The Practice Proposal

by Tracy March

  “Jim’s wife.”

  “Which Jim?”

  “Your dad’s golf buddy Jim. He and Charlene were in Pinehurst during the Series. Their place is just up the road.”

  Great. Now Liza would have more people to fake it with.

  The area began to look even more familiar with the hilly fields and woodlands. White fences seemed to stretch for miles as they passed horse farms and estates that appeared even more idyllic beneath the bright turquoise sky. Her mom slowed and made a turn into a long drive bordered with rows of magnolia trees. It took Liza a second to realize it, but this was the farm. The place Cole had taken her twice. The place where he’d first said he loved her.

  “Jim and Charlene are Nats fans?” Liza asked, remembering the curly Ws embroidered on the cushions on the chairs by the pond.

  Her mom smiled knowingly. “We forgive them.”

  So Cole knew Jim and Charlene, too. This was going to be worse than Liza had thought. Charlene would be raving over their engagement.

  Instead of turning toward the barn, where Liza and Cole had gone when they’d come here, her mom kept straight down the driveway. Soon a house came into view. And not just any house, but an incredible stone and white clapboard farmhouse with two chimneys and a sweeping front porch.

  “Wow, their house is gorgeous. This whole place is like…” Liza couldn’t think of the words she wanted. “…a country estate paradise.” With the red-and-white barn that she knew about but couldn’t see from here, the fire pit next to the pond, the party lights along the pier. Everything about this place was perfect…except those curly W chair cushions.

  Her mom pulled around the stone-paved circle in front of the house and parked.

  “How about I wait in the car?” As much as Liza wanted to see inside that house, she didn’t want to have to talk about Cole. Especially on the very property where their romance had begun. She rubbed her stomach. “I’m kind of hungry. Maybe you could just drop and dash.”

  “We won’t be long, I promise.” Her mom grabbed a World Series program and one of the sections of newspaper from the backseat. “I’m sure Charlene wants to congratulate you.”

  Great.

  Liza reluctantly picked up her purse and got out of the car. Until she worked up the nerve to tell people what had happened, or until everyone learned it from Cole, she’d have to play along. She and her mom stepped onto the front porch where large pots of yellow mums bloomed like bursts of sunshine between sets of white rocking chairs, and flanked the deep-red front door. A cool fall breeze rustled the colorful leaves that had fallen from a giant oak tree in the front yard.

  Her mom rang the doorbell, then glanced at the newspaper in her hand and sighed. “I grabbed the wrong one.” She hurried off the porch just as the front door opened.

  With a weary half-smile on her face, Liza looked up and straight into Cole’s bright blue eyes.

  …

  After being without Liza for the last couple of days, Cole had to restrain himself from taking her into his arms right that second. He’d missed everything about her, and the peace he’d felt just knowing she was his. His chest tightened. She wasn’t his anymore. Man, he hoped he could convince her to give him another chance. Life without her would be a million kinds of miserable. That was painfully clear to him now.

  She stood in front of him, looking tired but simply beautiful in her charcoal-gray pantsuit. The surprised look on her face was priceless. She shook her head, her eyes still wide, and let her purse slide onto the porch. “What are you doing here?” she asked quietly, sounding dazed.

  Cole stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him. He risked taking her hand, and she didn’t pull away. A surge of relief pulsed through him. Just touching her again gave him hope. The porch wrapped around the house and he led her to the front corner where the view was most spectacular. As crazy as it was, his legs had gone a little rubbery, so he leaned against the railing. “I live here.”

  It took Liza a second to get it. “This is your farm?”

  He nodded.

  “Your barn…your pond…your party lights?”

  He smiled a little. Of all the things she might think of, she’d mentioned the party lights. She saw things from a different perspective, and he loved her for that, plus so many other reasons. “Yep. I’m the friend of Mack’s who owns this farm. I wanted to wait until after we were engaged to tell you—kinda like an engagement surprise.” He shrugged. “But that didn’t work out so well.” Cole tried to sound casual to cover all the hurt he’d been feeling since he lost her. He’d tried to get angry about the deal she’d made with Frank—and managed to for about five minutes. But ultimately he couldn’t see where she’d done anything worse than he had.

  The sun glinted off the tears welling in Liza’s eyes.

  He smoothed his thumb across her fingers, waiting for her to say something.

  “Just so you know,” she said softly, “if you’re ever thinking about it sometime…I regret making that deal with Frank. No one should gain from being disingenuous, even for a good cause. I’m sorry if you got hurt.”

  “What I did was worse,” he said, “because it was totally selfish.” The breeze caught a lock of her hair and blew it across her face. He gently brushed it aside and tucked it behind her ear, lingering near her earlobe, then trailing his fingers down her silky-smooth neck. His throat tightened. How could he live without this woman?

  “And just so you know,” he said, “if you’re ever thinking about it sometime…from the moment I got to know the real Liza, and every second since, I’ve wanted you to be my wife.” He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “And not because of a contract.” His pulse thrummed in his ears. “I don’t want a new contract if I can’t have you.”

  Liza lowered her eyebrows and gazed at him intently.

  “If you think I’ve been pretending,” he said, “I haven’t. I pretended with every girl I ever dated, and it was a hell of a lonely life. Then there was you. The girl who actually got me. Who knew my past and didn’t judge me. Who saw my flaws and stuck around anyway. Who sparked a crazy chemistry I’d never felt before.” He clutched both of her hands in his. “Who overcame her own grief and gave me a chance.”

  She blinked back tears and shifted her gaze toward the sprawling farmland.

  Cole cleared his throat. This kind of talk was so far beyond his comfort zone. “And you like baseball nearly as much as I do.”

  She nodded. “That’s true.”

  “Before you, baseball was the love of my life. But you mean more to me than baseball ever could.” He clenched his jaw. “So I gave it up.”

  Liza narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  Cole reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a rolled-up page from that day’s sports section of the Washington Post. He handed it to Liza and pointed out the headline: “Nationals’ Collins Opts Out.”

  She shook her head and read aloud, “After his selection as World Series MVP, All-Star first baseman Cole Collins shocked the Nationals with the news that he is not interested in renewing his contract with the franchise, or any other major league team.”

  She stared at Cole, dumbfounded.

  He took the newspaper from her, set it on a nearby rocking chair, and took her hands in his. No doubt he was setting a new record for sustained adrenaline surges. He was more nervous now than he’d been during his proposal at the World Series in front of all those people. But this time it was just him and Liza. And even more than last time, everything was on the line.

  He got down on one knee and gazed up into her eyes. “I want you to marry me, and never doubt it was you I wanted and nothing else.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out the sparkling engagement ring, and nestled it in the palm of his hand. “This represents my heart.” He fumbled in his pocket again, came out with a l
arger ring, and set it next to the other one. “This one, my life. I want to give both of them to you. Please say you’ll marry me.”

  …

  Reeling with emotion, Liza stared at the big ring Cole held next to the diamond—a man’s brushed-platinum signet ring with a polished curly W on it.

  “What’s this?” she asked, nerves twisting her insides and making her shaky.

  “The Nats organization gave us those after we won the Series. They said it could hold the place on our fingers until we get the official rings in the spring.” He smiled sadly.

  Liza thought she might lose it right then. Struggling to keep herself together, she tugged his free hand until he got the message and stood up. The stunned look on his face nearly broke her heart. She took his other hand and closed his fingers around the rings. “I’m sorry, Cole.”

  He grimaced but still managed to look handsome. She thought she might’ve seen tears in his eyes but he managed to blink them back quickly. It took all of her self-control not to wrap her arms around him, but she had to make things right first.

  “I believe you, but I can’t be the reason you quit the game you love.” She cupped his scruffy face in her hand. “Will you tell the Nats you want a new contract, and then marry me?”

  His slow and easy grin told her what she wanted to know before he even said it. He kissed her tenderly and whispered, “Yes.”

  Her heart soared as he slid her engagement ring onto her finger, and she put the Nats ring on his. This was good practice for exchanging wedding rings, which couldn’t happen soon enough for her.

  The moment the rings were on their fingers the front door opened. Liza turned as her mom rushed out onto the porch followed by her dad, Mack and Brenda, Frank, and Paige.

  She looked at them wide-eyed, her mouth agape. “Y’all set me up,” she teased. It was touching that they’d all come together to reunite her and Cole. She couldn’t think of a time she’d ever felt more loved.

  “We all need a little nudging now and then,” her mom said.

  “And no one told me this was Cole’s farm.” Liza fixed Frank with a playfully sharp look, then shifted her gaze to Mack and Brenda.

  “We had our orders,” Mack said sheepishly.

  “Mack and Brenda live here, too,” Cole said. He pointed toward the woods in the opposite direction of the barn and the pond. “Down that way about a half mile. They take care of the place for me.” He put his arm around Liza and pulled her close. “For us. Been doing it for a couple of years now.”

  For us…

  “I couldn’t have picked better neighbors,” Liza said.

  “Glad to see you kids got everything straight.” Frank rocked back and forth on his feet.

  Cole raised his eyebrows. “Not everything.” With just two words, he had everyone’s attention. “Liza won’t marry me unless I tell the Nats I want a new contract.”

  Liza saw the relief on Frank’s face—and everyone else’s, too.

  “Well I’m glad someone could talk some sense into you,” Frank said to Cole.

  Her dad gave Cole a congratulatory pat on the back. “If that Nats thing doesn’t work out for you, there’s this team up the beltway…” He smiled.

  Cole nodded, looking humble. “I’d be honored.”

  “There’s one more thing.” Liza grabbed her purse, took out Frank’s check, and handed it to him. “No deal.” She rested her head against Cole’s shoulder.

  Frank glanced at the check and handed it back to her. “Keep the money. It’s for a good cause.”

  “For real?” she asked, astonished.

  Frank nodded.

  “Thank you.” Her mom hugged him, beaming.

  “Yes,” Liza said, “thank you all for everything.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed Cole. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “This is fun and all,” Paige said. “But we’ve got a picnic lunch waiting down by the pond.” She winked at Liza. “And I made you a new cake without holes in it.”

  “Mmm. Sounds delicious.” Liza gazed at Cole, still amazed by all that had happened. “So this is going to be our place now?”

  He nodded, his eye practically dancing.

  “Our barn…our pond…our Adirondack chairs?”

  He grinned crookedly. “Yes.”

  “Then we’re definitely going to have to do something about those cushions.”

  Acknowledgments

  I had so much fun writing The Practice Proposal because it takes place in a world I love—the world of Major League Baseball and the Washington Nationals. I hope I have brought it to life for you the way they bring it alive for me. My days are always a little brighter during baseball season.

  Special thanks to my amazing editors Stacy Abrams and Alycia Tornetta, for taking a chance with this one and having the patience to see it through. I stay (somewhat) sane in this crazy writer’s life thanks to the unwavering support and good humor of my author friends Kelsey Browning, Tracey Devlyn, Adrienne Giordano, and Nancy Naigle. You girls are the best!

  My mom deserves a special mention for all the times I rushed her off the phone when I was on deadline, and for her love and moral support. And there are no words to properly thank my husband, Mike, for his patience, his wacky perspective, his willingness to eat sandwiches for dinner (a lot), and his happily-ever-after kind of love.

  About the Author

  Award-winning author Tracy March writes romantic thrillers influenced by her career in the pharmaceutical field and her interest in science and politics. She also writes lighthearted romances inspired by her real-life happily ever after.

  Always up for travel and adventure, Tracy has flown in a stunt plane, snowmobiled on the Continental Divide, zip-lined in the Swiss Alps, and been chased by a bull in the mountains of St. Lucia. She loves Nationals baseball, Saturday date nights, and Dairy Queen Blizzards—and rarely goes a day without Diet Coke and Cheez-Its.

  Tracy lives in Yorktown, Virginia, with her superhero husband who works for NASA. They recently spent two years living in Washington, DC, and enjoy visiting often—especially when the Nats are in town.

  Visit Tracy online at www.TracyMarch.com

  Enjoyed The Practice Proposal? Don’t miss Tracy March’s romantic and thrilling suspense novel Girl Three—in stores and online in April!

  Bioethicist Jessica Croft, estranged daughter of a federal judge, has avoided the players, power, and passions of Washington, DC. But when her sister Sam’s suspicious death is classified as natural, Jessie resolves to expose Sam’s murderer. Pursuing elite suspects on both sides of the stem-cell-research debate leads her to security consultant Michael Gillette, who seems to know more about Sam than he’s letting on.

  Michael has a vested interest in Jessie’s plight. Her sister died on his watch—while he wasn’t watching. His plan to find her murderer becomes complicated, though, when Jessie’s father hires him to protect Jessie, and his interest in her becomes much more than professional.

  Together, Jessie and Michael must unravel a mystery rife with political agendas and deceit. When confidential papers reveal a fertility scandal surrounding the enigmatic Girl Three, the two realize the danger of exposing the truth. Who is Girl Three? And will the murderer kill again to keep a secret?

  Read on for a sneak preview…

  Chapter One

  Three words and three numbers. Enough to make Dr. Jessica Croft’s heart hitch. She reread the note the CEO had left on her desk: My office—8:45. Franz. It was already eight thirty.

  What did I do?

  Jessie had never been summoned to the executive suite of The Oliver Institute. Not when she’d kindled a media firestorm with her provocative articles on designer babies. Not when the series had sparked enough controversy to incite a congressional hearing. Not even when she’d been briefed befo
re she went to Washington to testify.

  She unbuttoned her coat and sank into her chair.

  Lois, her early-bird, motherly secretary, came in carrying a mug of hot tea for Jessie and set it on the desk. “Chinese Flower.”

  During the last couple of years, they’d tasted their way through the entire Harney & Sons tea catalog and settled on their favorites. Chinese Flower was Jessie’s.

  “Thank you.” Jessie glanced at her, then looked away quickly, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. “You must have seen the note.”

  “I did.” Lois kept her tone positive. But everyone knew about the curse of the CEO’s office, and they nervously joked about it at the Institute. Franz’s office was the last place you go before the last time you leave.

  Jessie had once seen a dismissed coworker escorted out of the Institute by a security guard. The poor woman had carried a cardboard box full of empty hopes, her dignity left on the desk. Jessie shrugged. “Somehow, I’ve earned the walk of shame.”

  “Or a Pulitzer Prize.” Lois gave her an encouraging smile and set a copy of Jessie’s schedule for the day on the desk. Despite new technology, Lois relied on the tangibility of paper and ink. Jessie understood. Words printed on a page implied a commitment that words typed on a screen could not. Evidently Franz felt the same, since he’d left his message on a Post-it note.

  Jessie swallowed hard, conflicted over the possibilities. “I guess it could go either way.” But not as far as a Pulitzer Prize. And hopefully not as far as getting fired from the Institute. She’d carved a niche for herself here and, thanks in large part to Lois, finally felt like she belonged somewhere.

  “Good thing Franz wants to see you first thing,” Lois said. “I’m not sure much else will get done today.” She gestured toward the window, the creases in her pleasant face deepened by her frown. Outside, the sky hung low and gray. Pine branches glistened, frozen from the dreary beginning of an ice storm. “I’ll reschedule things for you, if need be.”