The Calamity Janes

by Sherryl Woods

  “He didn’t. The paper called. He couldn’t find me, so he sent it on over. He thought he was doing the right thing. He knows otherwise now. If you don’t believe me, call Ryan. Teddy told him the truth.”

  “Why not you? You could have told me.”

  “Because the buck stops with me. I might not have given the picture to the Cheyenne paper, but my employee did.”

  “So you were willing to take responsibility, rather than put Teddy into a tough spot with his uncle or me.”

  “That about sums it up. But Teddy overheard you yelling at me. Then Ryan came storming in and lit into me. It was too much for his nephew. Teddy confessed the whole story.”

  “I see.”

  “Still mad at me?” he asked, regarding her with a hopeful expression.

  “Yes,” she said at once. “Just not as mad.”

  He grinned. “You do know how to cling to a grudge, don’t you?”

  “It’s not a grudge,” she said with exasperation. “This isn’t some whim, Ford. My client’s future is on the line. That doesn’t seem to matter to you.”

  “Of course it matters. That’s why I want her side of the story.”

  Emma considered the request yet again, then shook her head. “I can’t risk it.”

  Ford sighed. “I’m not going to give up or go away.”

  For some reason, Emma found that oddly reassuring.

  His gaze locked with hers. “And it’s not all about Sue Ellen, either.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Meaning?”

  “There’s something between us.”

  “Innate animosity?” she suggested.

  “If only,” he said wryly. “No, I’m afraid it’s more than that. It’s damned inconvenient, but it’s a fact. It’s pointless to try to ignore it.”

  “So what are you suggesting?”

  “That we start over, try to keep Sue Ellen’s case from becoming a roadblock to the two of us becoming better acquainted.”

  Emma considered the suggestion, debated the merits of getting any more deeply involved with a man she instinctively distrusted. In the end, she admitted that she might not have been entirely fair to him. And there were her hormones to consider.

  “I suppose I can do that,” she said finally.

  He cast a speculative look in her direction. “Do you think the results will be any better?”

  Emma sighed. “Probably not.”

  He grinned. “I’m pretty much thinking the same thing.”

  “Then why bother?” she asked.

  He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. That was it. Just his mouth on hers, light as air, hotter than fire. Emma saw stars.

  “Oh, my,” she murmured, when he eventually pulled away.

  “Still need an explanation?”

  She shook her head. “No, I think you’ve presented sufficient evidence to make your case.”

  “Good.” He stood up. “Tell your mom I couldn’t stick around for the lemonade.”

  Startled, Emma stared. “Why not?”

  “Because there’s an old rule of show business—always leave them wanting more.”

  He winked and took off down the steps, leaving Emma staring after him. She lifted a hand and touched her still-burning lips.

  Oh, my, indeed.

  Ford allowed Ryan to talk him into joining a Sunday afternoon baseball game in the park. He had no idea why the sheriff was so eager for his participation, but he was fairly sure it wasn’t because he desperately needed another outfielder, which was all Ford was qualified to be. He certainly wasn’t a powerhouse at the plate or capable of playing any critical defensive infield position.

  When he arrived at the park, he took one look at the opposing team and had his answer. Emma was sitting on the bench, legal pad in hand, brow furrowed as she barked out orders to her team of women. She was wearing shorts, a baggy T-shirt and well-worn sneakers that he had a hunch she’d found in the back of her closet. It definitely wasn’t the attire of a dress-for-success hotshot attorney. The longer she stuck around Winding River, the more her standards seemed to be relaxing—when it came to clothes, anyway.

  Her gaze narrowed when she spotted him standing over her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Ryan invited me.”

  She shot a suspicious look at the sheriff, who was studiously avoiding her gaze. “Oh, really?”

  “He didn’t tell me who was playing,” Ford said.

  “Would that have made a difference?”

  “In the interest of keeping that newfound peace between us, it might have.”

  “You certainly don’t think your team is going to win, do you?”

  “Of course I do,” he said. Then, just to see the quick rise of indignant color in her cheeks, he added, “We are guys.”

  “You were here the last time we played, correct? You do remember the score?”

  “Sure, but you’re forgetting two things. One, Lauren went back to California yesterday. Two—”

  Emma interrupted. “Wait. How do you know that?”

  “Big news,” he said succinctly. “It was the talk at Stella’s this morning. Everyone was speculating how long it would be before she found an excuse to come back again.”

  “What’s the prediction?”

  “A week. Two at most. Everyone’s concluded that Lauren would like to move back here permanently but just hasn’t talked herself into it yet. What’s your take on that? Think she could give up the glamour?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking pretty much the same thing about Lauren,” Emma said, her expression thoughtful. “Okay, what’s the other thing I’m supposedly forgetting?”

  “I’m playing this time.”

  She hooted at that. “And you’re some sort of superstar baseball player?”

  “Could be,” he lied. He was a Little League dropout, but she certainly didn’t need to know that. He had a hunch his primary useful skill today was going to be rattling the manager of the opposing team.

  Emma frowned at him. “We’ll see.”

  Ford leaned down and planted a hard kiss on her lips, then retreated. “We certainly will,” he said, and strolled out to the mound where Ryan was having a conference with the other men. He could feel Emma’s gaze on him the whole time.

  “Glad you could join us,” Ryan said to Ford, amusement threading through his voice. “I thought for a while there you were going to join the other side.”

  “I doubt she’d have me,” Ford said.

  “That’s not the way it looked to me,” Ryan needled. “How about it, guys? Think Emma would take on Ford?”

  The question drew a few ribald responses, along with a grin from Ryan.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” the sheriff said. “But since you’ve chosen to be with us, how about playing center field?”

  “Why center field?”

  “You’ll be directly in the line of sight of anyone up at bat,” Ryan said deviously. “I expect you to make the most of that when Emma’s up. She’s their strongest hitter.”

  “I thought she was just managing,” Ford said.

  “Not today. Some of her key players—”

  “Lauren,” the other men said in a chorus.

  “Right, Lauren. She’s not here. Emma’s filling in. I don’t want her on base. Not even a walk. That means I need to pitch strikes and Ford needs to rattle her composure. How about it, pal? Think you’re up to it?”

  Ford grinned. “It will be my pleasure.”

  It wasn’t long before he had the opportunity to test his skill. Emma had placed herself in the lineup batting cleanup. Her lead-off batter was on base. The next two batters had struck out.

  Ryan glanced over his shoulder at Ford. “Ready?”

  Ford acknowledged the question with a salute, then focused all of his attention on Emma. She had a loose and easy stance at the plate that was belied by the intensity of her gaze, which never once shifted from Ryan. Ford concluded that drastic measures were cal
led for. He stripped his T-shirt off over his head. Her attention caught, Emma blinked, mouth gaping. Ryan’s perfect pitch sailed right past her.

  “Strike one!”

  Emma whirled on Stella, who was umpiring the game. “You call that a strike?”

  Stella held her ground. “I do.”

  “I wasn’t ready.”

  Stella gestured toward the outline of the batter’s box. “You were standing there, weren’t you? Can I help it if your attention wandered?”

  Emma muttered something that had the diner owner grinning, but she eventually returned her attention to the field and stepped back into the batter’s box.

  Ford turned his back to the plate and bent down to tie his shoe. He figured it was the ultimate test of whether those women who’d voted him as having the best butt at the Chicago paper were right.

  “Strike two!” Stella said.

  If Ford wasn’t entirely mistaken, she was chuckling when she called it out. Turning slowly around, he saw that Emma, however, wasn’t the slightest bit amused. She looked as if she might argue the call, then shook her head and scowled in Ford’s direction. That look said that she knew what he was up to and didn’t like it. No, he corrected, what she disliked most was the fact that it was working. Baseball might not be his strong suit, but strategy was quite another matter.

  Emma’s gaze locked on Ryan. Just as he wound up to pitch, Ford touched his fingers to his lips and blew a kiss in Emma’s direction. She swung the bat and missed the ball by a mile.

  “Strike three! You’re out,” Stella said, laughing openly now.

  Ford began jogging in to the bench only to find Emma firmly planted in his path, eyes blazing.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He managed what he hoped was an innocent expression. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Of course you do! You’re deliberately trying to distract me.”

  “You mean the same way Lauren was distracting the men the last time you played?”

  “Exactly,” she said, then blushed. “Never mind. Just stop it.”

  “Sorry, darlin’, I can’t do that. Ryan gave me an assignment.”

  “What assignment? You’re playing center field.”

  “But I have a much more important defensive role for the team than chasing after the one or two fly balls your players are likely to hit.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Which is?”

  He winked at her. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  “I’m your assignment,” she said slowly. “Me specifically.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he wants to win, of course.”

  “But why concentrate on me?”

  “Because you’re good, I imagine.”

  “Well, of course I am,” she said impatiently. “I meant why would he use you to get to me?”

  Ford chuckled at that. “It seems to be working.”

  She frowned, apparently realized that her gaze seemed to be locked on his bare chest, then snapped impatiently, “Oh, put your shirt on.”

  “Seeing me bare chested doesn’t bother you, does it?”

  “I have seen bare-chested men before,” she assured him.

  “Not me.”

  “I can’t imagine why you think that would make any difference. You, Ryan, Randy, it’s all the same to me. A chest is a chest.”

  Ford grinned. “Randy’s not wearing his shirt.”

  “He’s not?” Her startled gaze shot to the man jogging in from left field.

  “The only bare chest you noticed was mine. I rest my case.”

  “Oh, go suck an egg,” she muttered, stalking past him and heading for her position at short stop.

  Ford knew that she resorted to that particular expression only when she was most at a loss. He’d heard her use it when her friends were hitting just a little too close to some truth she didn’t want to acknowledge.

  “Good job,” Ryan said, patting him on the back. “Just one thing? Without turning this game into something X-rated, what the devil are you going to try to get her attention next time she’s up at bat?”

  Chapter 9

  After the baseball game, the entire crowd descended on Stella’s, where Emma found herself the target of a whole lot of good-natured ribbing. For the most part, she took it in stride, but every now and again, when Ford caught her eye, she felt her cheeks burning.

  She had let the man get to her, not just during one at-bat, but during three. She hadn’t been able to tear her gaze away from him. All that exposed skin and sinewy muscle had heated her body worse than the blazing sun.

  And he knew it, too, damn him. He had enjoyed every single second of knowing that he had that much power over her. She could have denied it, but the air practically crackled with electricity when she got within a few feet of him. It would pretty much have destroyed her credibility if she’d brazenly tried to lie about it.

  “Something on your mind?” Ford asked, slipping into the booth beside her when Cassie vacated the spot.

  “Not a thing,” Emma fibbed blithely.

  “Sorry you lost.”

  “Don’t even try to pretend you’re sorry,” she retorted. “I saw you gloating with the men on the way over here. You’re their hero.”

  He regarded her with a totally fake innocent expression. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. And why not? You neutralized my team’s best player.”

  He grinned. “That would be you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Neutralized, huh?”

  “Oh, don’t be so blasted proud of yourself,” Emma snapped. “It was a sneaky, low-down tactic.”

  “One with which you ought to be especially familiar,” he responded.

  Emma ignored the reference to her use of Lauren’s particular talents in the last game she’d managed. Better to stay on the offensive. “I should have expected it of you,” she said. “Do you have a single ethical bone in your body?”

  Ford held up his hand. “Let’s not go back to that. I thought we had established that my ethics are firmly in place.”

  “I don’t seem to recall that. Journalist? Ethical? Hmm, it doesn’t compute for me.”

  “Okay, Emma, that’s it,” Ford said, clearly losing patience with her attitude. “If you’re going to keep saying things like that, I deserve to know what’s behind it. I want you to tell me exactly what happened to make you so suspicious of journalists. Obviously something did. Were you quoted out of context? Did somebody report something you’d said off the record? What the hell happened?”

  “Forget it,” she said, facing him stubbornly. “I’m not talking about it.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said just as firmly. “You owe me that much.”

  She stared at him incredulously. “I owe you that much? I don’t owe you anything.”

  “Sure you do. You’re doing exactly what you once accused me of doing. You’re condemning me without a trial. Worse, you’re doing it based not on something I did, but on what someone else did. I’ll take any knocks you want to deliver when I screw up, but I’m getting tired of paying for what somebody else did to you.”

  There was barely contained anger behind his words, and something else, she realized with a sense of shock. There was real hurt. She’d had no idea she could hurt Ford Hamilton. Even though they had both acknowledged the attraction simmering between them, she’d been convinced it didn’t go any deeper than that. She hadn’t realized she had any power at all to touch him with her accusations and her distrust.

  Actually what she’d really been convinced of was that he didn’t have any emotions at all. Her mistake.

  “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be blaming you for something you had no part in.”

  “But obviously whatever this was affected you deeply. I need to understand it,” Ford insisted.

  “Why?” she asked, genuinely perplexed about why it seemed to matter to him
so much.

  “You need to ask that?”

  She nodded. “Apparently I do. Spell it out for me, so there’s no miscommunication.”

  “Because you’re starting to matter to me, Emma. If I’ve got an uphill battle to fight, I need to know all the obstacles.”

  She stared at him as if he were speaking a foreign language. “I matter to you? What does that mean?”

  He shook his head, his expression pitying. “You honestly don’t know, do you?”

  “I know you’re attracted to me,” she acknowledged after a brief, though charged, silence.

  “And?” he prodded.

  “That’s it. There’s an attraction.”

  He sighed heavily. “Okay, I suppose that’s as good a place as any to start.” His gaze locked with hers. “But it’s just the start, Emma. I think there’s going to be a whole lot more before we’re done.” He touched her cheek. “If you’ll let it happen.”

  Emma trembled at his touch. Could she let anything happen? She honestly didn’t know. There were a million and one reasons not to. How many were real and how many were roadblocks she had deliberately put in their path to prevent any risk of heartache? She had no idea. Her ex-husband had hurt her in so many ways, and her ability to trust had been damaged as a consequence. More than that, he’d called into question her judgment when it came to men.

  “Will you let something happen between us?” Ford asked quietly.

  “I shouldn’t,” she replied, desperately wishing it could be otherwise. Ford was the first man to make her want a relationship, the first to rekindle her desire.

  A smile tugged at his lips. “Neither should I. We’re like oil and water, but that doesn’t seem to stop me from wanting you. Will you let this progress to its natural conclusion, Emma?”

  “What conclusion?”

  “We won’t know until we get there.”

  “I can’t make any promises.”

  “But you’re not saying no?”

  His persistence exasperated her, even as it set off a tiny thrill deep inside. “You’re determined to pin this down, aren’t you?”

  “Like you said earlier, I don’t want any misunderstandings down the road.”