The first of the young guys picked up a ball from the pile of them sitting outside the cage and walked out to the pitcher’s mound.
Sara could feel every step he took, her heart pounding in sympathy.
She held her breath as he took his first pitch. And winced when the batter connected solidly and the ball went flying past to where Ollie stood.
Ollie scooped it up easily and sent it back to the pitcher, yelling something that Sara thought was, “C’mon, rook. Get it together.”
Not helpful.
The second pitcher was better, she thought, the kid not looking so nervous. He had curly dishwater-brown hair and a solid build and even managed a flash of a nervous amazed grin before he took his shot. But he, too, got his pitches smashed solidly by the batter.
And then the third—the short-haired guy—managed to get in a ball that the batter didn’t connect with. He smiled as he straightened, teeth flashing white against his olive skin, but then his face turned serious again as his second attempt suffered the same fate as his friends’. This time, the coach beckoned and the kid came back to where the others stood.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lucas start to walk out on the field. She realized, as he walked, that this was the first time she’d seen him wearing something other than a suit. The something being very dark jeans and very expensive-looking sneakers with a navy polo shirt that had a white Saints logo on the back.
The jeans showed off his butt very nicely as he walked and she made herself turn her gaze onto the three baby pitchers instead, who all looked even more nervous as they watched Lucas—their potential boss—coming toward them.
That, she really could sympathize with.
To her surprise, when Lucas reached the three of them, he bent and picked up one of the balls, tossing it idly in his hand as he said something to the rookies.
He spoke to them for a minute or two then demonstrated a pitch, his body moving through the motion as easily as any of the players she’d seen today. He didn’t let go of the ball at the end of the movement, though, keeping it in his hand before he did the move again, the actions so strong and sure that she knew he must have done it hundreds of times.
Had he played baseball? And if so, how seriously?
Interesting. Obviously she needed to do a bit more research on the man.
Or just ask him.
No. That was too personal. There was going to be no personal between her and Lucas. All business, all the time, and nothing more. Awesome butt or not, he was not for her.
Except he didn’t seem to realize that. As he returned to the fence line, he stopped to say something to Dan and then came and sat next to Sara.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“They’re nervous,” she said. “You need to loosen them up a bit.”
“They need to be able to perform under pressure.”
“I get that, but if you want to see what they can really do, you need to get them to relax. Have a little fun with it. You seem to be big on people having fun.”
He ignored her dig. “This is major league. It’s serious.”
“Yeah, well, I had to teach nervous eighteen-year-olds how to fly helos in the army. Trust me, it was always easier if you could get them to forget how terrified they were for a while.”
He turned to her, a curious expression in his eyes. “What do you suggest, then?”
“They’re guys, make it a contest.”
“I think they already know they’re competing.”
“Yes, but right now the goal is too big. Their whole life’s dream dangling over their heads. No one can relax in those circumstances. You need to make it something smaller. A more immediate reward.”
“You want me to take them to Disney World or something?” Lucas sounded amused.
“If they like Disney, that might work,” she said. “But they’re young guys trying to look tough in front of the pros, so I’m guessing that they wouldn’t admit anything so uncool. Make it a cooler prize, though, and you’re on the right track.”
“Something cool, huh?” Lucas said. He smiled then, and the expression held more than a hint of wickedness. “Like a helicopter ride with the hot pilot?”
She frowned. “I’m hardly the hot pilot.”
“I think I’m the better judge of that,” he said, his voice dropping low and intent. “And trust me, they’ll see it my way.” He leaned a little closer. Just a little. They were, after all, in public. But it was enough to make her mind fog a little as she breathed him in.
No. No. No. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not going to happen,” she said.
A smile spread across his face. “I was thinking that you could take the guy who does the best for a bit of a scenic flight later on.” He cocked his head at her, a clear invitation for her to contradict him.
As clear as the fact that he wasn’t thinking about his rookie pitchers at all. No, he was thinking about the two of them. About her.
She didn’t know why he wouldn’t just quit it. There were plenty of way prettier women than her who’d be more than happy to sleep with Lucas. But here he was. Looking at her.
Thinking at her.
Daring her to ask him what he was thinking about.
So not going to happen.
She was glad of the sunglasses hiding her a little from his gaze. It meant she didn’t have to look away. “Well, you are the boss. So sure.”
His mouth quirked. “If only you were so amenable to all my suggestions. Have you given any more thought to the whole concept of having fun?”
She held up her eReader. “I have a good book. I have all these nice-looking men to watch, and I’m sitting in the sunshine in Florida rather than freezing my butt off in New York. I’m having plenty of fun.”
“Your idea of fun needs work,” he said. “I have much better ideas than that.”
“Well then, figure out something fun for your baby pitchers to do,” she said. “And go bother them.”
“Why, Sara Charles, do I bother you?” he said in a voice that was almost a purr, satisfaction underscoring his words.
Her cheeks went hot. “Not in the slightest,” she lied.
Lucas lifted his eyebrows, smile widening. But then, to her relief, he moved back and got to his feet.
She kept her eyes firmly on her eReader as he walked away.
* * *
Lucas watched the helicopter descend toward the ground and tried not to hold his breath. He couldn’t see Sara from this distance—the helo was a dark blur against the late-afternoon sunshine—but he knew she was up there. And he wouldn’t feel relaxed until she was firmly back on the ground.
Which was dumb.
“Man, that looks awesome.”
He turned his attention to the two rookies standing with him. In the end, Sam had been Dan’s pick for having the done the best that day, finally loosening up enough to unleash a series of fastballs that had nearly set the batter’s hair on fire. So he was the one up in the air with Sara but Lucas had let the other two—Tico and Walsh—come with Sam to the airfield. A little envy wouldn’t hurt their performance, and Sam would be even more pumped if he got to show off in front of his friends.
He remembered that feeling all too well. He’d been about the age of these three when he’d first met Mal and Alex. The three of them had delighted in beating one another in any stupid contest they could come up with.
Teenage boys.
Idiots.
Not that he seemed to have learned that much in the intervening years. At least not when it came to women. He was feeling pretty teenage himself as he watched the chopper bring Sara closer and closer.
He needed to figure out how to convince her to give him another chance. Because the more time he spent near her, the more he knew that there was no way he was getting her out of his system anytime soon.
Every time she looked at him, the blood in his body rushed south and he struggled to think straight.
He really needed to figure out how to win her over.
The chopper was close enough now that he could see the concentration on her face as she brought it in to land, her brows drawing together, eyes fixed on whatever point she was aiming for.
Christ, even that was sexy.
There was something wrong with him.
Yeah, and her name was Sara Charles.
“Will we get another shot at a ride in that?” Walsh shouted as the wind from the rotors started to buffet them.
Lucas shrugged and made himself look at Walsh. “That depends how well you do.”
He saw determination light in the kid’s eyes. He wanted the ride. Or wanted to win. Either way worked. Sara had been right about getting them to focus on something smaller. She might not know baseball but she’d apparently been right when she said she understood guys.
Which was kind of unsettling, really. Did she see through him as easily as she’d seen through the rookies’ bravado?
If so, he was in serious trouble.
The noise and wind from the chopper finally died. The doors opened and Sam climbed out, grinning widely. He jogged across the field and Walsh gave him a high five. “Dude, how cool was that?”
Sam hitched a shoulder. “Pretty cool.”
“More than pretty cool,” Tico said. “That pilot chick is hot.”
Lucas stiffened. “Hey,” he said. “Around here, we treat women with respect. Ms. Charles is the team pilot and you will be polite.” He heard the snap of anger in his tone. Maybe a little more anger than the dumb comment warranted. There was a thread of possessiveness in it, not just his annoyance at a teenager mouthing off at a woman.
Tico winced then held up his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Lucas nodded, once. “Think before you talk then. There are plenty of women involved with the Saints, and they’re all more important than you three at this point.” He jerked his head back toward the stadium. “The three of you should head back. I’m sure the coach has something for you all to be doing.”
Looking suitably subdued, they turned and jogged off immediately. Lucas saw Sam turn back, though, and steal a last glance at the helicopter before he gave up and sprinted a little to catch up with his friends.
Lucas turned back and saw Sara walking around the helo, her expression one of concentration.
He walked over to where she was. “Problem?”
“No, just checking things out. I’ll take the helo back to the airfield in a minute.” She stopped for a moment. “Unless there’s somewhere you need to go?” Her tone was polite. Damn. She was back behind her wall again.
He shook his head. “No. I’m good. Thanks for doing this. You were right about it relaxing them.”
“Yeah, Sam had fun.” She peered up at him. “What were you saying to them at the end there? You got them looking all nervous again.”
“I was explaining to them certain things about the way we expect women to be treated in the Saints,” he said.
“One of them called me hot or something?” she asked. She shook her head at him. “I can cope with a teenager, Lucas. You don’t have to defend my honor.”
“Yes, I do,” he said. “I don’t want that attitude on my team. The other players would take their heads off if they caught them talking like that about Maggie Jameson or any of the other female employees, for one thing. For another, it’s just wrong.”
“So you can hit on me, but no one else can? Wow, you don’t like other people playing with your toys, do you?”
He scowled. “You’re not a toy. And frankly, that’s insulting. I’ve made my position clear, yes, but it’s up to you. Tell me you never want me to mention it again, and I’ll never mention it again.”
He paused and watched her. Her cheeks, which had a faint hint of pink from the sun, went pinker and she glared at him but, tellingly, she said nothing. Something primal flared in his gut. Desire. Need.
She hadn’t said no.
He’d given her a clean shot to tell him to take a hike and she hadn’t said it.
She wanted him. So now he had to figure out how to get her to say that part. Because he was going to crawl out of his skin if he didn’t get to touch her again soon.
But it was probably wiser not to push his luck just at the moment.
“And sure, if guys want to hit on you, they can. I’m sure you can handle them. But making a genuine pass is different from talking trash. I don’t let it happen at the hospital and I’m not going to let it happen here.”
“Okay,” she said. Then she nodded toward the helicopter. “I really should get this back to the airfield.”
He wanted to tell her to stay but it was clearly not the right time. He was going to find the right time. Very soon. But now he just nodded. “I have to be back in New York tomorrow, so we’ll be leaving about midday.”
“Do you need me before then?”
“No,” he said. “But I’m sure Sam and his friends would like it if you came by to watch them again in the morning.” They weren’t the only ones.
“All right,” she said. “I will. See you tomorrow.”
* * *
She should be home by eight at the latest. That was her plan. Deliver Lucas to Staten Island then deliver herself to her parents to pick up Dougal and head home. She smiled at the thought. She’d promised herself a night off, a tiny reward. Her, Thai takeout, Dougal, and a few hours to catch up on the shows her aging TiVo had hopefully recorded for her while she’d been in Florida. British detectives and melodramatic billionaire vigilantes and reruns of half a dozen other shows she’d missed while deployed.
A night off without having to worry about Charles Air. Her salary with the Saints would take care of the bills for now, and she would start chasing up the insurance company again in the morning. Tonight she was going to just relax.
Something she hadn’t been doing enough of lately. Something that she definitely hadn’t been doing in Florida. Being around Lucas close enough to twenty-four seven wasn’t remotely relaxing.
The fact that it wasn’t relaxing, that she was still far too aware of every move he made and the sound of his voice, was even more not relaxing.
She had a knot between her shoulders the size of the Grand Canyon from pretending not to notice him. But a bath, some red wine, and mindless TV should take care of that.
Heaven.
But first she had to get through the final, less heavenly part of the evening. One last flight from JFK back to Staten Island with Lucas.