heart squeezed. He couldn’t do this. He had no reason to deny her his signature. It was obvious he didn’t care about his mother, and surely he didn’t want the responsibility of a eleven-month-old baby. “You are going to sign that document, aren’t you, Cameron?”
He tightened his hold on her ever so slightly. “What will happen if I don’t?”
A child’s world, and Jo’s, would collapse again. “You will.”
“What will happen if I do?”
“I’ll leave. I can get a cab myself. I promise never to darken your doorstep again.”
A slow smile revealed straight white teeth. “Then I’m going to take every possible minute I’ve got.” He leaned right into her ear and whispered, “And you’d like my doorstep. It’s in a great part of town and professionally decorated. You’re welcome to darken it anytime.”
Every feminine cell in her body betrayed her, dancing to attention and making her tingle. The very thought of what he was suggesting made her legs feel a little weak. Great. Just great, Jo. She hadn’t counted on having to fight herself to get what she wanted.
She tried the deep-breathing technique Katie had taught her when she was in her yoga phase, but it came out like an anxious shudder, and his grin widened at the sound.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said with a soft laugh, patting her thigh just intimately enough to leave an imaginary burn mark. “We’re only down by one. And the Sox are cursed…usually. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
They both knew she wasn’t worried about the game.
Three
The seventh inning was a killer. Boston scored four runs, and the Yanks needed not one but two pitching changes. Things didn’t look good.
At the stretch, it was past nine-thirty. Cam knew they’d never see the end of the game if he was going to get Jo to the airport for an eleven-thirty flight to the West Coast.
Anyway, the Yankees were so deep into the bullpen that this one might be a goner. He still had questions. A lot of questions.
Not that he really gave a rat’s ass what happened to Christine McGrath. But his brothers had just been babies when she drove off like Thelma without Louise. They had a right to know. Especially Colin. Cam’s youngest brother had always blamed himself for their mother’s abandonment, but the little monster had been barely old enough to say his own name when she’d disappeared. He owed the information to Colin, and to Quinn.
He took Jo’s hand and squeezed it, liking any excuse to touch her. “It’s time to go,” he said softly.
Her coppery eyes lit with surprise, then she frowned. “You want to stay for the bottom of this inning, don’t you?”
It was his turn to be surprised—that she’d even make the offer. “Yeah. But I’d rather you didn’t stomp me with one of your cowboy boots for missing your flight.”
They stood, he said his goodbyes to all the box neighbors he spent so many nights with every summer, and he walked her toward the tunnel.
He heard the crack of the bat behind him, knowing by the sound of the crowd that it was a line drive. When he didn’t pause, she looked up at him expectantly.
He gave her a sly grin. “You really don’t think I’d let you be late, do you?” The announcer called a double. Double damn.
Slipping her arm through his, she rewarded him with a million-dollar smile. “Thank you, Cam.”
Aw, hell. That smile was worth missing a grand slam. “No problem. As long as you’re willing to admit the truth now.”
Her step slowed. “The truth?”
He pointed a thumb over his shoulder toward the field. “Dull as dirt?”
“Well…” She dragged out the word and squeezed his arm, the intimacy of the gesture hitting him like a blast of heat. “Your enthusiasm could be contagious.”
He laughed and pulled her closer, noting that her step seemed to lighten and her smile seemed genuine. She could sense she was getting what she came for, and that obviously made her very happy.
“You know, Jo,” he said as they left the stadium and stepped onto the streets of the Bronx, “I gotta tell you something.”
“What?”
Maybe it was the elusive, clean fragrance of her hair, or the feel of her slender arm wrapped through his. Maybe it was the odd companionship he’d felt with the first woman who didn’t try to fake that she understood baseball, but was willing to learn. He didn’t really know what the hell it was, but he felt like telling her exactly what he was thinking. “It’s too bad we had to meet under such bizarre circumstances.”
“Why’s that?” She looked up again, her lips parting slightly, her ridiculous but adorable cowboy hat casting a shadow over her delicate cheeks. “Because you think you could have made a baseball fan out of me?”
He froze in his spot, the desire to kiss her hitting him as hard as that line drive he just missed. “Yeah,” he said, taking off her hat so he could get closer. “And I could, too.”
Face to face, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he curled his arms around her waist and she did the same around his neck. Their heights were damn near perfect, he thought. Her eyes at his mouth, just a simple head tilt apart.
“You’re going to sign the paper, aren’t you?”
He nodded once. With her gazing up at him with that engaging look of gratitude on her face, he just had to dip his head about three inches…open his mouth to meet hers and…
He kissed her.
She tasted like salt and beer and mint. Her lips were warm and soft and when they opened to him, he skimmed the delicate inside flesh of her mouth with his tongue. His head buzzed with the instant pleasure, and he tensed his arms around her, angling his head to make the kiss more intense and longer.
And it lasted just long enough to start a fire in his body.
Slowly she pulled away. Her eyes were closed, but that beautiful mouth formed a smile. For some reason, that pleased him more than anything. She hadn’t yanked away and called him a jerk who’d forgotten the serious reason she’d come to him. She looked like she thoroughly enjoyed being kissed by him.
“I’ll tell you what,” she whispered, her mouth still close enough to almost feel the movements of her lips.
“What?”
“I’ll teach Callie baseball and I’ll even buy her a Yankee baseball cap. Okay?”
A million clashing emotions rushed through him, but he tamped them all down.
“You do that, sweetheart.” He slid his hands over the curves of her waist and up the sleek, tight muscles of her back.
Then she lifted her face toward him again, a victorious
