What a Woman

by Judi Fennell

  Actually, he was torn on that subject. He only wanted to hear about it if Dave hadn’t enjoyed it.

  Of course, Dave would have to be dead for Mac’s kiss not to do anything to him. Jared knew that firsthand.

  Bryan caught up to them. “Thanks for abandoning me, guys.”

  “Aw, come on,” said Liam, ribbing him yet again. Bryan made it so easy. “You love it. Isn’t that why you got into the business? So you could get all the women?”

  “That’s just wrong. The kid was fifteen.”

  “Long time to never wash an arm.” Guilt spiked through Jared the minute he said it. Here they were, teasing each other about that girl’s crush, and she was probably thrilled beyond belief that a movie star had paid attention to her. He’d seen that same hopeful look on Mac’s young face that night at her grandmother’s.

  God, was the guilt ever going to go away?

  It was a good thing Mac had tomorrow off. Well, not off from work because she had another client she’d promised Thursday to, but off from coming back to Grandma’s. He could use a breather—if only to do some serious thinking about what he wanted out of life and where—and if—Mac fit into that.

  And if she’d let herself fit into it.

  “I signed her T-shirt,” Bryan said. “The one she’d just bought, not the one she was wearing. What kind of pervert do you take me for?”

  “Just your average, run-of-the-mill pervert, I guess,” Jared said, trying to interject humor he wasn’t feeling to get off the subject of a young girl’s crush. “What’s the difference?”

  Bryan slapped the back of his baseball cap so it fell over his face. “Watch it, you. I say your name just a little louder and we’ll have a swarm crawling all over you, too.”

  Jared turned so quickly the cap almost spun off. “Don’t you dare, Bry. I don’t need that nightmare.”

  Bryan put up his hands in surrender. “Backing off here. No need to get psycho on me.”

  Jared straightened his cap, trying to hide his face. People were looking at them. It was no secret he was friends with a movie star, and he didn’t need anyone connecting the dots and figuring out who he was, or cameras and cell phones would be going off in seconds. “You’re all about publicity these days and I get that, but me? I’m all about recovery since the accident. I don’t need cameras and mics in my face asking me how it’s going or when I’ll be back. If I knew, they’d know, you know? I’m so sick of the intrusion into my privacy. Do they think I like having to relearn how to walk? That I want to show up in a stadium in a wheelchair? Or hear what my ex-girlfriend who did this to me is doing these days?” Rotting in hell, he hoped. “Why the hell is any of it news? Can’t they just leave a guy in peace to do his job?”

  Neither of them answered, and a couple people stepped back.

  Great. Injured and insane. He would make for really good copy right now.

  He twisted in his seat and rearranged the food carriers. Just get him to his seat and everything could get back to normal.

  There was a poster of a beautiful woman plastered to the wall as they entered their seating area. Cassidy Davenport, local socialite and sole heir to the Davenport hotel and construction empire. She made news just by breathing. Surprisingly, though, even though she was a classic beauty, she couldn’t hold a candle to Mac. And that was the God’s honest truth.

  Jared shook his head. How and when things had shifted was up for debate. But shifted they had.

  “Damn, that’s a gorgeous woman,” he said. Lee would expect the comment; his playboy reputation wasn’t entirely fictionalized. Some of it, yes, because it got him mentioned in the news—professional athletes were no different from other celebrities when it came to that—but if he were as romantically active as the tabloids made him out to be, he’d never have time to play ball.

  “Steer clear, Jare,” Bryan said as he helped him from the wheelchair to a seat. “Woman like that . . . I don’t know if you’ve got enough bank to keep her happy. And if you do, she’s only after it. Not the marrying kind.”

  Jared lifted his leg onto another chair. “Who says I’m in the market to get married? But she might be the perfect incentive to get back on my feet.” He was saying the words, but he wasn’t feeling them. It was as if he was talking about some other Jared Nolan—the one who had let Mac go.

  “On your feet isn’t where you’re planning to be with her.” Bryan grabbed one of the plastic cups. “Lee? Here’s your beer. You look like you could use it. I bet she’s a pain in the ass to work for, right?”

  Oh, right. Mac had given Liam Cassidy Davenport as a client. What did Mac have against the poor guy? Lee’s last relationship had been with a B-list socialite, whereas Cassidy Davenport was an A-lister all the way. She’d actually been Camille’s hero—which should’ve been his first clue.

  Poor Liam.

  “I pity the guy who ends up with her.” Bry handed Jared a beer next. “We learned to steer clear of daddy’s girls. Right, Lee?”

  Liam chugged half the beer and Jared didn’t blame him. Hell, if he had to work for Cassidy, he’d be drunk all the time.

  “See what a hardship it is?” Bry cocked his head Liam’s way. “He’s gotta chug a few after spending the day cleaning her froufrou shit. I bet it’s all pink and lacy, am I right?”

  Did Mac wear pink and lacy?

  Oh hell, he shouldn’t be thinking like that. He took another swig of his warm stadium beer. Ah, nothing like it.

  Liam wiped his mouth with his arm. “What about the place where you’re working, Bry? How’s that going?”

  Jared noticed Lee hadn’t answered the question. Interesting.

  “How?” Bryan sat down and put his feet up on the railing in front of him. “Well, let’s start off with: Beth’s a widow. And a mom. Of five.”

  “Five?” Jared practically choked on his beer. He’d always wanted a brother, but five? “Who has five kids anymore? Who’d want five kids?”

  “You don’t like kids?” asked Bryan.

  Jared had to think about how to answer that since these guys were two of four, and four wasn’t far from five. “I like kids well enough, I guess. But five? That’s a little much.”

  “It’s a basketball team.”

  Jared slathered a hotdog with ketchup. If he had food in his mouth, he couldn’t put his foot in it. “It’s not enough for a baseball team, so what’s the point?”

  “Hang on. You want nine kids?”

  Now he almost choked on his hotdog. He didn’t want to discuss kids. Not when that image of Mac holding a baby had popped into his head and he had to see her on a daily basis. “No. I’m just saying, if you’re going to go for five, what’s another four?”

  “Uh, a lot more mouths to feed,” said Bryan. “Diapers to buy. College tuitions to pay. Ballgame concession stands to go broke at. I can’t imagine having even one.”

  Oh, Jared could imagine—making them, that was. There was a reason the world was overpopulated.

  Still not what he needed to be thinking about, given that Mac was their sister . . . “Yeah, but once you get beyond two, it’s just numbers.” He finished his hotdog, then picked up another and, in an effort to steer the conversation off this topic, went for the next obvious one. Bryan was easy to pick on. “But a widow, huh? How long’s she been single?”

  “Seriously?” Bryan’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Did you not hear me? I said five kids. Need I say more?”

  The thing was, Bryan probably would. Which was unlike him. Bryan was the ultimate in chill when it came to women, so this outburst was out of character. Protesting too much maybe?

  Jared looked at Liam to see if he was picking up on this.

  Liam took a chug of his beer and Jared thought he saw a hint of a smile behind the cup.

  “So what’s the prognosis, Jared? When’re you gonna be back in the game?” Lia
m, ever the peace-keeper, changed the subject.

  But not for the better.

  Jared sucked the inside of his cheek and grimaced. “I have to wear this damn brace awhile longer and do a shitload of rehab. Doc says nine months total. I’m planning on it being sooner.”

  “Nine months?” Bryan sat back. “That sucks. But you better listen to the doc. Don’t want to get back before the body is ready. I did that after I hurt my knee on the set in Sri Lanka, and damn, big regret. ’Course, it might have had to do with the less than stellar medical care, but still, Doc said to take it easy for a month, but I had to get back on set. Was worried I’d lose the part.” He shook his head. “Stupid. Took another month for it to give out while I was holding Ava Stone.” The Bryan Manley wolfish grin made an appearance—not unexpected when discussing the actress. “Not that having Ava Stone land on me was all that much of a hardship.”

  “Considering it started your relationship with her,” said Liam sarcastically, “I can see why it wouldn’t be.”

  “Not a relationship. A mutually beneficial usury.”

  Jared did choke on his hotdog at that phrase. Rang a little too close to home. Okay, a lot too close to home. “So, guys, you have plans for this weekend? I have a ribbon-cutting at the community center. It’d be nice to have some friendly faces there.” And keep him from doing something stupid around their sister.

  “Gee, Jare, I don’t know . . . Go to a stuffy ribbon-cutting ceremony or hang out at home watching a game. Let’s see . . .” Bryan curled his wrist toward his forehead in an attempt to reenact Rodin’s The Thinker.

  Thank God he didn’t take his clothes off to do it or there’d be mass hysteria in their seating section.

  “Hey, there’s no point in watching if I’m not playing.” Jared flicked an unused straw at Bryan, going for humor, but the truth was the thought of not being on the mound ate a hole in his gut. The world hadn’t stopped for the rest of the population when he’d stopped playing ball.

  Bryan broke character to pick up his beer and salute him. “You know? That’s true. Weymouth doesn’t have what you have. There’s no consistency. No style. It’s like he’s looking at a batting machine when he pitches.”

  Weymouth was a good pitcher and Jared appreciated Bry’s attempt at saving his ego. “Good. So then you can come. I’ll save two front-row seats for you guys. Think Sean can make it?”

  “No clue,” said Liam. “But you’ll have to count me out. I’ve got inspections coming up on the new place and need to get some work done. With this cleaning gig, I’m behind schedule. Gotta work, buddy. Not all of us can make a million dollars.”

  He didn’t correct Liam on the amount. He was almost embarrassed by it. Almost, but he wasn’t stupid. They wanted to pay him millions? He was taking it because there would come a time when they wouldn’t anymore.

  He was afraid that this might just be that time.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  JARED was surprised that he wasn’t afraid to admit that he was looking forward to seeing Mac Saturday morning.

  He’d missed her the past two days. She’d been off on another job and after a long, disappointing call with his attorney about filing civil charges against Camille and her boyfriend for the attack and more waiting on the eviction, he’d been stuck here alone with the kittens and the cleaning and the attic. He’d gotten through a lot of boxes, but the days had lasted a lifetime. Even the neighbors hadn’t shown up with goodies.

  He didn’t want the neighbors; he wanted Mac. It was almost funny to be excited about seeing her, but there was nothing funny about what he was coming to feel for her.

  Jared pushed off the nightstand to get up and tested his bad leg. It took some of his weight without twinging, so that was good. Dave said it was an excellent sign of his recovery.

  Dave.

  They’d cleared the air yesterday. Dave, as it turned out, had figured out what Jared was feeling about Mac before he did, and had decided to bring the issue to a head by asking her out himself.

  “Don’t get me wrong, buddy,” he’d said as he’d put Jared through his paces. “If she were interested, we’d be having a different conversation, but she isn’t, so we won’t. The woman, for whatever reason, has it bad for you. So don’t blow it or that’s what will make you a loser, not this injury.”

  The ball was firmly back in his court. He just needed to figure out what to do with it.

  He hobbled into the tiny mosaic-tile-covered bathroom and turned on the shower. Then he leaned on the bathroom sink and stared at himself in the mirror.

  What do you want, Nolan?

  He looked at himself. Really looked at himself, almost daring himself to answer.

  He’d never been one to back down from a dare.

  Jared sucked in a fortifying breath, nodding at his reflection.

  He wanted not to be alone.

  There. He’d admitted it. He didn’t want to be alone. He’d been alone growing up, parents distant from each other and from him. They still were. Camille had used him, all her so-called caring a façade. He had Liam and his other friends, but that wasn’t what he was talking about, and his teammates were professional associates, not bosom buddies. Baseball was a job. A career. It wasn’t a life.

  He wanted someone to come home to. Someone who’d be there in the morning, who’d worry about him, think about him. Care about him. Who’d show up at the damn hospital because she couldn’t bear the thought of him not being in her world and needed to assure herself he was coming home. To her.

  He wanted a family. A real one. All that talk about kids with Liam and Bryan last night . . . Maybe he wouldn’t want five, but, then again, why not? It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford them.

  Steam fogged the mirror and Jared let it. God, was he pathetic or what? Standing here mooning over what he didn’t have when he ought to be grateful for what he did.

  But he wanted more—No, not more. Something else. People thought fame and fortune were it, but at the end of the day, you couldn’t take those with you. They didn’t wrap their arms around you when your world turned upside down and tell you they’d stay with you no matter what. They didn’t leave a note on your pillow or write lipstick hearts on the bathroom mirror—not that he could see Mac doing that; she’d only have to clean it.

  He smiled as he got in the shower, but it was rueful.

  Mac.

  He’d known her almost his whole life, yet hadn’t really known her. What he was learning about her now, he liked. She wasn’t the pest he’d thought, and the tornado that surrounded her was because she was doing a million things: helping people, growing her business, being part of her family. She loved her brothers and her grandmother—loved his grandmother—helped small animals, didn’t put up with his shit, had a smile that could light up a room, and most of all, she was herself. She was Mac Manley and made no apologies for it.

  No, he’d been the one to apologize. As he should have.

  He turned the spray to cold and sucked in a breath at the shock of the temperature change. Or maybe it was the shock of having blown his chance with her by not realizing that the last time she’d worn her heart on her sleeve around him was the last chance he’d get.

  He’d taken Mac and her feelings for him for granted. That they’d always be there. Just like he’d taken it for granted that he’d always be in control of his career.

  Camille had proved him wrong on that end, as well.

  He scrubbed the washcloth over his chest. It wasn’t over ’til the fat lady sang, and right now, no one was singing, least of all him. He’d get Camille out of his house one way or another, and he’d find out if he had a shot with Mac.

  He rinsed off, wrapped a towel around his waist, and started coming up with a game plan.

  * * *

  MAC pasted a smile on her face and waved to people she knew. She hadn’t thought throu
gh the reality of what coming to this event with Jared would entail, with everyone she knew—and people she didn’t—seeing them together.

  He was wearing a Manley Maids shirt, so that gave her the promotion excuse, but still, her friends knew about her crush. Half the town had known about it back then, and most of the town was still in town. And most of those who’d lived here for years were here.

  Gossip was starting already.

  Then the reporters chimed in.

  “Nolan, what’s your prognosis? When will you be back?”

  “You going to be starting next season?”

  “Think the team will make it to the Series without you?”

  “Is this your new business partner?”

  “Cleaning houses these days, Nolan?”

  Mac didn’t get a lot of the sarcasm and put-downs. Jared was a hometown hero. Why would they want to kick him when he was down?

  Jared kicked back with that killer smile of his, however, tilting his baseball cap back, and tugging Mac forward. “Actually, Mike, no. I’m not cleaning houses; I’ve hired Manley Maids to do it for me. This is Mary-Alice Manley, the owner. Take her card. Best service in town. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

  They took her cards, though it had more to do with Jared telling them to, but who knew? Maybe she’d get a mention—though his satisfaction guaranteed had raised a few eyebrows and gotten a few snickers. Oh, well. She wouldn’t mind if it put Jared’s picture in her uniform in the paper and, given the shutter-bugging that was going on, maybe she’d make it into the papers as well.

  Geez, if she’d known it’d be this easy, she could’ve gotten some sleep instead of learning how to beat her brothers at poker. All she’d needed was Jared.

  Seemed to be the mantra of her life.

  The ceremony started, with Ted Bakersfield, the community center director, welcoming the crowd then segueing to Jared’s intro, all his career highs from when he played for the high school, all through college and into the majors.