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The Christmas Proposition
Cindy Kirk


To the tune of “Jingle Bells”Dashing through the snow A handsome stranger’s come to town. He’s a baseball star by trade But a broken engagement’s got him down. Derek Rossi’s sworn off love Till a nurse enters his life.Rachel Milligan’s heart is warm But relationships bring her strife. A widow for many years She can’t forget what came before. She knows Rossi is a risk But she can’t help wanting more…












Oh! Could Christmas love Be ‘round the bend For this lovelorn motley crew? A blossoming happy family Would make holiday dreams come true!


In less than two weeks he’d be gone … forever. There could be no happily-ever-after with this man.

And that was just fine with her.

Rachel waited until he shut the trunk, then she kissed him. Right out in the parking lot for anyone to see.

Surprise lit his eyes, even as a pleased smile lifted his lips. “What was that for?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“Absolutely not. But let’s go home. With Mickie not there,” Derek said, “it’ll be a good time to get her gifts wrapped.”

“If we have time. We might be too busy.”

“What else would we be doing?”

“No child in the house. The two of us alone.” She gazed at him through lowered lashes. “You do the math.”


Dear Reader,

Sometimes the idea for a book’s story line is so strong, the book practically writes itself. That was the case with In Love with John Doe, book two in the RX FOR LOVE miniseries. The Christmas Proposition took a little longer. When I first started writing it, I went in one direction then quickly realized I didn’t like that path. So, I reined myself in, made some changes and let the characters take control. I have to say, I never envisioned matchmaking kids or that Mary Karen and Travis would be such strong secondary characters. So strong, that I’m hoping my next book out will be their story.

Anyway, back to this book. I’m really pleased with how it turned out. It was a lot of fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Warmest regards,

Cindy Kirk




About the Author


CINDY KIRK has loved to read for as long as she can remember. In first grade she received an award for reading one hundred books. Growing up, summers were her favorite time of year. Nothing beat going to the library, then coming home and curling up in front of the window air conditioner with a good book. Often the novels she read would spur ideas, and she’d make up her own story (always with a happy ending). When she’d go to bed at night, instead of counting sheep, she’d make up more stories in her head. Since selling her first story to Mills & Boon in 1999, Cindy has been forced to juggle her love of reading with her passion for creating stories of her own … but she doesn’t mind. Writing for the Mills & Boon


Cherish™ series is a dream come true. She only hopes you have as much fun reading her books as she has writing them!

Cindy invites you to visit her website at www.cindykirk.com.




The Christmas Proposition


Cindy Kirk






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


To my editor, Patience Smith.

After all these years together,

wI still think you’re the best!




Chapter One


One of Derek Rossi’s earliest memories was throwing a Wiffle ball to his dad. Since that day he’d pitched in more baseball games in his thirty-two years than he could count. Surprisingly, he’d never been hit. Until today.

He didn’t even see the ball which dropped him to his knees. One minute he was talking with the coordinator of the Pitching and Catching Workshop, watching the boys and girls leave the Jackson Hole Indoor Sports Facility. The next, his head was pounding like a son of a gun. Derek blinked, trying to clear his suddenly blurred vision.

As if by magic a blond-haired blue-eyed angel appeared and knelt before him, her brows furrowed in concern. She smelled like vanilla and the bright lights in the gym gave her an ethereal glow. It didn’t seem right to be on his knees before such a creature. He tried to stand, but she grabbed his arm and held on tight.

“Sit down.” The warmth of her touch jolted him back to reality and told him this was no apparition. “I need to make sure you’re okay before you start moving around.”

The beating of the bass drum in his head nearly drowned out her words. Derek struggled to focus. “Are you a doctor?”

“Emergency room nurse.” She held up her left hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

He squinted and the hand came into focus. “Two.”

Her gaze met his and for a second he found himself floating, drowning in the azure depths … Until he became conscious of the noise—and the people—moving closer, encircling him, suffocating him.

The woman must have sensed his sudden distress because her voice rang out above the conversational din. “Everyone, back up.”

“Come on, folks, move along,” a man’s voice echoed. “He’ll be fine.”

The crowd dispersed and Derek’s panic subsided. Chatter turned to a distant hum. Ron Evans, one of the event’s coordinators, stepped in Derek’s field of vision. But the older man’s focus was on the nurse. “Do you think we should call an ambulance?”

“No ambulance,” Derek answered for her. The last thing he needed was more publicity. Besides, he felt okay. Or he would if his head would quit pounding.

“I don’t think an ambulance is necessary, Ron. But an ice pack and some Tylenol would be helpful.” The nurse’s lips lifted in a rueful smile. “I’m afraid I locked up the first-aid kit a little too quickly.”

“Coming right up,” Ron said, hurrying off.

Even as she reached into her purse and pulled out a penlight, the nurse’s attention didn’t waver from Derek’s face.

A light flashed in his left eye. He jerked back.

“Hold steady,” she said in a voice that was soothing yet brooked no argument.

He did as she asked and the light flashed again.

“Your pupils react well to the light,” she said in a professional tone he found reassuring. “How’s your vision?”

“Fuzzy but getting better.” He rubbed the spot just above his left temple. “My head sure hurts.”

“Ron should be back any second.” Even though the nurse’s expression remained composed, her gaze lingered on his head, on the knot that he could feel growing larger by the second. “Can you tell me who you are?”

He may have only been in Jackson Hole a short time, but there’d been lots of buzz about the baseball workshop he was holding this first weekend in December.

“I’m Derek Rossi,” he said, surprised she hadn’t recognized him.

As if she’d read his mind, her lips quirked upward. “I know who you are. I just needed to make sure you did.”

He wondered if she knew how lovely she looked when she smiled. Then he scoffed at the thought. Of course she did. She was a beautiful woman. They always knew stuff like that. Although she was married—he’d seen the diamond on her left hand—he found himself curious about his angel of mercy. “And who are you?”

“My name is Rachel Milligan.” She brushed a wayward strand of blond hair back from her face with a slender hand. “I’m an emergency room nurse at Jackson Hole Memorial. I was in charge of the first-aid station today. I’m afraid my little girl is the one who beaned you.”

“I didn’t mean to do it.”

The small voice came from his left. Ignoring the pain, Derek slowly turned his head in that direction. Rachel’s daughter stood off to the side, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other.

Rachel gave the girl a reassuring smile. “This is Mickie.”

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Rossi,” the child said, drawing closer.

Derek guessed the girl to be nine, maybe ten. She was thin but not undernourished. Her face was covered in freckles and her eyes, instead of being blue like her mother’s, were a vivid green, framed by thick brown lashes. But what Derek noticed most was her hair. It hung in long corkscrew curls halfway down her back. It was a tan color, not blond but not really brown either. She was cute, rather than pretty. He decided she must take after her father.

“I noticed a ball on the floor and I threw it to you.” By now the child had tears in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

Before Derek could respond, the event coordinator returned juggling a cup of water and Tylenol in one hand and an ice pack in the other.

“Thanks, Ron.” Derek swallowed the pills and pressed the ice bag gingerly against the side of his head.

Once that was done, he reflected on what the child had said, wondering if he’d heard correctly. The ball that had hit him had packed a wallop. Had it really been thrown by a girl?

“Do you forgive me?” By now tears were slipping down the girl’s cheeks.

“Mr. Rossi understands it was an accident.” The woman stared into his eyes. Her expression reminded him of a tigress protecting her young. “He’s not angry with you.”

Derek shrugged off Rachel’s hold and rose to his feet. She quickly followed, standing close, as if worried he’d fall. For a second that seemed possible, but thankfully the spinning room righted itself.

“I’m not angry,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

Mickie cocked her head, clearly puzzled.

Rachel’s jaw dropped. “Impressed?”

“Your kid has one mean throw.” He shifted his attention to the child. “How long have you been playing ball?”

Mickie blinked. “Never. I just came here today to help Rachel.”

“You call your mom Rachel?” Living in California, Derek knew lots of kids who called their parents by their first names. In fact, most of those moms and dads insisted on it. He just hadn’t expected that to be the case in Jackson Hole.

“Rachel is my foster mom.” The girl ducked her head and stared at her feet. “I’m just staying with her temporarily.”

An armful of bats hit the hardwood and Derek jumped. A knifelike pain sliced his head open. He inhaled sharply.

“You’re hurting.” Ron stepped closer, his eyes filled with concern. “I think we should get you to a doctor—”

“I’m fine.” Derek pressed the ice pack more firmly against his head and gestured to Rachel. “I have my own personal emergency room nurse.”

“They don’t come better than Rachel. She was on duty last year when they brought my son in.” For a second the older man’s eyes darkened, then he placed a fatherly hand on Derek’s shoulders. “If you’re still in pain next weekend, we can cancel your appointments.”

“No way.” Derek had made a commitment to do private lessons next Saturday and he honored his promises. Not to mention the proceeds were essential to Jackson Hole’s fledgling Big Brothers Big Sisters program.

“At least promise you’ll take care of yourself this week,” Ron pressed.

Derek knew some guys might have been irritated by Ron’s hovering. But the event coordinator had a big heart. Derek had seen that heart in the considerate way the gray-haired man had treated the kids and parents today.

“You got it,” Derek said.

“Good.” A look of relief crossed Ron’s face. He removed his hand from Derek’s shoulder and glanced at his watch.

“Go ahead and leave, Ron,” Rachel urged. “I’ll lock the doors.”

“Closing up is my responsibility, not yours,” Ron protested.

“Yes, but Amy Sue is expecting you at her piano recital. Your granddaughter will be disappointed if you don’t show.” Rachel’s tone turned persuasive. “Besides, it will give me more time to observe Mr. Rossi before I clear him to drive home.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Derek interrupted, annoyed at being discussed as if he wasn’t in the room. “A couple hours and I guarantee I’ll be good as new.”

“See, Ron?” Rachel said. “Derek thinks you should go to the recital, too.”

It wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but Derek wasn’t about to argue. Ron didn’t need to hang around because of him.

The older man thought for a moment, then nodded. “You’ve convinced me.”

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. For a second she’d thought the older man might insist on staying. But family was important to Ron. After losing his son in a motorcycle accident last year, he’d made his loved ones even more of a priority. Still, instead of immediately hightailing it for the exit, the event coordinator turned back to Derek.

While the two men talked, Rachel stayed silent, listening, amazed at Derek’s commitment to youth mentoring. It was a far cry from what she’d read and heard in the media recently. In fact, the tabloids had her believing the only thing Derek Rossi cared about was himself.

“Rachel, I’m hungry,” Mickie whined when Ron finally strolled off. “When are we going to eat?”

“I’m a little hungry myself,” Derek said.

Rachel turned. His eyes were blue, like hers. But while hers were just average run-of-the-mill blue, Derek’s reminded her of the color of the ocean off a Caribbean island.

They were the eyes of a man who’d left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Clean-shaven, with dark hair cut stylishly short, the former professional baseball player had a lean muscular build and a classic handsomeness that most women would find appealing.

She, on the other hand, preferred her men bigger, more rugged and bulky.

Like Tom.

Her heart gave a little ping.

“How about we all get something to eat?” Rachel said without thinking.

Derek’s gaze turned speculative. “What about your husband? Will he join us?”

“I’m not married. Not anymore.” Rachel spoke in the even tone she’d perfected the past three years. “My husband died.”

Confusion clouded his eyes. “But you’re wearing a wedding ring.”

Rachel glanced at her left hand. Should she try to explain? He wouldn’t get it. Even her friends didn’t understand. How could they? They’d never had a husband murdered. Never kissed their spouse goodbye and had a sheriff show up less than an hour later with devastating news. They hadn’t gone into early labor from the shock and been consumed by guilt because the baby, their long-awaited first child, had been too small to survive.

“Wearing it makes me feel like Tom is still with me, close by,” she said unapologetically. “It probably sounds crazy to you—”

“Not at all,” he said with such conviction that she almost believed him. “My father passed away from cancer when I was a little younger than Mickie. My mother wore her wedding ring until I was out of high school.”

The empathy in his voice took her by surprise. And oddly, it made Rachel feel better to know another young widow had also sought comfort in the familiar….

“I think Rachel likes pizza,” she heard Mickie say.

Rachel pulled her thoughts back to the present, wondering when the conversation had made the jump from rings to food. “Pizza is good.”

“Great. Let’s meet at Perfect Pizza.” Derek turned and headed toward the door.

“Wait.” Rachel hurried across the shiny hardwood after him, Mickie trailing behind her. “You shouldn’t drive. Not yet.”

He paused and turned. The hand holding the ice pack dropped to his side. “I told you, I’m fine. Once the Tylenol kicks in, I’ll be ready to pitch a no-hitter.”

Rachel couldn’t keep her eyes off the large hematoma on the side of his head. This was her fault. She should have watched Mickie more closely, made sure the child didn’t throw a ball to someone who wasn’t looking.

“It’s not your fault,” he said softly as if he could read her mind. “Or anyone’s fault. That’s why they call ‘em accidents.”

He seemed quite sincere. Gracious as well as handsome. It was a potent combination. Rachel could see why women liked him.

“Seriously,” he said. “I’m more than capable of driving myself.”

The easy thing would be for her to agree. After all, he’d probably be okay. But then again, he’d taken a hard hit. He’d been confused and unsteady. No, she couldn’t in good conscience let him get behind the wheel. Not yet, anyway.

“How about you humor me and ride with us over to the restaurant,” she said. “Depending on how you’re doing after we eat, you can either drive yourself home or I can drop you off.”

Derek’s quicksilver grin flashed. “You are bound and determined to get me in your car.”

Although her heart skipped a beat, Rachel ignored the charm this guy seemed to have in abundance.

“I’m not going to let this drop.” She resisted an unexpected urge to banter. “I don’t want anything to happen to you on my watch.”

His lips twitched. “Your watch?”

“Say yes,” Mickie said, finally speaking up. “I want to eat.”

Derek thought for a moment, then nodded, shifting his gaze to Rachel. “Ms. Milligan, you’ve got yourself a date.”

A date? All she’d done was offer to drive him for pizza. Because they were hungry. Not because she wanted to get to know him better like you would if you were … dating … someone.

Rachel opened her mouth, then shut it. There was no point in getting hung up on semantics. They both knew it wasn’t a date. After all, if the guy once voted “The Sexiest Player in the Major Leagues” was going to jump back into the dating game after his engagement scandal, it wouldn’t be with her.




Chapter Two


Even though it was only five o’clock, Perfect Pizza was surprisingly busy. But Derek quickly located an empty table in the center of the small dining area.

He pulled out chairs for Mickie and Rachel, then took a seat opposite the two. After he was sure they were settled in, he snagged menus from the holder on the table and handed them each one. “What kind of pizza do you like?”

Mickie didn’t even look at the menu in her hand. “Whatever you want is okay with me.”

He’d noticed the child had done that a lot on the drive from the gym, refusing to offer an opinion, waiting to answer as if wanting to make sure her response was right. She was an odd bundle of energy and insecurity.

Derek fought the impulse to tease and lost. He’d grown up with a younger sister and Mickie reminded him of Sarah.

“How about anchovies, cream cheese and pineapple?” It was all Derek could do to keep a straight face at the look of horror that stole over the young girl’s face.

“I think we’ll pass on that combination.” A tiny smile lifted the corners of Rachel’s lips. She glanced at the menu and scooted closer to Mickie. “We can negotiate on the pineapple and cream cheese, but anchovies are definitely out. Right, Mickie?”

The child cast a look at Derek. What she saw must have reassured her because she nodded decisively and swiped the air with one hand. “Anchovies aaaaare out.”

She sounded so much like an umpire that Derek had to laugh. After some friendly banter, they decided on a hamburger pizza with extra cheese. Rachel wanted him to stay at the table and rest, but he insisted on going to the counter to order.

While waiting in line, he glanced back at the table. Mickie was chattering on about something and Rachel gave the child her full attention. There was a look in the nurse’s eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. Sadness, yes. But also a longing that took his breath away.

This was a woman who obviously loved children. While her husband’s death must have temporarily put an end to the dream of children of her own, he had no doubt kids were in her future. She was pretty and smart and personable. He was surprised she hadn’t already remarried and started a family. Of course, wearing a wedding ring probably kept the decent men away.

Derek wondered if she’d consider him a decent guy. He certainly did his best to treat every woman with respect. That wasn’t always the norm in today’s society. Lots of men out there had no scruples. Lots of women, too. An image of his former fiancée flashed before him. He clenched his jaw and focused on the menu board.

After ordering, Derek returned to the table with a pitcher of soda and three glasses filled with ice. “They’ll bring out the pizza when it’s ready.”

In less than fifteen minutes a large golden brown pie oozing cheese appeared. After wolfing down three big pieces, Mickie spotted an old pinball machine in an alcove just off the dining room. Her eyes lit up. She smiled, showing a mouthful of big teeth.

“Want to check it out?” Derek asked.

The girl’s smile faded. She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “I don’t know how to play.”

He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll show you.”

After several pointers on how to best keep the silver ball in play, Derek gave her a handful of quarters and returned to the table. “She’s a natural.”

They chatted for a minute or two about Mickie and pinball machines before the conversation petered out. Rachel put down her second slice of pizza and sought for a comment to fill the lengthening silence. It had been easy to make conversation while Mickie was at the table, but now …

“Did you hear we have a seventy-percent chance of snow tomorrow?” Rachel asked.

Derek groaned out loud. “Please, no more about the weather or the bump on my head. We’ve talked those topics to death.”

He was probably right. Perhaps she’d tried a little too hard to keep the conversation general. But when those brilliant blue eyes focused on her as if no one else in the world existed but the two of them, she felt as unsure as a fifteen-year-old on her first date.

Rachel placed her glass of soda on the wooden table with an unsteady hand. The man across from her had been to movie premieres. Partied with the beautiful people. And, according to the media, walked away from three engagements.

She glanced longingly at the door, wondering how she’d ever thought this was a good idea. Right now she could be at home in her PJs playing Scrabble with Mickie. Oh, Derek was nice. But she didn’t like how he made her feel, all jittery and unsettled inside. “I’m a little nervous.”

Derek lowered the glass he’d raised to his lips without drinking and Rachel wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

Disappointment filled his baby blues. “Which tabloids have you read?”

Rachel realized immediately that he’d misunderstood her comment. But the last thing she wanted was to discuss his troubles or her attraction to him. So instead, Rachel focused on the Derek Rossi she’d followed in the sports pages for almost a decade. “This will probably surprise you, but you and I go way back. I remember watching you pitch a no-hitter in the college world series. You were amazing. I followed your career after you were drafted by the Angels. Now it seems like every time I watch a sportscast, there you are with a microphone and an expert opinion.”

His lips curved upward and Rachel, who’d planned to say even more, clamped her mouth shut. Dear God, what must he think? She’d been gushing like an out-of-control fan-girl.

“What have you heard recently?” he asked.

“I haven’t been following your exploits in the tabloids,” Rachel said. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

“Still, I’m sure you’ve heard all about Niki and me.”

She’d have had to be living in a cave not to have heard the news of his broken engagement to the young actress he’d been planning to marry last month, just before Thanksgiving.

She’d been disappointed that he would make such an important commitment, then walk away. Not just once, but three times. Still, it wasn’t her place to judge. And she firmly believed it was better to walk away than say your vows to the wrong person. “Who you choose to marry, or not, is your own business.”

The tiny lines of strain around Derek’s eyes eased at her matter-of-fact tone. “No questions? No, how could you break it off only two weeks before the wedding?”

Would he tell her the truth if she asked? Rachel tamped down her curiosity. “Not my business. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“Thank you.”

“But I am curious about one thing.”

A resigned look crossed his face. “What’s that?”

“How long do you plan to stay in Jackson Hole?”

A look of surprise skittered across his face. “That’s the question?”

Rachel smiled.

“Not quite a month.” Derek leaned back in his chair. “My buddy gave me the use of his vacation home just outside of Wilson until New Year’s. Then I’ll head back to L.A.”

“Is that home?”

“For now.” He took a sip of soda. “I’m originally from Minnesota. Most of my family still lives there.”

Rachel relaxed against the back of her chair, enjoying the conversation. “I’m surprised you’re not spending Christmas with them.”

“If I’d married Niki, we’d still be on our honeymoon.” His eyes took on a faraway look. Then he blinked and the moment was gone. “My sister and her family are spending the holidays with my brother-in-law’s side of the family. My mother and Jim, her ‘man-friend,’ are in Florida visiting my aunt and uncle.”

“I don’t understand how you ended up in Wyoming.”

“Great place to stay. Lots of good skiing. Best of all, no paparazzi.” Derek grinned. “Feels like paradise to me.”

Rachel picked up her half-eaten piece of pizza and took another bite, suddenly hungry.

“I’ve a question for you,” he said.

Rachel forced the chunk of pizza past a sudden thickness in her throat. “Ask away.”

“I’ve thought about doing foster care, but my schedule seems too chaotic to give a child the stability he or she needs.” His eyes were bright with curiosity. “How do you make it work?”

Rachel leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. Here was a topic she could discuss for hours. “I’ve had my license for a couple years. While a full-time placement wouldn’t work with my schedule, I’ve done quite a bit of emergency foster care.”

Although his eyes remained focused on her, he trailed a finger down the side of his glass. “Tell me more about that.”

Rachel’s mouth went dry. She swallowed, her heart fluttering in her throat. “An emergency placement can last anywhere from twenty-four hours to a month. Most kids I have for a day or two.”

“How long will Mickie be with you?”

“Through the end of the month.” Rachel shifted her gaze and let it linger on Mickie. Fingers on the side buttons, brows furrowed in concentration, her entire attention was on the game. It was typical Mickie. Her determined nature was only one of her many good qualities. Although the child hadn’t even been under Rachel’s roof a week, she’d already stolen her heart.

“Looks like she’s made some friends.”

Derek was right. The little girl had several new “friends” peering over her shoulders, watching her make the bells ding.

“Mickie is very social.”

Derek could hear the pride in Rachel’s voice. “What do you know about her history?”

Rachel thought for a moment. “I know her parents died in a car accident when she was five. After that she was sent to live with an aunt and uncle and four cousins. Several years later they divorced and relinquished Mickie, saying neither of them could afford to keep her.”

Rachel’s voice quivered. It had been hard losing her own parents when she’d been in college. But at least they’d been there while she was growing up and she had all those wonderful memories. Mickie had confided she barely remembered hers. And then to be turned out by the only family she had left …

Derek’s eyes remained firmly fixed on her face. “What happened then?”

“Up until recently she’s been living with a retired couple. Unfortunately their daughter has a chronic health condition that has worsened. They left for Arizona to be with her. According to the social worker they aren’t planning to come back.”

Rachel placed her glass of soda on the table and tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She’d had men stare at her before, but when Derek gave her his full attention, it was overwhelming.

“What’s going to happen to her once she leaves your place?” Derek asked, sounding truly concerned.

“The social worker told me they hope to have another home for her after the first of the year. If that doesn’t pan out, she’ll live in a group setting until one opens up.”

Most people got a glazed look in their eyes when she talked about her foster kids. Not Derek. “I still don’t understand how you can watch her and work full-time.”

“I’m not working while she’s with me,” Rachel explained. “I had enough hours built up to take off the rest of the year.”

His head cocked to one side. “You’re taking vacation time to watch her?”

He made it sound as if she was making a big sacrifice when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“I don’t have family here. My friends are understandably busy during the holidays with their husbands and children.” Rachel lifted a shoulder in what she hoped was a casual shrug. “I find this time of year goes better for me if I keep busy. I love children, so having Mickie with me is the best way I can think of to spend my vacation. Trust me, it’s a win-win situation for both of us.”

Her eyes were clear and blue, her tone sincere. Even more revealing, she acted as if what she’d done was no big deal. Derek found himself not only impressed, but intrigued. Here was a woman he’d like to know better.

But he’d sworn off dating for the next six months. And no matter how lovely the woman, or how tempted he was to ask her out, there was no way he was breaking that pledge.




Chapter Three


Derek pulled the Escalade to the curb in front of a white clapboard house with green awnings. He turned off the engine. Although the sun had already gone down, and the moon wasn’t particularly bright, the streetlight gave him a good view of the place. The home sat on a corner lot with big trees and a wide expanse of grass now covered with a thick blanket of snow. Lace curtains hung in front of the window and he could see people walking around inside, talking and laughing.

He turned off the engine but made no move to get out of the vehicle. Derek wasn’t sure why he was here other than he was tired of his own company. After Rachel had dropped him off last Saturday night, he’d been mostly hanging out with, well, himself.

For several days he’d laid low, resting and keeping ice on the bump that had stuck out like a goose egg from his left temple. When she’d said goodbye, Rachel had handed him her phone number and told him to call if he had any questions. He’d reciprocated and given her his number. But she hadn’t called. Neither had he.

Although he’d kept his phone close all weekend, Derek told himself he was relieved she hadn’t contacted him. Not because he didn’t like her, but because he did. Any other time he’d have asked her out on the spot. But this wasn’t any other time. He’d just gotten out of a relationship that had taken him to the mat emotionally.

On his way to Jackson Hole he’d decided to take the next six months off from dating. He’d use the time to regroup, assess where he’d gone wrong and come up with a game plan for the future. That needed to be done before he jumped back into the dating pool.

Derek shoved the truck door open and stepped outside. That was why tonight was so perfect. Travis Fisher, a local he’d met while skiing at Jackson Hole today, had invited him to watch some college football bowl action with a group of his buddies. Travis had warned Derek that most of the guys were family men, so there’d be wives and kids present.

That didn’t bother Derek. He was ready to get out of the house, but wasn’t interested in hooking up. Football on the big screen, a couple of beers with the guys was all he was looking for this evening.

“Hey, Rach, could you get the appetizers out of the oven for me?” Mary Karen Vaughn appeared slightly frazzled as she grabbed a bag of chips from the cupboard.

“Absolutely,” Rachel said in a cheerful tone, eager to be of help, happy she’d accepted Mary Karen’s invitation. She’d been so busy lately that she hadn’t seen much of her friends.

There had been a few awkward moments initially. Like when Lexi Delacorte had asked if Derek Rossi was really as hot in person as he was on the television screen. The gleam in those amber eyes told Rachel her friend hoped the brief encounter with the sexy former baseball player had made her forget Tom. What Lexi didn’t understand was that Rachel would never, could never, forget her husband.

The shy geologist she’d married just out of college may have been burly and taciturn on the outside, but he’d been sweet and sensitive inside. Her gentle giant. He’d been a fabulous husband. She had no doubt he’d have made a wonderful father …

A familiar pain stabbed her heart. No, it would be nearly impossible to find a man as good as Tom, which was why she hadn’t even tried.

At least this holiday season she wouldn’t need to worry about well-meaning friends trying to set her up. Normally, several times over Christmas there was someone’s friend, cousin, uncle, coworker who was just dying to meet her.

This year all she had to concern herself with was making this the best Christmas ever for Mickie. Rachel’s lips curved upward as she shut off the oven alarm, put on the bulky mitt and pulled out a baking sheet filled with the tiny almond-bacon cheese crostini she’d whipped up that morning. Reveling in the warmth against her face, Rachel inhaled the delicious aromas now flooding the kitchen.

“I should have made sure there wasn’t a single college bowl game on television before I set the date for this party,” Mary Karen grumbled and slanted a glance at the men congregated in her living room.

“I like football.” July Wahl added Fritos to an empty bowl and handed it to Mary Karen’s five-year-old son, Connor. “But I don’t really care who wins the Rotten Apple Bowl or whatever it is that’s on TV tonight.”

Rachel laughed. Mary Karen had thought her party was safe with a second-tier bowl on the tube. She’d quickly discovered otherwise.

“It could be called the Prune Bowl and my husband’s eyes would still be glued to the screen.” With dark hair that stopped just short of being black and amber eyes the color of topaz, Lexi Delacorte was the most beautiful of Rachel’s friends. And the hospital social worker was as lovely on the inside as she was on the outside. “My Nick is a football fanatic.”

A possessive pride filled Lexi’s voice.

“I still can’t believe you fell in love with a man who didn’t know his own name.” Mary Karen handed July a sheet of cheese sticks to put in the oven.

“I didn’t need to know his name or that he loved football to recognize he was someone special.” Lexi’s eyes turned dreamy. “Or to fall hard for him.”

“Two weddings in less than a year.” July closed the oven door and straightened. Her speculative gaze settled on Mary Karen and Rachel. “You realize good things come in threes. That means one of you is next.”

Rachel held up both hands, palms out, and shook her head.

Mary Karen laughed uproariously. “I have three little boys to raise,” she said when she could finally speak. “I don’t need a fourth.”

July chuckled, then fixed her gaze on Rachel. “Come on, Rach. Can’t I interest you in a husband?”

“No husband for me.” This was a discussion Rachel had had with her friends many times. Whenever they brought up the subject, she usually just laughed it off … or changed the subject. “But I will take a glass of wine.”

Mary Karen lifted a half-empty bottle of merlot from the counter just as the doorbell rang. She paused, the bottle hovering over the glass. A frown furrowed her brows. “I wonder who that could be?”

“I’ll go see.” Rachel pulled off the bulky mitt and tossed it on the counter. “Just don’t let anyone near my wine.”

Rachel hurried past the living room full of cheering men and the family room where the kids sat watching a video. She waved at Mickie, wondering who else was coming. Although now that she thought about it, upon arrival Travis had mentioned something to her about inviting a guy he’d met skiing today. Pasting a smile of welcome on her face, Rachel opened the door.

She froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Standing on the porch was the last person she expected to see tonight. “Derek. Hello. It’s … uh … good to see you.”

Rachel couldn’t stop the pleasure that sluiced through her at the sight of the man who’d consumed her thoughts the past five days. She told herself she was so happy because she’d been worried about him and was relieved to see him looking so … fabulous. Instead of being clouded with pain, his eyes were a clear blue. A slight bruising at his left temple seemed to be the only residual from the accident last week.

Yes, she was very happy he’d recovered so completely. Last weekend she’d picked up the phone five or six times to find out how he was doing. But each time she’d clicked off without placing the call, worried that after her fan-girl ramblings, he’d misinterpret the reason for the follow-up.

“This is a pleasant surprise.” Derek’s gaze slowly surveyed her from head to toe.

Rachel shivered. She reassured herself that the response had nothing to do with the heat in his eyes. It was simply because of the frigid temperatures. As if to further substantiate her explanation, the wind gusted, dusting his hair with white flakes and almost pulling the door from her hands.

“Come in, please.” Rachel stepped back and motioned him inside. “It’s freezing out there.”

The second he was in the house, Rachel shut the door behind him. “I’ve wondered how you were doing.”

“All you needed to do was call,” he said in a teasing tone, his gaze never leaving her face. “You had my number.”

Rachel wiped her sweaty palms against her jeans, battling unexpected butterflies. She smiled sweetly. “And you had mine.”

“Touché.” He chuckled and rocked back on his heels. “Well, it appears that despite our mutual lack of effort, our paths were meant to cross again.”

“Looks that way.” Suddenly Rachel was glad she’d chosen to wear her favorite blue sweater tonight, the one that matched her eyes. It gave her extra confidence to see the appreciation in Derek’s gaze.

“Travis Fisher invited me.” Derek glanced around as if expecting the man to materialize. Instead, a loud roar sounded from the living room. “Does he live here?”

Rachel could barely hear the question over the cheering in the other room.

“No, but you’re at the right place,” she said once the noise died down. Rachel gestured toward the living room. “Travis and the other guys are in there. Before you join them, let me take your coat.”

Derek shrugged out of his jacket and handed it over, his hand brushing hers. His eyes darkened for a second as if he’d felt the same spark that shot up her arm.

Static electricity, she told herself. Simple static electricity.

“Is this your house?” His expression gave nothing away. It was almost as if they were polite strangers, which was what they were … right?

She clutched his coat tight against her. Still warm from the heat of his body, it retained the spicy scent of his cologne. “The house belongs to a friend of mine, Mary Karen Vaughn. She and Travis go way back.”

“Do they live here together?”

Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, my goodness, no.”

Everyone knew Mary Karen and Travis were tight. But living under the same roof with three small boys was a Travis impossibility.

“Derek, my man.”

Travis’s deep voice sounded behind her. “Glad you could make it. Looks like you and Rachel are getting acquainted.”

Derek smiled, relieved to see the man who’d invited him. And even more relieved to know Travis and Rachel weren’t involved. “Actually, Rachel and I crossed paths last weekend at the Pitching and Catching Workshop.”

“Really?” Travis turned to Rachel with a questioning glance. “I didn’t know you liked base— Oof.”

A small boy who looked to be about five years old slammed into Travis’s side. A second boy who was the spitting image of the first—with the same mop of blond curls—immediately appeared. If not for the devilish gleam in their eyes, the two might have been mistaken for little angels.

“Mom needs your help,” the one who’d done the initial body slam said to Travis.

The second boy shoved his twin hard, almost knocking him off his feet. “She told me to ask him.”

“Enough.” Derek stared in amazement as Travis grabbed both boys by the shoulder with firm hands and turned them around to face him.

“These two hellions are Connor and Caleb Vaughn.” Travis’s gaze shifted and his lips curved up in a smile. “That beautiful creature headed our way is their mother—and our hostess for the evening—Mary Karen.”

The young woman looked more like a college student than a mother. Her blond hair was a little lighter than Rachel’s and eyes weren’t quite as blue. While her smile was warm and friendly, her eyes had a decidedly curious gleam. She held out her hand.

“Welcome. I’m Mary Karen Vaughn.”

“Derek Rossi.”

Her expression brightened. “You’re the guy Mickie hit with a baseball.”

“The girl has a wicked throw,” Derek said, his smile widening at the memory. “But Rachel patched me up good as new.”

Okay, so it was a bit of an exaggeration, but the pretty nurse had come to his rescue. And Derek had no doubt if there had been patching up to do, the woman standing to his right would have taken care of him.

During the five days since he’d last seen her, Derek had told himself she couldn’t be nearly as beautiful as he remembered. But when she’d opened the door, he realized he’d been wrong. The blue of her sweater brought out the color of her eyes and her hair wasn’t just blond, it was golden honey.

“Rachel is the best.” Travis looped an arm around her shoulders.

Derek stiffened at the familiarity between the two. Had Rachel minimized her relationship with Travis? But he was almost certain Travis had also said he wasn’t in a relationship. And where did Mary Karen fit into the picture?

“I wish I had a hundred Rachels,” Travis added.

“Thank you for the compliment, Dr. Fisher.” Rachel brought a finger to her lips, her eyes dancing. “But I think I’ve heard you give that same compliment to a dozen nurses in the past month.”

“That’s Travis.” Mary Karen chuckled. “He’s nothing if not consistent.”

Derek felt the tension leave his shoulders at the warmth in her voice. Yes, there was definitely something going on with Travis. But whatever it was, it was between Mary Karen and the doctor.

Doctor?

Derek settled his gaze on Travis. “You’re a physician?”

Travis tightened his grip on the squirming twins who were desperately trying to break free. “Yep. OB-GYN. It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Mary Karen said. “He loves the adoration.”

“Mary Karen.” A feminine voice rang out from the kitchen. “Could you come here, please?”

“Be right there,” Mary Karen called out. She turned to go, then paused and refocused her attention on Derek. “Can I get you a beer? Or some wine?”

“A beer sounds good,” Derek said. “I can get it myself if you just point me in the right direction.”

Mary Karen smiled. “No worries. I can bring it to you.”

“Connor said you needed me for something,” Travis said before she walked away.

“It can wait,” Mary Karen said with an airy wave. “Why don’t you introduce Derek around?”

“After I drop his coat off in the bedroom, I’ll start the sloppy joes.” Rachel hugged Derek’s jacket close and made her way to Mary Karen’s bedroom at the back of the house, an extra spring in her step. Before Derek arrived she’d been having a perfectly fine time. But something about the former ball player brightened the cold winter night.

It had to be his smile. Derek Rossi loved life and it showed. Who wouldn’t be drawn to a guy like that?

Rachel skidded to a stop. She wasn’t attracted to Derek … was she? The woodsy scent of his cologne teased her nostrils and she realized not only did he look good, he smelled wonderful.

Not fair. Not fair at all.

Pressing her lips together, Rachel marched to the bed and threw his jacket on top of the other coats.

“He means nothing to me,” she muttered.

“Are you okay?”

Rachel whirled. “Derek, what are you doing here? I mean, here, in the bedroom.”

Even though her heart skipped rope in her chest, she relaxed her shoulders, determined to act casually. She only hoped the fire heating her cheeks didn’t show.

Thankfully, he didn’t appear to notice. He merely gestured to the bed with one hand. “I left my cell in my coat pocket.”

Reaching past her, he retrieved the tiny phone and dropped it into his pocket. When he turned back, he was. Right. There. The large room suddenly seemed much too small.

“You look lovely tonight,” he said.

A nervous chuckle slipped past Rachel’s lips.

“I’m serious.” His gaze darkened and the laughter died in her throat.

He was a mere heartbeat away and, without warning, Rachel found herself drowning in the deep blue of his eyes. She realized for the first time that there were tiny flecks of gold in the aquamarine depths. “You have beautiful eyes.”

“So do you,” he whispered.

Rachel wasn’t sure who made the first move, but a second later she found herself ensconced in Derek’s arms … and she was kissing him.

The first few kisses were gentle ones, her mouth lightly brushing his. But that wasn’t enough. She slid her fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth more tightly against hers. Although she hadn’t kissed a man since Tom died, it felt so natural to be kissing Derek.

His tongue swept across her lips and she’d just opened her mouth to him when the door Derek had kicked shut flew open.

“The sloppy joes are—” Mary Karen stopped.

Rachel jerked out of Derek’s arms.

“Derek came to get his cell phone.” Her heart pounded and her breath came out in little puffs. “We got to talking and lost track of time.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Mary Karen’s lips. “I can have Lexi help me make the sloppy joes if you and Derek want to … talk some more.”

Rachel kept her eyes focused on Mary Karen, trying to ignore the testosterone coming off Derek in waves. “We’re done … talking.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather stay here?” An impish smile lifted Mary Karen’s lips. “You didn’t look ready to conclude your conversation.”

In that moment Rachel could see why David Wahl had accused his sister of making his life a living hell when they were growing up.

“I should get back and see how the game is going.” Derek’s gaze lingered on Rachel for several heartbeats before he finally left.

Mary Karen showed great restraint in remaining silent until Derek was out of earshot before she squealed, “Ohmigod, you were practically doing it with the sexiest man in the major leagues.”

“He’s no longer playing ball.” Rachel smoothed her hair with fingers that trembled slightly. “And may I point out, we were merely kissing.”

“And may I point out that given a few minutes more, your clothes would have been on the floor.”

Never. Kissing another man was bad enough. Making love would be unforgivable. Rachel crossed her arms. “You’re wrong. I would never betray Tom like that.”

Mary Karen’s teasing smile faded. She placed a hand on Rachel’s arm. “Honey, Tom is gone. You’re still alive.”

Rachel blinked back tears, appalled that not only had she kissed Derek, but she’d also liked it.

Mary Karen moved close, her blue eyes serious. “You deserve some happiness and I think this man may just be the one to give it to you. Think of him … as an early Christmas present. Unwrap him. Play with him. But most of all enjoy him. Something tells me he could give you some very pleasant memories.”

Although Rachel had no doubt of that, she wasn’t even tempted. Okay, maybe just a little. But while she liked Derek, her heart belonged to Tom. That was why this was one present that was going to stay wrapped.




Chapter Four


Mickie leaned back against the overstuffed sofa with a contented sigh. If Rachel hadn’t agreed to take her in, she’d be spending the holidays in a group home. Instead she was here, surrounded by new friends.

She liked Mary Karen’s house. Everything about it felt like a home. From the skinny Christmas tree decorated with strings of popcorn and dried cranberries to the tiny toy cars and plastic soldiers on the floor. When Mickie had first walked through the door she’d been a little scared. But then Addie, Lexi’s daughter, had arrived with her family. They’d become instant friends.

“How long will you be staying with Rachel?” eight-year-old Addie asked.

“Until New Year’s Day.” Although she and Addie had lost interest in the movie after the first five minutes, the twins were still watching the DVD, so Mickie kept her voice low.

“That soon?” Addie’s face fell. “I wish you were staying longer.”

A familiar tightness gripped Mickie’s heart. “I wish I could, too. Rachel is super nice.”

In many ways the nurse reminded Mickie of her mother. Although she couldn’t recall her mother’s face, she remembered how she’d felt when her mom was alive. Safe. Loved. She felt that same way when she was with Rachel.

Addie twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger. “Maybe she could adopt you. Then you could stay.”

As much as Mickie wished and prayed that would happen, it didn’t seem likely. “Rachel said she’d like to keep me, but she works at the hospital and she’s always gone.”

“My mom works at the hospital,” Addie said, a puzzled look on her face. “Up until she married Nick she had two jobs.”

“Then it’s an excuse.” Tears pushed against the back of Mickie’s lids. “She probably doesn’t want me and is just saying she doesn’t have enough time.”

“Or maybe …” Addie’s amber eyes lit up like a Christmas tree “… she thinks you need both a mom and a dad.”

Mickie chewed on her lower lip. Rachel had told her more than once that she was sure there was a mommy and daddy out there for her somewhere. She hadn’t just said a mommy. She’d said a mommy and a daddy. “You may be right. But while I’d like a dad, I really want Rachel to be my mom.”

Addie’s brows furrowed. “We have to find her a husband, like Nick. Only she can’t have Nick because my mommy loves him. I love him, too.”

Mickie fought back a pang of envy. “Rachel doesn’t even have a boyfriend. And I’m leaving in three weeks.”

“That’s plenty of time,” Addie said with a sureness that buoyed Mickie’s spirits. “When my mommy met my stepdad, it only took a few days for them to be in love.”

“Really?” If it took Addie’s mother only a few days, surely Rachel could find someone in three weeks.

Addie’s eyes took on a determined gleam. “We have to find a man who doesn’t already have a wife. And he has to think Rachel is pretty. It won’t work otherwise.”

“Once we find this guy, how do we get them together?” Mickie felt silly asking a third-grader such grown-up stuff, but for being only eight, Addie knew an awful lot. Especially about moms and dads.

“You’ve got to get them to kiss.” Addie picked up her Barbie and Ken dolls and pressed their faces together. “Like this.”

“I saw Rachel kissing a guy in my mom’s bedroom tonight,” Connor said, not taking his eyes off the television screen.

Mickie was about to tell him he shouldn’t be listening to a private conversation when the words registered. “Who was she kissing?”

“Was it Travis?” Addie asked, eyes full of excitement.

“Naw,” Connor said, still not looking their way. “The new guy.”

“That has to be Mr. Rossi,” Mickie said. “He’s really nice. Rachel and I went out for pizza with him once.”

Addie dropped Barbie and Ken to the sofa, her eyes wide. “They’ve already been on a date?”

Mickie found Addie’s excitement contagious. “I guess they have. And if they’ve already kissed …”

“I saw them,” Connor said loudly.

“Connor sees everything,” Addie said and Mickie could hear the admiration in her tone. Oh, yeah, Addie knew a lot.

“So what’s the next step?” Mickie asked.

“They have to be together so they can do more kissing,” Addie said. “Being together is veeeery important.”

“That might be a problem.” Mickie’s heart sank. “Until tonight Rachel hasn’t seen Mr. Rossi since last Saturday.”

“You have to figure out a way,” Addie said. “Otherwise they’re not going to fall in love and you won’t be able to stay here.”

Mickie had tried being good and not asking for much because she’d wanted Rachel to like and hopefully keep her. That hadn’t worked. Rachel liked her, but she was still sending her back.

Addie was right. Finding a husband for her temporary foster mom was her only chance. Mickie had to make Mr. Rossi and Rachel fall in love and get married. And she had less than a month to make that happen.

Although Addie’s mom and stepdad had fallen in love in days, Mickie wasn’t leaving anything to chance. She’d start right away. She had a lot riding on this and she couldn’t afford to waste a single minute.

After the game ended at ten-thirty, Derek and the other guys left the big screen behind and wandered into the kitchen.

During the commercial breaks, Derek had learned a little bit about each of the men. David Wahl, an emergency room physician and Travis’s longtime friend, was also Mary Karen’s brother. Like Travis, David worked with Rachel at the local hospital. Nick Delacorte, Lexi’s husband, was a partner at a law firm in Dallas. He and his family lived part of the year in Texas and the rest in Jackson Hole. And Travis, well, Derek had been shocked to learn that the young doctor had helped raise seven younger siblings. No wonder he was in no hurry to settle down.

He’d enjoyed watching the game with them. The beer had been cold, the appetizers unending and the high-def television had surround sound so he could hear every hit. The only downside to the evening had been the incident with Rachel. Although he knew she’d deny it, he’d taken advantage of her. Just because she’d kissed him first didn’t mean he had to respond so enthusiastically.

She’d barely spoken to him since. Even when she’d put the sloppy joe on his plate, she’d only said a few words to him.

Despite her attempt at a freeze-out, when he entered the kitchen he looked for her. He found her at the counter, back to him, adding ground beans to the coffeemaker.

“Would you like a brownie with ice cream?” Lexi gestured to the plate of chocolate squares on the counter in front of her.

Derek hesitated. They looked delicious, but he’d eaten two sloppy joes and way too many appetizers while watching the game. Still, he did like chocolate….

“Don’t worry,” a small voice said. “My mommy made them herself. They’re super good.”

Even though there seemed to be a gazillion kids running around the house tonight, he immediately made the connection. It wasn’t difficult. The child was the spitting image of her mother. “You must be Lexi’s daughter.”

“That’s right. I’m Addie.” The child slanted a sideways glance at Mickie, who’d just walked up. “He’s smart. I like him.”

Mickie’s cheeks turned a bright red. “How did you like the football game?”

“It was okay.” Derek elbowed Travis in the side. “Though the company left a lot to be desired.”

“Hey, any more talk like that and we won’t invite you back,” Travis shot back.

“I think I may have something to say about that.” Mary Karen chuckled. “This is my house after all.”

Mickie stiffened and exchanged a worried glance with Addie.

“It’s okay.” Derek placed a reassuring hand on Mickie’s shoulder. “We’re just joking.”

“Why don’t you girls grab some dessert and take it over there.” Mary Karen gestured with her head to a card table in the corner of the kitchen. The boys had been put to bed, but Addie and Mickie had been allowed to stay up.

Carefully balancing her dessert, Addie made her way to the table, but Mickie stayed put, her gaze firmly fixed on Derek. “I have something to ask you.”

Mickie looked so serious, the teasing words he’d been about to say died on his tongue. “What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “You’re giving private pitching lessons this Saturday, right?”

“I am.” He wondered how she knew, then remembered the topic coming up when everyone was getting their food earlier.

“Will you give me a lesson?”

She looked so earnest, he hated to turn her down, but he didn’t have a choice. “I’d love to, sweetheart,” he said. “But I’m afraid all the slots are filled.”

A stricken look crossed the child’s face. “Please. You said I had a good arm.” She clasped her hands together and lifted them as if praying. “I’m not good at anything, but I’d like to be. Can’t you please help me? Pretty please.”

“Mickie, Mr. Rossi said no,” Rachel said from across the room, her voice firm but gentle.

The girl’s shoulders dropped. Her bottom lip trembled. The look on her face said he’d dashed a lifelong dream by not giving her a private lesson. He thought for a moment, considering the options. “Come around noon. All the appointments will be over by then.”

“Derek, you don’t have to do that,” Rachel said.

He smiled, feeling his spirits lift. At least Rachel was talking to him now. He placed a hand on Mickie’s shoulder. “I like helping aspiring ballplayers.”

“Afterward you can come to Rachel’s house and have lunch with us.” The words tumbled from Mickie’s lips, one word chasing the other. “You can meet Fred, Rachel’s bloodhound. He’s super sweet. He—”

“Mickie,” Rachel interrupted. “I’m sure Mr. Rossi has better things to do.”

“Actually, I don’t.” Even if he had, Derek would have changed them. The pleading look in the girl’s eyes tugged at his heartstrings. He shifted his gaze to Rachel. “Unless you have other plans?”

For the first time he was aware of other eyes on them. Let them stare, he thought. There was only one person’s response he cared about.

“No.” Rachel reached behind her and pushed the start on the coffeemaker, her cheeks a becoming pink. “No plans.”

“Great.” He exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “I’ll see you both at noon on Saturday.”

“Thank you so much.” Mickie wrapped her arms around his waist in a quick hug, then headed to the card table until Lexi called her back for her brownie.

When Lexi handed him a plate filled with ice cream and a large brownie square, Derek didn’t have the heart to refuse.

“You made Mickie’s night.” Rachel took the plate of dessert that her friend pushed into her hands, then slipped past Derek to take a seat at the dining-room table.

“It seemed to mean a lot to her.” Derek commandeered the seat next to her, placing his plate on the table.

“Until tonight I had no idea Mickie was so interested in sports,” Rachel mused, picking up her fork.

“It takes time to get to know someone.” Derek couldn’t help thinking of Niki and how long it had taken before he’d seen her true colors. “Perhaps she’s just now feeling comfortable enough to share more about herself with you.”

Rachel forked off a piece of brownie. “Perhaps.”

“I didn’t know you had a bloodhound,” he said, wanting the conversation to continue. “I grew up with one. We called him Gus.”

“Cute name,” Rachel said.

Derek wasn’t sure about the name being “cute,” but it had fit the dog.

“A lot of people think it’s crazy for me to have an animal that big when I live in a condo,” she continued. “But once I saw him, I couldn’t imagine getting a different breed.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” Okay, so they were talking about a dog. At least they were talking.

“He’ll be excited to see you,” Rachel said.

Will you be excited to see me? Instead of asking, Derek took a bite of brownie and reminded himself that Saturday wasn’t about him and Rachel; it was about Mickie. He needed to keep that in mind before he did something he’d regret.

Something like forgetting he was supposed to be girlfriend-free for the next six months.

“I’m ready to go.” Mickie twirled around in Rachel’s small living room, while Fred sat in the doorway watching her.

Rachel smiled. Addie loved to twirl and had shown Mickie how it was done when they’d been at Mary Karen’s house.

“Honey, it’s only eleven.” Rachel glanced down at her watch just to be sure. “Eleven-oh-six to be exact. It takes less than ten minutes to get there. Besides, I still have some picking up to do.”

Although Rachel normally kept her apartment spic and span, this week she and Mickie had done more socializing than cleaning.

“I understand.” Mickie stopped twirling long enough to kiss the top of Fred’s head. “You don’t want Mr. Rossi to think you live in a pigsty.”

Rachel chuckled. “Do you even know what a pigsty is?”

“A messy house,” Mickie said promptly. “That’s what the social workers always called my aunt and uncle’s home. But their place was a zillion times worse.”

“Thanks.” Rachel scooped up a newspaper she’d left on the sofa. “I guess.”

She couldn’t believe Derek was coming over for lunch. If Mickie hadn’t arranged the lesson, Rachel doubted she’d have seen him again.

Her lips quirked up in a wry smile. Of course, given her luck, their paths would have crossed again.

“Do you like Mr. Rossi?” Mickie called out, mid-twirl.

Rachel paused, dust cloth in hand. “He seems like a good guy. Why do you ask?”

“When we were at the sports facility, you were nice to him.” Mickie stopped twirling. “But not at Mrs. Vaughn’s home.”

Rachel pulled her brows together. Surely that wasn’t true. She’d been embarrassed by her behavior in the bedroom, but that whole incident had been her fault, not his.

“You acted like you hated him,” Mickie continued. “I could tell it made him feel bad.”

Rachel’s heart dropped. “You think so?”

Mickie nodded with such decisiveness that Rachel’s heart dropped even lower. “Maybe if you’re extra nice to him today he’ll know you don’t hate him.”

“That’s a good idea.”

The child smiled and once again began to twirl.




Chapter Five


Derek had been so focused on showing a young boy how to throw a slider that he couldn’t say for sure when Rachel and Mickie had entered the Indoor Sports Facility. All he knew was when the boy and his dad walked off, he caught sight of them leaning against the wall.

When he met Rachel’s gaze she surprised him with a friendly smile. After the kisses in the bedroom, the interaction between them had been strained and he’d worried he’d damaged their budding friendship.

He returned Mickie’s wave and made his way across the gym floor, hoping all was forgiven and forgotten. He really would like to be Rachel’s friend.

“Hi, there!” he called out as he drew close.

“Good morning,” Rachel said, then glanced up at the large clock on the wall. “Or rather, good afternoon.”

“Hi, Mr. Rossi.” Mickie hurried to his side with a speed that surprised him. Once there, she tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t forget you’re coming for lunch. We’re having grilled cheese sandwiches.”

For a second Derek got the impression that the child was more excited about the lunch than the lesson. But that was crazy.

“I haven’t forgotten.” He shot her a reassuring smile. “Lunch. After the lesson.”

“I’m curious.” Rachel glanced around the gym. “Since Mickie has never played before, where do you begin?”

Today Rachel had pulled her hair back in a ponytail and dressed simply in jeans, a red sweater with silver threads and sneakers. Even though she didn’t appear to be wearing makeup, she had to be because her lips were almost as red as her sweater. He couldn’t help remembering how sweet those lips had tasted.

With great effort Derek pulled his attention back to the matter at hand. “We start with the basics. Like how to grip a ball. Then, I thought she could throw the ball to you while I coach her on her stance and technique.”

“I don’t have anything to put on my hand.” Mickie raised her left arm and wiggled her fingers as if showing off her bright pink polish.

Derek tilted his head. Sometimes little girls could be very confusing creatures.

“She doesn’t have a glove,” Rachel clarified. “We were running late and by the time I remembered, we were almost here.”

“Rachel had to make sure the house was clean for you,” Mickie added.

Derek swore he heard Rachel groan. He hid a smile.

“I’m so sorry,” Rachel said. “Here you go out of your way to help and—”

“No worries.” Derek lifted his hand in a dismissive wave. “We have plenty of gloves kicking around here. And she’s not the only one who’ll need one. Because Mickie will be throwing to you, you’ll need one as well.”

“Me?” Rachel’s voice rose, then cracked. “I haven’t had a glove on since college. And that was only intramural softball.”

“You’ll do fine,” Derek said. “After all, today is all about learning and having fun.”

Rachel reminded herself that she was throwing a ball to a ten-year-old, not trying out for the major leagues. “All right, then. Let’s play ball.”

He shot Rachel and approving smile, then refocused on Mickie.

“Lesson number one.” Derek held up the ball in his hand. “The best way to grip a ball is across the seams.”

He held it out so both Mickie and Rachel could see. “And when you hold it, try to keep the ball out on your fingertips, not up against your palm.”

“Why?” Mickie asked as he flipped the ball to her.

The girl caught the ball easily, but struggled to get a good grip.

“Holding it the proper way helps your speed and accuracy when you throw,” he said.

Derek stepped forward, positioned the ball in Mickie’s hand, then ran backward while slipping on his glove. He punched the pocket with his fist. “Throw it here.”

She lifted her hand and with a stiff arm tossed it to him. It went far to his left, but he easily snagged it.

“Good effort.” He moved to her side and showed her how to cock her wrist back and use it as part of the throwing motion.

Once the girl had a good start on that skill, he gave both of them gloves and had Mickie throw the ball to Rachel. While the child threw, Derek coached her on her stance.

Thankfully Rachel had no problems catching the balls. Mickie improved with each throw and showed definite potential. Oddly, she seemed more interested in talking about all of Rachel’s wonderful attributes than in paying attention to her throwing technique.

“My stomach is growling,” Mickie said when only a half hour had passed.

Derek motioned to Rachel.

“Mickie is hungry,” he said when she drew close.

“Mr. Rossi is hungry, too,” Mickie protested.

“You’re right.” He smiled at the child. “I am.”

“How does grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato basil soup sound?” Rachel asked. “Be honest. We want you to be happy.”




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