let me stay out here and wait for you, sure,” he told her, already eyeing the line in front of the beer stand. “Would you like me to get you something to drink?”

“Thank you, yes. I’ll have a lemonade if they have any. And apple juice or something for the boys? It might help wash some of that sugar off their teeth.”

“You’ve got it,” he told her, looking at the boys, who were both already sticky with cotton candy, their fingers, cheeks and definitely their tongues turning a deep shade of blue. “Uh, I shouldn’t have let them have that, should I?”

“Cotton candy wouldn’t have been my first choice, no. But they both ate all of their supper, so it’s all right. At least they’re not asking to go home. But you know what? I don’t think I should take them into the store while they’re all sticky like that, do you? Could you watch them for me? I want to get them each something with the pig on it.”

Panic, swift and fairly terrible, kicked Will in the midsection. He suddenly remembered why he’d always made it a point to never date women with children. “Me? Watch them? Oh,” he said, attempting to look, if not fatherly, then at least reasonably competent. “Sure, no problem.”

“Thank you,” she said, rummaging in her purse. “Here’s some wet wipes in case they finish their cotton candy.” Elizabeth’s smile strangely made his sacrifice seem worth the effort, and he held out his hand as he mutely accepted the wrapped packets. He then watched her disappear into the crowd milling along the walkway behind the right field seats, feeling only slightly desperate.

“Okay, boys, let’s go get Coach a nice cold one.”

“A cold what? Can we have one, too? Where’s Mom?” one of them asked, the one who had somehow gotten cotton candy on his elbow. How the hell did you get cotton candy on an elbow?

“You’ve got to be Mikey, right?”

“Yeah. So where’s my mom?”

“She went to buy you guys some Pigs stuff. She’ll be right back.” So please don’t cry.

“Cool,” Mikey said, licking his fingers. “I’m thirsty. Hey, Danny, are you thirsty?”

Danny, who had wandered off without Will realizing he was gone, walked back to them wiping his hands together after tossing the empty plastic bag in a garbage can. At least they were … trained. “Sure. I saw a kid with a hot dog. We could get hot dogs. Or maybe pizza? I saw some pizza, too.”

Will was beginning to sense that Elizabeth’s sons were going to eat their way through their first experience at a baseball game.

“Here, hold out your hands,” he told them, ripping open one of the packets. With memories of his mother scrubbing at his sticky face and hands with a washcloth, he started by wiping their faces and then opened two more packets and gave them each a wet towelette so they could clean their own hands. He reserved the last packet for himself, to clean himself up after cleaning them up.

“Will? Will Hollingswood? Is there something I should know?”

Will shut his eyes for a moment, recognizing the voice, knowing who would be standing behind him when he turned around.

“Hi, Kay,” he said grabbing the used towelettes the twins were shoving at him and stuffing them in his pocket before turning to look at the tall, stunningly beautiful brunette. “I didn’t know you liked the Pigs.”

“Well, then that makes us even. I didn’t know you had children.”

“Very funny. They’re not mine, Kay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Okay, not so funny this time. Kay, look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but it’s been a hell—” he shot a quick look at the twins, who weren’t really paying attention, thank God “—a heck of a week.”

“Yes, I heard about The Hammer. Are these two of your little baseball team children?”

“They’ve never seen a baseball game,” Will answered, going into lawyer mode. Tell the truth while saying nothing.

“And the entire team is here somewhere? You’re really taking this punishment seriously, aren’t you? Or maybe just trying to score brownie points with The Hammer, which wouldn’t be a bad idea. You really were out of line, Will, you know.”

“So says the assistant district attorney. If you’d been sitting at the defense table, you would have objected, too.”

Kay shrugged her bare shoulders. She was dressed in a sort of tube top that didn’t quite reach her waist, and a miniscule tan skirt whose length only barely passed the public decency test. It was like there were two Kays, the buttoned-down prosecutor in the courtroom and the sensual, sexual shark everywhere else. He should know.

And he needed her gone before Elizabeth got back.

Besides, the twins were now running in circles in a small cleared spot near the beer stand, chasing each other and nearly bumping into people, including a guy built like a Mack truck and carrying a full tray of beers. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who’d just laugh and say “boys will be boys” if the tray hit the ground.

“I’ve got to go, Kay,” he told her, pointing to the twins.

But he’d left it too late, because here came Elizabeth toward him, carrying a large plastic bag with the image of an IronPig on it.

“Danny! Mikey! Get over here.”

The twins stopped running and raced to their mother, each of them grabbing for the bag. She pulled out a pink baseball hat with the IronPigs logo on it and then handed the bag to her sons. “You each have the same thing, so there’s no reason to kill yourselves trying to see.”

Then she looked at Will. And saw Kay.

“I’m sorry I took so long, Will. There was a line at the register. Hello,” she said to Kay.

Will didn’t physically step between the two women, but he did think about it. “Elizabeth Carstairs—Assistant District Attorney Kay Quinlan.”

“Oh, how formal, Will,” Kay said, extending her hand. “Outside the courtroom, I’m just Kay. Are these two adorable boys your sons?”

“Only mostly adorable, but yes, they’re mine.”

Will grabbed the twins and stood them in front of him, his hands on their shoulders. Not that he needed a shield from either woman. “Mikey, Danny, meet Assist—that is, meet Ms. Quinlan.”

The boys mumbled something that sounded vaguely like a greeting and then went back to their new possessions, matching baseball caps and a pair of tan canvas-covered stuffed dogs sporting blue bandannas with the IronPigs logo on them.

Elizabeth must have seen him looking at the dogs. “They’re autograph hounds. I thought if I could interest the boys in the players that they’d also become more interested in the game. The salesgirl told me the players often sign autographs before and after the games. Is that all right? Oh,” she added, reaching into her purse, “I also got them a set of trading cards with the players’ photographs on them. Although the roster—roster, right?—isn’t complete anymore because players are always coming and going. Some of them have gone up to the big show already this year.”

“The big show?” Will grinned at Elizabeth’s earnest expression. “You mean, the big leagues, up with the Phillies.”

“If you say so. She just said the big show. I’m sorry, Kay. This is all new to me—and to the boys. Will has been kind enough to help explain the game to them now that they’re on a team.”

“So they are on your team?” Kay asked, one perfect eyebrow arched. “The one that only came into existence in the last few days? My, my, William, you don’t let any grass grow, do you?”

“Excuse me,” Elizabeth said, taking Mikey’s hand, probably knowing that where one twin went the other followed. “I think Mikey would like a hot dog. We’ll be right over there, Will. Kay? So nice meeting you.”

Will waited until Elizabeth and the boys were standing at the back of the line at the hot dog stand and then turned back to glare at Kay. “You had to do that?”

“Probably not. She seems like a nice woman. Let me guess. Newly divorced?”

“Widowed.”

“Even worse. Shame on you. Well, at least now she’s been warned, hasn’t she? When are you going to make your move, Slick?”

“I’m not making a move, Kay.”

“Sure you are. And the sooner you make it, the sooner you’ll be back in the pool. Call me.”

“I’m not making any—Oh, the hell with it,” he said as Kay turned away, heading for the beer kiosk.

He stood where he was for a few moments, his thirst for a beer gone, and wondered how he was going to explain Kay to Elizabeth. She’s nobody important, just someone I sleep with once in a while when we’re both bored? No, that wasn’t going to cut it. Did he have to say anything at all? Probably not, at least not from the way Elizabeth had looked at him before taking the boys to the hot dog stand.

How the hell had he gotten into this mess? Okay, so he knew how he’d gotten into the mess. He should never have tried to set Chessie up with somebody, especially with anal-retentive estate lawyer Bob Irving. Payback was a bitch, but what was fair was fair. And the idea had seemed simple enough. Show the girl a good time, Chessie said. Flirt with her, make her feel feminine, desirable. Remind her she’s still young—and all that crap.

Sure. Great plan.

Then have her standing there all fresh-cheeked and vulnerable, with her mommy-clothes yellow blouse and knee-length denim skirt and her silly pink IronPigs baseball cap on, and two cute but definitely not disposable kids with her, and introduce her to the sleek, sensual, übersophisticated, smart-mouthed Kay Quinlan.

That ought to help Elizabeth come out of her shell, or wherever the hell place it was that Chessie seemed to think she needed to get out of. Not.

Then again, who needed this? Not him. He didn’t like kids, didn’t know how to relate to them. Cleaning off sticky faces definitely wasn’t a turn-on. Nor was trying to romance a woman whose kids kept getting in the way.

He looked over at the hot dog stand to see that the boys were now munching happily as Elizabeth squeezed mustard on her own napkin-wrapped hot dog. They were kind of cute kids, though. Maybe they needed a haircut. All those curls on boys old enough to be swinging a baseball bat? He’d be surprised if they weren’t teased in school. But a woman raising her boys alone maybe wouldn’t know the little ins and outs of boy stuff. The kids could have a problem.

“Nah. Mikey would sock anyone who teased him,” Will told himself quietly. “And Danny would talk the rest of them to death.”

Will frowned. How did he know that? He’d only been with the twins for a couple of hours that morning. But he was already beginning to be able to tell them apart just by their mannerisms, the way they talked, the words each of them used. The way Danny played his mother like a fine Stradivarius, the way Mikey couldn’t seem to stand still for more than five seconds at a time.

The blare of the loudspeaker on a nearby pole alerted Will that the team was taking the field, snapping him out of thoughts that weren’t making him all that happy anyway.

He walked over to Elizabeth and told her it was time to take their seats. They filed into the box in the third row behind the dugout just as it was time to stand for the national anthem. Elizabeth yanked Danny’s baseball cap off just as Will was doing the same for Mikey—their nearly synchronized movements seeming so natural to him and maybe even satisfying. Elizabeth smiled at him in thanks for his help, and he suddenly had a niggling feeling that, although he was the only one who hadn’t had anything to eat yet tonight, he’d maybe just bitten off more than he could chew.

“I still can’t believe they sell turkey legs at a ballpark,” Elizabeth said as Will eased his car into the line of traffic leaving the ballpark. She felt so comfortable with him now that it was difficult to believe she’d been nervous and vacillating up until the moment he’d picked them up for the game.

“I still can’t believe Mikey ate one,” he told her, waving his arm out the window to thank the trucker who’d let him in line. “Plus the slice of pizza and the snow cone.”

“And the hot pretzel—although, to be fair, you ate at least half of it,” Elizabeth told him, taking off her baseball cap and running her hand through her curls. “And we won. You do realize that now the boys will expect fireworks if their team wins a game.”

“We don’t keep score, remember?”

“… four … five … hey, Mom, I’ve got six autographs,” Danny called out from the backseat. “And Mikey got seven. But we can get more next time, right?”

“Yeah, Mom. Next time. When are we going again? I love the Pigs. Oink! Oink!”

Elizabeth and Will exchanged looks. “Methinks you’ve created a pair of monsters, Coach. I don’t know how much they understand now about baseball, but they certainly understand all that food and getting autographs.”

They were free of the parking lot now, and Will deliberately turned left as most of the traffic was turning right. The trip home might be longer this way, he told Elizabeth, but at least they wouldn’t be sitting in traffic for the next quarter hour.

“No problem. I told you, I have season tickets. But I’m afraid the team leaves for a road trip tomorrow morning. A road trip, guys, means that they’ll be playing their games in somebody else’s ballpark. They won’t be back here for another week or even longer.”

There were twin sighs of frustration from the backseat that were not matched by the occupants of the front seat.

“They’ll be fine,” Elizabeth assured him. “With luck, they’ll also both be asleep by the time we get back to the highway. We all really did have a wonderful time tonight, Will. Thank you.”

“Actually, thank you. That was a lot of fun, explaining the game to the boys. They asked some pretty good questions, too.”

“But I didn’t?”

He shot her a grin. “Oh, I don’t know. The one about why the players don’t wear dark pants so that they don’t get so dirty wasn’t too terrible.”

“They were wearing white, Will. Who plays in the dirt while wearing white? I pity whoever has to presoak all those uniforms.”

“But they’re the home team, Elizabeth. The home team wears white. It’s … tradition.”

“And it’s a tradition that would only last another three days if the team owners had to personally presoak the uniforms themselves,” she said firmly. “Don’t say anything. I know I’m being silly. I just couldn’t think of anything else to ask you. But I think I cheered at the right times.” She turned slightly in her seat and looked behind her. “Ah, out cold, the pair of them. And we didn’t even reach the highway yet.”

Worse, Elizabeth thought, with the twins asleep, and the subject of the baseball game pretty much worn out, now she had to find something to say to Will to keep the conversation going. She dredged her mind for a topic, being very careful to avoid the subject of the beautiful and clearly well-known-to-Will Kay.

Not that his relationship with the assistant district attorney had anything to do with her. Because she and Will weren’t on a date. You don’t take a pair of bottomless pit rowdy seven-year-olds with you on a date. Not a real date ….




Chapter Four


Will had turned on the radio, and they’d allowed the music to fill the silence for most of the ride back to Saucon Valley.

He’d asked Elizabeth if she’d seen Billy Joel’s Broadway musical, Movin’ Out, the one that featured the singer’s hit song, “Allentown.”

She hadn’t, but she did know the song. That led to a short biography, as she thought of it, and Elizabeth told him how she’d grown up in Harrisburg, the state capital, but she and Jamie had moved to the Allentown area to follow a job transfer.

“When he died, my mother wanted me to move back home, but I was young and stupidly independent. I knew if I moved home, my mother would turn me back into her kid again, take charge of my life. I was a mother now, and I had to learn to stand on my own two feet, raise my boys. At least that’s what I thought. Stupid, huh? With them barely out of diapers, I certainly could have used the help. But my mother’s gone now—she moved to Sarasota, that is—and I’ve learned to feel like this area is our home.”

“And now you’re working for a famous author, Chessie told me.”

“Richard, yes.” She looked out the window as they drove past the large three-story mansion—there was nothing else to call it but a mansion. “You came in through the gates earlier, but if you drive past them, there’s another lane you can use to get straight to the guesthouse and garages.”

“Okay, I see it,” Will said, and in another few moments they were in sight of the large stone-walled bank of garages. There was a light burning at the top of the outside staircase and the small landing that was there and another in the kitchen lit up two of the windows. “How old is this place? Do you know?”

“Richard says the main house was built in 1816, but the garages were added much later, along with several additions to the house itself. It’s difficult to tell, though, as the stone is such a good match. The original Halstead homestead was part of a very large farm.”

Will pulled his car to a halt behind Elizabeth’s and put the transmission in Park. “Halstead.” And then he said it again. “Halstead … oh, now I remember. There’s an old oil painting of a Judge Halstead in the courthouse. Very imposing man. I have a feeling a lawyer who spoke out of turn in his courthouse probably ended up in the public stocks. Or maybe his wig just itched.”

“He wore a wig?” Elizabeth eyed the staircase to her apartment. She wanted to be up there, safely on the other side of the door. What was the matter with her? She hadn’t been nervous earlier. Why was she nervous now? “That must have been a long time ago. Well … well, thank you again, Will. The boys and I really had a nice time.”

Will shifted on his seat, looking over his shoulder. “You’re going to need help with these guys. They’re out cold. And I’d love a cup of coffee, if you don’t mind.”

He’d love a cup of coffee. Of course he would. It would only be polite to ask him, too. Elizabeth Carstairs, you’re hopeless!

“Oh, yes, of course,” she said, opening her door before he could come around and do the courteous thing. The date-like thing. “You’ll have to pop the child locks,” she reminded him.

She then opened one of the back doors while he opened the other and, together, they looked at the sleeping twins. Danny had used his autograph hound as a sort of headrest, and Mikey—oh, oh, Mikey—had his thumb in his mouth. He only did that when he was exhausted. Her heart melted.

“Come on, boys. We’re home. You have to get up now,” she told them, reaching in to touch them each on the cheek. So soft, so warm. Her babies. “Mikey, come on, sweetheart. Danny?”

“I’m thinking a megaphone,” Will said, grinning at her across the expanse of the backseat. “Or maybe dynamite.”

Elizabeth shook Mikey’s bare leg and then unhooked his seat belt. “Mikey. Michael Joseph Carstairs. Wake up!”

“Wake up, it’s time for bed. That makes sense. That’s a mother thing, isn’t it, passed down from generation to generation,” Will said, unhooking Danny’s seat belt. “Look, Elizabeth, I have an idea. You run ahead and open the door, and I’ll carry them upstairs, one at a time.”

The idea made sense. Perfect sense. Well, perfect sense to someone who hadn’t been both mother and father to the twins since they were three. She was used to handling the boys on her own. She was independent. She was capable. She was being an idiot ….

She reached into her purse for her keys. “I can manage Mikey,” she said, already pulling the boy’s pliable form toward her. “Fireman’s lift. It works.” She took Mikey’s new hat from him, stuck it on her own head—what else was there to do with it?—hefted her son over her shoulder and then retrieved the autograph hound, tucking it under her other arm. Her knees wanted to buckle slightly, but she ignored their protest. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Will told her, putting Danny’s new IronPigs hat on his own head before grabbing up Danny and his autograph hound. He then kicked his side door shut, so that Elizabeth did the same thing, and, together, they made their way up the flight of wooden stairs to the landing.

Fitting the key in the lock wasn’t easy, but she managed, even while mentally trying to remember if she’d moved the laundry basket from the kitchen table, where she’d earlier sat sorting socks and little boy underwear. One look inside the kitchen told her that she hadn’t. Some people use fresh flowers as a centerpiece, she told herself as she led the way through the apartment, flipping on lights as she went.

“Right through here,” she said as they passed by her bedroom and she turned into the larger of the two bedrooms, the one shared by the twins. Bending her knees, she managed to pull back the covers and then gratefully lowered Mikey onto the mattress. “If he’d had one more hot dog tonight, I wouldn’t have been able to manage this,” she said, watching as Will untied Danny’s sneakers and pulled them off.

Did Will know he was still wearing Danny’s hat? The hat didn’t quite fit, and he had it on sideways. Did he know how adorable he looked?

“Sorry, I think the left lace is still knotted,” he said, now tackling Danny’s socks. “Nothing seems to be waking them, does it? I don’t remember the last time I slept this well—or this deeply.”

“The sleep of the innocent,” Elizabeth told him, pulling the covers up over Mikey’s chest. They could take baths in the morning. A little dirt wouldn’t kill them, nor would having them sleep in their clothes.

“The innocent, huh?” Will said, smiling at her as they walked out of the darkened room. “That explains it. I haven’t been innocent in a long time.”

She shot him a weak smile as she leaned past him to close the bedroom door. “You’ve still got Danny’s hat on, you know.”

He reached up and took it off, handing it to her before reaching for Mikey’s hat, which was still on her head. “Long live the Pigs.”

“Oink, oink,” Elizabeth said, putting the hats down on the hall table. “This way they’ll be able to find them first thing in the morning. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot of that pink pig.”

“I’m trying to figure out how you manage two kids at one time. I mean, I can see how you do it now—and you do it very well. But what about when they were younger? One is a handful. Two is twice that.”

“I had my ways,” Elizabeth told him as they passed back down the hall, her bedroom to their left, a combined living and dining area to their right. “When I needed to carry both of them, I’d pick up Danny first and then let Mikey climb me.”

They entered the brightly lit kitchen, and Elizabeth headed for the automatic coffeemaker she’d already prepared for the morning and switched it on.

“Excuse me?”

She turned to rest her hip against the counter. “I’d hold Danny, and then Mikey would grab on to my hand with both of his and put his feet against my leg. I’d pull, and he’d climb. Once he was high enough, he’d sort of snuggle against me and I could hold him.” Elizabeth felt her cheeks growing hot. “Sort of like King Kong climbing the Empire State Building.”

“Except that you’re a lot more soft and snuggly than good old Bethlehem steel,” Will said, looking at her in a way that made Elizabeth think perhaps what little makeup she wore had smudged beneath her eyes or something.

“I … I have some cookies in that jar on the table. Peanut butter. The boys made them today with Elsie, Richard’s housekeeper. They’re very good.”

“That sounds nice, yes,” Will said, stepping closer to her, which wasn’t a huge feat, as the kitchen wasn’t all that large. “Here,” he said, reaching toward her, “let me fix this. Your button must have come open when you were carrying Mikey.”

Elizabeth looked down in shock to see Will’s tanned hands, his long fingers, working with the material of her blouse that had, indeed, come open, revealing the line of her fairly utilitarian bra. He didn’t linger, didn’t do anything more than slip the button back into its buttonhole, but Elizabeth had to fight a shiver at the unexpected intimacy.

He looked into her eyes. He smiled. His eyes smiled. Teased. Then he backed off.

“Coffee’s ready,” she said, turning to grab two mugs from the cabinet, congratulating herself for not having fainted dead away or begun drooling or some such idiocy. “What would you like with it? Sugar? Cream?” Me?

“I’m fine with it black,” Will told her. “Where should I put this?”

She looked over her shoulder to see he was now holding the laundry basket. Was any of her underwear in it, or just all those little pairs of briefs with cartoon animals or superheroes or race cars all over them? “Oh, anywhere,” she said lamely. “That shouldn’t have been there. I’m sorry. I don’t have guests very often.”

Will pulled the cookie jar to the center of the table and removed the lid, reaching inside to grab one of the cookies. “Don’t worry about it. You have two kids, and you have a full-time job. I may have a full-time job, but the rest of my life is my own. Do you have your own life, Elizabeth?”

The suddenness, the seriousness of the question, startled Elizabeth. “I’m very happy,” she answered, wondering if she sounded as defensive as she felt. She also realized that she hadn’t answered Will’s question.

So, obviously, did he. His eyes, his slight smile, both hinted to her that he did. But his next question really proved it.

“When was the last time you went out for dinner, Elizabeth? Not counting taking the boys someplace where you order by talking into a clown’s mouth or a dinner that could be served on a napkin at a ballpark?”

She couldn’t remember. Dear God, she couldn’t remember! “I don’t know. A while?”

“Okay. How about this one. Name the last movie you saw in a theater.”

Elizabeth wanted to get up, leave the room. Will was a lawyer, and he was interrogating her. But why? “It was … something the boys wanted to see. There was this prehistoric cartoon squirrel, and he was always chasing a—I don’t know. What difference does it make?”

“None, probably,” Will said, sitting back in his chair, the coffee mug—the one with a superhero dog stamped on the sides—clasped in both of his hands. “You’d never been to a baseball game until tonight. That was setting the bar pretty high. I didn’t want our next date to be a letdown. So dinner and a movie?”

She carefully set down her coffee mug, which was better than having the hot liquid splash all over her fingers because her hand was shaking. “Tonight was a date?”

“Technically, probably not. I thought we could try again, this time without the kids. Not that I don’t like them,” he added quickly. Too quickly?

“No, of course not. You were very good with them. Very … understanding. But I—I don’t date. I mean, I haven’t been on a date since before I was married, and I really don’t know how to—” She looked at him in appeal. “Could you help me out here? I’m being an idiot.”

“Happy to be of service. A date, Ms. Carstairs, consists of two people who wish to—”

“I know that part, smarty-pants,” she said, and then winced. Who called a grown man smarty-pants? Women whose usual verbal confrontations begin with “take your fingers out of your mouth, young man, and answer me,” that’s who. “How about I just say yes? I would love to go to dinner and a movie with you.”

“Terrific.” Will stood up at the same time she did, which brought them into rather close proximity to one another. “Tomorrow night?”

“I’ll need to arrange for a babysitter,” she said, not backing up because that would be so obvious. “I think Elsie wouldn’t mind. Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he said, looking at her with those marvelous eyes of his. “Do you like Italian?”

She nodded. “I love Italian, yes.”

He opened his mouth, hesitated. “Good. Italian it is.”

There was a tension between them Elizabeth knew someone could cut with the proverbial knife.

“Italian it is,” she repeated, taking a deep breath.

“You can pick the movie. As long as it isn’t a courtroom drama. I always want to start shouting at the screen when they get it wrong. I might embarrass you, not to mention getting us both thrown out.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll look for a comedy.”

“Good idea.” He stepped closer to her. “I’ll pick you up at six. We’ll eat first and then go to the late show.”

“Sounds … sounds like a plan.”

Would he just do something? Talk, not talk. Move, not move. Kiss her, not kiss her. Something!

“I had a very good time tonight, Elizabeth,” he told her.

“And that surprises you?”

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it in a most appealing way. “You figured that out?”

She nodded. “I just haven’t figured out why you invited us.”

His eyes shifted slightly, but then he looked at her as if he didn’t have a secret in the world. “You haven’t looked in a mirror lately?”

“Oh.” Well, there’s an answer that will go down in history! “I … I wasn’t fishing for compliments. But … but thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Will said, and then he moved even closer, and Elizabeth knew what was coming next. He was going to kiss her. She’d been out of the dating game for a lot of years, but she recognized a move when one was being put on her.

She lifted her face so that she could meet him halfway. If nothing else, curiosity was winning out.

“Mom? Mom! Can I get out of bed? I’m thirsty!”

Will stepped back. “I thought it would take fireworks to wake up those kids.”

“Or the sound of a pin dropping on cotton. They have an inner sense that tells them when I’ve just slipped into a bubble bath or I just picked up the phone to call my mother—that sort of thing. I don’t know how they do it, but they do it. I’m sorry, Will.”

“I should be going anyway,” he told her, heading for the door. “Practice is at nine tomorrow morning.”

“Mom!”

“Yes, I’ll … we’ll see you then. And we did have a wonderful time tonight.”

She closed the door behind him, fought the urge to lean herself up against the wood and sigh a girlish sigh and then headed for the cabinet to get Mikey a glass of water. No, she should make that two glasses of water, or Danny would be sure to ask for one. And then, with them both awake, they really needed to brush their teeth and get into their pajamas and …

She nearly dropped the glass when she heard the knock on the door.

“It’s only me, Elizabeth,” she heard Will call through the door.

“Uh … it’s open?”

He stepped inside, holding on to the pair of child booster seats. “I figured you might need these,” he said, putting them down on the table.

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and one other thing.”

Elizabeth gripped the glass tightly. Here it comes. He’s going to kiss me. What do I do if he kisses me? Close my mouth? Open my mouth? Fall on the floor in a dead faint?

Will walked past her to lift the lid on the cookie jar. “I thought I’d take one for the road,” he said, holding up a cookie like some sort of prize. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yes … see you tomorrow,” she echoed, lifting her hand to give him a small finger-wave.

This time, after the door closed, she counted to ten, waiting to hear his car move off down the drive.

Then she sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and laughed until Mikey padded into the room to remind her he was still thirsty.

Once back on the main road, Will used his hands-free cell phone to call his cousin. She answered after five rings, her voice sounding as if he’d woken her up. Good.

“Chessie, this isn’t going to work.”

“Wha … who—Will? What time is it?”

He shot a look at the dashboard clock. “Not quite midnight. And I mean it, Chessie. This isn’t going to work. I’m going to call it off.”

“You’re going to call what off? For God’s sake, Will, it’s midnight. Just because you can operate on less than eight hours’ sleep doesn’t mean the rest of us can. Call me back in the morn—Oh, wait. Um … does this have anything to do with Elizabeth? I thought you told me you were just taking the three of them to a ball game. Ah, man, Will, what did you do?”

“Nothing,” he told her, looking to his left before pulling out onto the highway. “I did nothing, I should do nothing, I am doing nothing. It was a stupid idea, Chessie. She’s not my type.”

“If you mean she isn’t cold and ambitious and only out for herself, then no, she isn’t.”

“Leave Kay out of this,” Will told her, concentrating more on his driving than he was on what Chessie was saying. Always a mistake.

“Aha! So you knew just who I meant, didn’t you?”

“Never mind that. I’m just telling you—”

“Never mind that? You wake me up in the middle of the night, and then don’t even give me a moment to gloat when I score a major hit? Hi, Will, this is Chessie—remember me? I gloat. I live to gloat.”

“Yeah, yeah, score one for Chessie. Can we get back to the reason I called, please? Because your plan is full of holes, Chess. There’s no such thing as just waking someone up. You have to figure out what to do with them once they’re awake.”

“You could be nice and hang up and call them again in the morning,” his cousin said. She then added quickly, “Okay, okay, I know you’re not talking about me. You’re talking about Elizabeth. What did you do, Will? Turn on all your boyish charm in one go?”

“This has nothing to do with me. I’m only saying that Elizabeth … that she’s …” How about that? Him, the silver-tongued lawyer, at a loss for words. “She could get hurt.”

He could hear Chessie getting out of bed. Well, either she’d thrown back the covers and gotten out of bed, or she had just levitated a good three feet above the mattress. “William Hollingswood … what … did … you … do?”

“Nothing. I didn’t do a single thing. All right, almost. I was going to kiss her good-night. Hell, it’s the natural end to an evening. But I didn’t. Chessie, I don’t think the woman’s been out on a date since her husband died. How do I say this and not have you crawl through the phone and murder me? Okay, I can’t. She’s ripe, Chess. Ripe for the plucking.”

“But you won’t … pluck. Right?”

Will closed his eyes for a moment. “No, I won’t. But she knew I wanted to. She’s a nice woman, Chess. A lady, a mom, for crying out loud.”

“Not your type.”

“God, no.”

“Did you want to kiss her? Or was this one of those, ‘oh, hell, we’re here, why not’ deals?”

“I don’t know,” Will said honestly. “What I do know is that Elizabeth is the forever type, and I’m not. On my own I never would have asked her out. So, since you’re the one who got me into this, how do I shut this thing down without hurting her?”

His cousin was silent for a few moments, and then surprised him. “There’s a thing? Really? You know, Will, it could just be that Elizabeth doesn’t find you all that captivating. Did you think about that one? Okay, so you took her out. One time. Do you really think you’ve now ruined her for all other men or something? God, that’s arrogant.”

“You’re right.” Will pulled into his own driveway and cut the engine. “It was one date. And not even a date, since we had the twins with us. It was just a friendly evening. I’m overreacting,” he said, sitting back in the bucket seat. “Of course I am. I’m being an ass, and I’m sorry. And I’ve already asked her out for tomorrow night. Why did I do that, Chessie?”

“Yes, you were, and I have no idea. Unless, of course, Elizabeth packs more of a punch than she thinks she does. Does she, Will? Is this phone call about you being worried about her or you being worried about yourself?”

“Go back to bed, Chess,” Will said, cutting the connection. And then he sat in his car for another five minutes, trying to answer his cousin’s question. “One more day. I’ll give it one more day,” he said at the end of those five minutes, and then he went inside, feeling he’d at least begun to back away … even if Elizabeth didn’t know that yet.




Chapter Five


Sam The Dog had somehow managed to wrap his leash around Elizabeth’s bare legs in the time it took to grab a folding lawn chair from the back of the SUV, and the boys were already halfway down the hill to the field by the time she could follow them.

She felt a small pang as she watched them so blithely desert her—and not only because they’d left their bats and mitts behind in the backseat. They were growing up. Sometimes it was as if they grew an inch or more overnight, and they didn’t seem to need her the way they once had … the way she’d always clung to them, probably too tightly, once Jamie was gone.

They’d just finished first grade, had been away from her for nearly seven hours a day. Now they were playing baseball. Tomorrow they’d be leaving for college.

“And now let’s all have a pity party for the overprotective mommy in the crowd,” Elizabeth grumbled as she struggled to hold on to chair, bats, gloves and Sam The Dog while navigating the slope down to the ball field. “Sam The Dog! Stop pulling on the leash!”

Her mother would have told her that she was attempting a “Lazy Man’s Load,” trying to carry too much at one time in order to save herself a trip back up the slope to her car, and that the exercise was doomed to end in failure. And her mother would, as usual, have been right.

The lawn chair slipped out from beneath her arm, cracking her hard on her ankle bone before it hit the grass. Her reaction was to reach down to grab her ankle, a move that dislodged the two bats tucked into the crook of her other arm. She made a quick, twisting grab for them, and that’s when it happened.

Sensing the slack on his leash, Sam The Dog made a break for it, heading straight onto the field and into the midst of the players standing huddled around the coaches.

It was like watching a bowling ball strike the pins, sending them scattering everywhere.

Sam The Dog, being a border collie, immediately began trying to herd all the children back to where they were, even while the coaches seemed to be attempting to shoo him off the field.

Elizabeth left everything where it had fallen and took off down the slope. “Sam The Dog! Sam The Dog, you come here this instant! Danny, grab his leash!”

Danny made a valiant stab at it but only ended up laid-out on his belly as Sam The Dog eluded him as he circled the children, urging them closer and closer to the pitcher’s mound.

She saw Will standing near the players’ bench, a clipboard against his chest, watching the excitement with an amused smile on his face. She hastened to where he stood, nearly breathless from running and shouting. Well, at least now she didn’t have to worry anymore about what she was going to say to him the next time she saw him.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she told him as Mikey finally managed to grab Sam The Dog’s leash. “He means well. He really does.”

“Mikey or the mutt?” Will asked her, his eyes still on the ball field. “He was herding them, wasn’t he? And with much more success than we’ve been having. Amazing. If we can find him a shirt that fits, we could make him the first-base coach. What’s his name? I heard you calling something, but I couldn’t catch it.”

“He’s Sam The Dog,” Elizabeth said, relieved that she and the dog weren’t going to be immediately ejected from the field.

Will turned his attention to her. “You’re kidding, right? And you call him that? Not Sam? Sam The Dog?”

“He’s Richard’s dog. Officially, he’s Samuel Thibold Devonshire, I think it is, but Richard thought that was too long, so now he’s Sam The Dog. I don’t know. It fits somehow.”

“True, I guess. But it’s so obvious. I mean, if you called him Sam The Deer that wouldn’t be so obvious. Sam The Donkey? Sam The Duck? Or, to make it simple, you could just call him STD.”

At this, Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. “STD? I don’t think so.”

Will smiled, covering his mouth with his hand. “Oh, right. That would seriously cut down his chances with the lady dogs, wouldn’t it?” He took two steps toward the field. “Mikey! No dogs on the field. Bring him over here.”

There were protests from the team, all of whom seemed to be almost as enthralled with Sam The Dog as he was with them.

“Come on, put some hustle into it. We’ve only got the field for another hour or so.”

Elizabeth took the leash from Mikey, telling him to get Danny and run back up the hill to get their equipment and her chair. “Once again, Will, I’m really sorry. But Richard is gone, and Sam The Dog looked so forlorn as I was leaving that I thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring him along.”

“Richard’s gone? Richard as in your boss—that Richard?” Will asked, as if that was the only thing he’d heard. “For how long?”

“We’re not sure. His publishing house keeps wanting to add new cities to his tour. A week, ten days—more? Why?”

“No reason,” Will said, taking Sam The Dog’s leash from her. “I think the pooch here will enjoy himself more if I tie him up next to the team bench. And I just thought that might mean you’re pretty much on vacation, with your boss gone.”

Elizabeth mentally, figuratively—please, Lord, not physically, because that he could see—backed up a pace. “I have a few things to do, routine things. But yes, I suppose you could say I’m on vacation.”

“Then you’ll be staying here in town, not going anywhere. Not taking the kids to the shore or anything?”

She shook her head. “No, I hadn’t planned on it. Why?”

He seemed to mentally pull himself up short. “No reason. It’s just that we need to field ten kids—we have four outfielders, cuts down on the coaches having to chase balls—and we only have fifteen on the team. I’ll be down two for a week when Jason and Drew Keglovitz leave on vacation. So … so it’s good to know that Mikey and Danny will be available. Sam The Dog, huh?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Sam The Dog. Right. Well, um, I should go find a place that’s out of the way and let you get back to work.”

“Okay, good. I’ll … I’ll see you after practice.”

She turned away, her eyes momentarily widening in a “what the heck was that all about?” way before she picked up her lawn chair and headed for the grassy area where other parents were congregated.

“Here, put your chair down next to mine,” one of the women, a striking redhead, said, motioning for Elizabeth to join her. “Cute dog. I’m Annie Lambert. My Todd is the one with the bright orange hair—no surprise there, right? Which little darling is yours?”

Elizabeth introduced herself as she unfolded her chair and sat down. “I’ve got two here, actually. Mikey and Danny. They’re twins.”

“Oh, how neat. Unless you’re the one up all night with them while they’re newborns, I guess. I swear, my Todd never slept through the night until he was three—years, not months. Where are they?” Annie asked, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked out over the ball field.

Thanks to her evening at the IronPigs game, Elizabeth was able to answer with some authority: “Danny’s standing at first base, and Mikey is at third.”

“Really? You have to mean the ones with those adorable blond curls sticking out from under their caps. I’m so sorry. I thought they were girls.” Annie pulled a comical face. “I was told there were a couple of girls on the team. Not that I don’t love curls, and I would hate to see them cut off. It’s bad enough their soft baby skin doesn’t stay that way. Todd’s got knees like sandpaper. He’s also got his hair shaved down to just about nothing for the summer, but that was his father’s idea. I think it’s great that your husband is letting you keep their curls this long. They grow up too fast as it is.”

“I’m a widow,” Elizabeth said, as if that excused the curls, which was ridiculous. The curls were probably ridiculous. Why hadn’t she realized that? But they were babies, her babies. And now they were growing up so fast. “They need haircuts, don’t they?”

Annie put her hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “Sweetie, you do what you want to do, and don’t listen to anyone else. They’re your kids. But, yeah, I’d say get them haircuts. Kids can be cruel.”

“They never told me about any problems in school,” Elizabeth said quietly. “But you’re right. My husband would have made sure the curls were gone by the time they were three or four. It’s just so difficult sometimes … letting them—Ohmigod!”

As she and Annie had been talking, Elizabeth was also watching the practice on the field. Will was throwing balls high into the air, and the fielders—they were called fielders—were running in to catch them. Trying to catch them. Watching the balls bounce and then chasing them.

It had been Danny’s turn, and he’d run in from left field just as the other players had done, opened his mouth wide just as the other players had done and held out his huge glove, just as the other players had done.

Except instead of catching the ball, or wildly swinging at the ball with his glove or watching the ball bounce and then chasing it … Danny had just stood there, and let the ball hit him on the top of his head. He immediately clapped both hands to his head and fell to the dirt, yelling, “Ow-ow-OW!”

“Steady, girl,” Annie said, swiftly grabbing Elizabeth’s arm as she half rose out of her chair. “The coaches will handle it. The last thing the kid needs is Mommy running out onto the field.”

“But he’s hurt.”

“It’s a rubber ball. Sort of. He’ll be fine. Besides,” Annie said as Elizabeth sat down once more, “he’s got all those curls to act as a cushion. There, see, he’s up and going back to the base to try again.”

“They should have been girls,” Elizabeth lamented. “I’d know what to do with girls. But I’m an only child. I don’t have a brother—or even any male cousins. I’m flying blind here, Annie. That was okay when they were younger. But now …?”

“Now you follow your instincts.”

“Really? My instinct was for me to go running down there onto the field, remember?”

“Right. You figure out what your instincts tell you, and then you do the opposite.”

Elizabeth laughed and then pointed to the field. “Look, he caught it this time! Yea, Danny!”

Her son heard her and looked up the hill and then smiled and waved.

“Okay, I feel better now. Anything else I should know?”

Annie shook her head. “No, now it’s my turn. How well do you know our hunky coach?”

“Will?” Elizabeth didn’t know how to answer that. “Uh … I only met him yesterday. Why?”

Annie leaned closer to her and spoke quietly. “Word is he’s quite a hit with the ladies, as my mother used to say. Handsome, rich—all that good stuff. But also the love them and leave them type.”

“Really,” Elizabeth said just as quietly, and a quick vision of Kay Quinlan popped into her mind.

“I’m just saying, you know? He’s not here because he loves coaching kids or anything. He’s here because otherwise he’d be in the lockup for talking back to some judge. He might be looking around, thinking there has to be a way he can have some fun, as long as he has to be here anyway. You’re young, you’re pretty, you’re available. And I saw the way he was looking at you earlier. I’m not insinuating anything here. Like I said, I’m just saying, you know?”

Elizabeth nodded, looking down the hill to where Will was now showing Mikey how to hold a bat. The man didn’t look as if he wished he could be somewhere else. He looked as if he was enjoying himself. He’d looked as if he’d enjoyed himself at the sporting goods store, at the pizza shop and at the ball game last night. But what did she know about how anything looked? “Thanks. Not that I think you’re right. But I’ll keep your warning in mind.”

“Hey, don’t do it for me. The man is a dreamboat. I’d say go for it.”

“You’re suggesting a fling, Annie? Is that it?”

“As someone who hasn’t flung in a long time? Yeah, I suppose I am. I’ll just live vicariously through you. And look—no, don’t look! But he was just looking up here, and he wasn’t looking at me.”

Elizabeth kept her head down, pretending to search for something in her purse. She looked, she hoped, calm, cool and completely collected. But inside she was already up and out of her chair—running for her life.

* * *

Elizabeth had already folded up her lawn chair and said goodbye to Annie after the two of them exchanged phone numbers and a promise to take all three boys for lunch after the Saturday-morning game.

Elizabeth knew she could count her friends on one hand, and even those she’d known in the apartment building where she’d lived until moving into Richard’s guesthouse had sort of faded away in the past ten months. In truth, her friends had been little more than the mothers of other children the twins played with in the park. Her life had been much too busy and much too lonely once Jamie got sick and after Jamie died.

Living at Richard’s estate had cut her off even more, she realized with a bit of a start. Other than phone conversations with his agent, publicists and others, her life had pretty much revolved around Richard; Elsie the housekeeper; Barry, the sixtyish man who took care of the grounds; and the twins.

Well, she was on a first-name basis with two of the checkers at the local supermarket. But that probably didn’t count.

So it was nice feeling connected to other women again, however tenuously. First Chessie at the bridal salon and now the bubbly Annie.

She was even developing a social life. Dinner and a movie with Will tonight; a planned dinner with Chessie and her manager, Eve D’Allesandro; and now talk of an outing with Annie and her family. She’d soon have to buy her own electronic day planner, she thought with a small smile.

Elizabeth watched from behind the bench as Will and the other coaches handed out some papers to the team and then reminded them that bats and bases and batting helmets didn’t pick themselves up and stuff themselves in the canvas equipment bags on their own.

Mikey, who didn’t seem to know there was a hamper in his closet, immediately raised his hand, volunteering to go bring in second base, and went running off to do just that. Danny was already sliding bats into a long canvas bag, without being asked.

“Way to show initiative, Curly,” one of the coaches said, rubbing Danny’s head as he passed by him.

Danny winced at the nickname, and so did Elizabeth.

Her cell phone began to vibrate in the pocket of her shorts. She put down the folding chair and pulled out her phone, looked at the displayed number, and then lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello, Richard,” she said, turning her back on the crowd of children and coaches—and Will—and walking a few feet away. “How was the interview? I taped it, but I had to get the boys to baseball practice, so I didn’t see it yet. I didn’t want to feel rushed when I—Oh, that’s wonderful!”

She listened, making what she hoped were intelligent comments at appropriate times, as Richard told her all about his interview and about the room-service breakfast that didn’t arrive, so that he had made a pig of himself in the green room and ended up going onto the set with powdered sugar on his tie.

“Speaking of pigs,” she said when Richard was done with his news, “the boys and I went to an IronPigs game last night.” She nodded as she turned around, pushing her hair out of her eyes as the breeze kicked up, watching Will lift two heavy canvas gear bags up and onto his shoulders as if they were stuffed with marshmallows. “No, it was fun,” she assured Richard, who seemed surprised at her news. “Richard? Do you think the boys need haircuts?”

She frowned at his answer. And then she tried to tell herself he wasn’t so uninvolved with the twins that he hadn’t really noticed their hair.

“That’s very polite of you, Richard, but surely you have an opinion. No … no reason you should. I just thought you would, that’s all. Well, tell me this, then. Do you think Mario would cut the boys’ hair?” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “How much? For both of them or just one of them? Each? You’re kidding! That’s … that’s just out of the question. No, I won’t have Mario put it on your tab. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll see what I can do. When’s your next interview?”

After warning her that he’d be flying to Chicago at seven that night and probably would be out of touch for the evening, Richard hung up—but only after reminding her to stay out of his office and consider herself on vacation until he returned.

She closed the phone, feeling suddenly lost, cut off and extremely uncomfortable at how easy it was that Richard hadn’t planned to call her again tonight.

And then, shockingly, following hard on the heels of her momentary unease, Elizabeth realized she also felt good. Very, very good.

Unencumbered. Or at least as unencumbered as the mother of two can ever feel.

And young. She felt young. There had been days, weeks—years—when she’d felt as old as time and just as weary and burdened.

But today? Ah, today the sun was shining. She’d made two new friends. She was on vacation for at least the next week, with nothing to do but be with her boys, to please herself, to remember that she wasn’t even thirty yet, let alone as old as time.

And a man had noticed her. Oh, certainly Richard had noticed her … noticed her as much as Richard noticed anything, bless his heart. But when Will looked at her she felt noticed. And young. And … yes … desirable.

He made her tingle. She would admit that to herself because there was no sense in pretending she hadn’t felt it. That awareness, that sure and certain knowledge that he was man and she was woman. Whether they knew each other well or not, chemistry was happening.

Elizabeth put her hands to her suddenly burning cheeks, and that’s when she realized she was smiling. Oh, what a naughty girl you are, she thought. How long has it been since you’ve been naughty?

“Elizabeth?”

She broke out of her thoughts when she heard Will call her name and saw that he had picked up her lawn chair, the twins standing on either side of him, holding all of their own gear.

“Oh, we’re ready to leave? Here, you have those bags. I can carry my own chair.”

“That’s all right. We’ll all heading in the same direction. Dan’s okay, by the way. Aren’t you, Dan The Man?”

“It was only a ball,” Danny grumbled. “But you’re still buying me a water ice, right?”

“Danny!”

Will grinned at her. “Bribery,” he explained. “When tears threaten, bribery is always an option. Do you mind?”

She looked at her watch. “I suppose a water ice wouldn’t ruin their lunch. But don’t you have to get to court or something?”

“No. Along with playing baseball coach, I’ve been barred from stepping foot in the courthouse for two weeks now that I wrapped up my last case on the docket. I only had a couple of pretrial things going on anyway, and they’ve been pushed back until next month, courtesy of The Hammer. Since I’m my own boss, I’ve juggled some appointments and decided that every hardworking lawyer needs a vacation now and then.”

“That’s nice. Richard always says that there are benefits and problems in being self-employed. The benefit is that you’re your own boss and can work when you want to, but the downside is that you’re your own boss and it doesn’t pay to coddle your employee.”

“I’d say Richard has a point. I’ve been known to beat myself up rather badly when I’m facing a trial deadline. I’ve often thought of reporting myself to authorities for not paying myself some pretty hefty overtime.”

They’d reached the parking lot, and Elizabeth hunted in her purse for her car keys, clicking on the button that opened the back hatch of her SUV. Will had done much the same thing with his Mercedes while the twins piled into her backseat and strapped themselves into their booster seats.

“Today I’ll just follow you,” she told him. “I want to take the boys to the mall after you pay off on your bribe, to see if I can find one of those walk-in hairdressers for them.”

Will cocked one well-defined eyebrow at her. “Heard that, did you?”

She shook her head. “Heard what? Oh, you mean how one of the coaches called Danny, Curly?”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “We’ll go with that one.”

“What? What did I miss?”

“Nothing. When the team was in line to get their handouts one of the boys called Mike, Mary. Mike didn’t notice, so I let it go. But I was going to try to figure out a way to tell you it might be time for the twins to lose the curls.”

“You were going to do that?”

He held up his hands as if in self-defense. “I know, I know. Butting in where I don’t belong. It’s just … it’s just that you don’t have anybody to help steer you through the waters on this stuff, as it were. I noticed, that’s all.”

Richard didn’t. The thought came to Elizabeth’s mind, and she guiltily shooed it away, telling herself that Richard was Richard, and it was all right that he didn’t notice things. Like the new dress she’d bought last week. Or the fact that she’d cut her hair.

“Elizabeth? Honest to God, I’m not trying to tell you how to raise your sons. God knows it’s none of my business. And you’d already decided to get them haircuts, right?”

“Annie—Todd’s mother—thought they were girls,” Elizabeth told him. “So, yes, I’d already decided. And their hair isn’t that long, is it?”

“No,” Will said quickly. “It’s the curls, and the being blond, I suppose. And they’re how old now, seven?”

They’re my babies. They’re all I have. “Yes, all of seven. But I refuse to shave their heads. I don’t care what other parents do. I’ve always trimmed their hair myself. Do you know of a good salon?”

“You don’t want a salon, Elizabeth. You want a barber. And, yes, I do. I think Sid gave me my first real haircut a million years ago. Well, over thirty years ago. And you know what, I have an idea.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Elizabeth felt that go-with-the-flow thing sneaking up on her again. “And am I going to like this idea?”

“Maybe not, but I think the boys will. See, I remember my first haircut. I remember the tickle of the electric trimmer on the back of my neck. I remember the oil Sid slicked over my hair. I remember the lollipop he gave me. And I remember my mother sitting on a chair over in the corner, crying because I didn’t look like her baby anymore.”

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip for a moment. “You’re thinking I might cry and make a fool of myself as those beautiful blond curls hit the barbershop floor.”

“Might? No, that’s probably pretty much a given. I’m thinking Mike and Dan will be embarrassed that their mother is crying. I know I was. So how’s this for a plan? I pay off my bribe to Dan, then I drop you at the mall and we plan to meet somewhere in about two hours—after Sid has done his thing.”

“Oh, I don’t—”

“It’s a guy thing, Elizabeth. A man thing.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, actually believing she could see Mikey and Danny smiling and waving as they flew away from her, flapping the little wings on their backs, going off into the big bad world without her.

“A man thing. I understand.” She looked up at Will’s open, smiling face. “And you’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”




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