Catching Heat

by Alison Packard

  “Fine.” She rattled off her phone number and he entered it into his phone. After a glance around the room, which was strewn with boxes and athletic equipment, she asked, “You’re leaving on Sunday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I probably won’t see you for a while. I’m due in late April.

  “You’ll see me before then,” J.T. said as she moved into the hallway.

  Angie turned to find him leaning against the doorframe watching her with unreadable eyes. “Do you believe me then? About the baby being yours?”

  “I don’t want to think you’re the type of woman who would try to trick me, but I have to be absolutely positive.” His eyes narrowed. “Surely, you can understand that.”

  Despite her no-doubt hormonally fueled outburst, Angie did understand. J.T. wasn’t asking for anything she wouldn’t be asking for if she were in his shoes. For several seconds he held her gaze and to her mortification, she couldn’t control her racing pulse or stop the feminine awareness that pooled low in her belly. This was why she had avoided him—even long before they’d had sex. The way J.T. made her feel scared her to death. She couldn’t fall for a man like him—a ballplayer. She knew only too well the heartache awaiting her if she traveled down that particular road.

  She’d vowed a long time ago she wouldn’t end up like her mother. And it was a vow she intended to keep.

  * * *

  Early Sunday morning, J.T. packed up his Ford F-150 and cruised along I-80 toward Sacramento. On a normal trip home his music would be cranked up and there’d be nothing on his mind except catching the Forty-Niners game with his brothers at their favorite sports bar.

  But nothing in his life was normal. Not anymore.

  A long time ago, when J.T. was thirteen, his father had sat him down and talked to him about sex. He already knew about sex—not because he’d had it, but because it was pretty much all he and his friends talked about. Sports and girls were their favorite topics of discussion. But at no time during their horny adolescent musings did they ever discuss pregnancy, condoms or STDs. No, all they’d been concerned about was when and where they were going to get laid.

  Because he worshipped his father, J.T. had listened intently, and by the end of the conversation he was deathly afraid of two things: becoming a teenage father and the possibility his dick might fall off from a sexually transmitted disease. Joe Sawyer had done his job well. After that father and son talk, J.T. vowed to never have unprotected sex, and until that night with Angie, he never had. Not even once.

  As it turned out, his dad was right. All it took was one time to make a baby. Or in his and Angie’s case, two times on the same night.

  A baby.

  He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. He was going to be a father. The thought of it scared the shit out of him. Having a kid was a huge responsibility and he wasn’t all that convinced he was up to the task. His mind was on baseball, not babies. How could he concentrate solely on his training regimen while Angie carried his child?

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want kids. He did. Someday. Like when he was in his mid-thirties, or maybe even later when he wasn’t playing ball anymore. But when he pictured himself having kids there was always a wife involved. He’d never wanted to be one of those professional athletes who left a trail of baby mamas in his wake. It went against everything he believed in. He and his brothers had been raised by two loving parents and had a large extended family with aunts, uncles and cousins. He wanted that same experience for his children.

  Well, he’d fucked that up. The woman having his baby was someone he barely knew. But it wasn’t from lack of trying. From the first moment he met Angie DeMarco, his body’s most primal reaction kicked in with a vengeance.

  It had happened in the Blaze’s front office his first week with the team and when he was formally introduced to her he could have sworn she felt the same powerful attraction he did. But he’d been wrong. After that initial meeting she rebuffed every overture he’d made until the night of her softball game. That night he’d finally gotten a glimpse of the warm and sexy woman underneath the quiet reserve she wore around her like a heavy winter coat. He’d liked that woman. Heliked her a lot.

  Then she was gone, and it was almost as if that night had never happened. But now there was absolute proof that it had. That one reckless night had created a new life.

  How would this affect his career aspirations? Damn it. He couldn’t think about that right now. There was an innocent child to consider—that’s what his priority needed to be.

  By the time he pulled into his parents’ driveway in East Sacramento J.T. was starving, and since there was no better cook than his mom, he’d wholeheartedly agreed to stop by for lunch before heading over to his place.

  He trudged up the pathway toward the Tudor style house he’d grown up in and noticed right away that his father had repainted the trim. It was now a rich chocolate brown that contrasted nicely with the light mocha colored stucco. The leaves on the two trees in the yard had started to turn from green to amber. Before long their branches would be bare as fall gave way to winter. J.T. had always loved this house and when he’d earned enough money playing ball to buy his own place, he’d chosen one much like it. Only his house was located in the Land Park section of town, not in the historic Fabulous Forties neighborhood where his parents lived.

  Just as he stepped onto the porch, the dark wooden door swung open and his mother greeted him with a warm smile. “I saw you pull up,” she said and gave him a hug. “Jake had to go out of town on business, but Josh is here. He and your dad went to the grocery store. I forgot ice cream, can you believe that?”

  “What about Justin?” He followed his mom into the foyer and closed the door behind him.

  “We haven’t heard from him in a while.” Sharon Sawyer frowned and tucked a loose strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear. “I think it has something to do with that undercover work he’s been doing.”

  His eldest brother was a cop—a career choice his mother had never been comfortable with. Not that he blamed her, law enforcement was risky, whether you worked undercover, or were on patrol and had to pull over some jerk-off who happened to have a gun and a disdain for the law. Both scenarios could be deadly.

  “What’s for lunch?” J.T. asked as they crossed the large open living room to the kitchen his parents had renovated about two years ago. It was most definitely a gourmet kitchen now, with its antique white cabinets, tin-pressed ceiling, Wolf range and Sub Zero fridge. It also had what his mother called a butler’s pantry, which to him was just a fancy name for a room to store all the stuff that didn’t fit into the kitchen cabinets.

  “Enchilada casserole,” she said, naming one of his favorite dishes. “It’s in the oven.”

  He grabbed a green apple from a large white bowl on the countertop and took a bite. He chewed and then grinned at the exasperated expression on his mother’s face. “What? I’m hungry.”

  “You’ll spoil your appetite.”

  “When has that ever happened?”

  She gave him a wry smile. “That’s true. We didn’t nickname you the human garbage disposal for nothing.”

  J.T. chuckled, rounded the counter and slid onto one of four stools on the other side. “Anything going on I should know about?” he asked, then took another bite of the tart apple.

  Sharon went to the refrigerator. “Josh and Cindy broke up,” she said as she opened the door and pulled out a head of lettuce and a bag of tomatoes.

  “What?” J.T. inhaled sharply and then started coughing as a small piece of apple got stuck in his throat. “When did that happen and why didn’t I know about it?” he asked after he’d dislodged it.

  “Because it happened last night.”

  “Who did the dumping, Cindy or Josh?”

  “Cindy.”

  “Shit.” J.T. shook his head. “Josh must be crushed. They’ve been together since their freshman year in high school.”

  His mother closed the frid
ge door with her hip and moved to the sink. She set the vegetables on the counter and turned to look at him. “Evidently, Cindy couldn’t handle a long distance relationship. I was afraid this might happen when she chose to go to Boston College instead of staying here and going to UCD with Josh.”

  “How’s he taking it?”

  “Not well. That’s why I sent him to the store with your father. It seems he has the knack for putting things into perspective for you boys more than I do.”

  He grinned at her. “Don’t sell yourself short, Mom.”

  “I’m not. I married him, didn’t I?” His mother laughed. “I picked a good man to be the father of my sons.” And with that, she got busy washing the lettuce and the tomatoes.

  As J.T. finished his apple, he wondered what his father would say when he told him about the baby. Under normal circumstances, his parents would be overjoyed at the news. But getting a woman he barely knew pregnant wasn’t normal circumstances. Both he and his parents had expected him to marry before having kids. Shit. Their disappointment would be tough to bear.

  A short time later, as he passed through the living room to go to the bathroom, he glimpsed his father’s Jeep Cherokee parked behind his truck. Curious, he moved to the window and saw his father and his brother in deep discussion by the side of the SUV. By the devastated expression on Josh’s face, it was obvious he was hurting. He was only nineteen and Cindy had been his one and only girlfriend—this break-up would be tough for his brother to bounce back from. After a few moments, Joe Sawyer drew Josh into a hug. J.T. didn’t have enough fingers to count how many times his father had been there for him and his brothers. Funny how he’d taken that for granted all these years.

  Just like he’d taken for granted that nothing would interfere with his career. Playing pro ball had been his dream from almost the first moment he’d picked up a baseball. From then until now he’d never allowed anything or anyone to distract him from his path. But how could he let Angie raise the baby on her own? A child deserved two loving parents, not just one who was there all the time, and another who sent checks to cover expenses. That wasn’t the kind of father he wanted to be.

  He’d love the baby. There was no question about that. But what about the child’s mother? Angie had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. It bothered him more than he cared to admit that she probably never would have spoken to him again if he hadn’t gotten her pregnant. And now, here he was, considering an option that would affect them both forever.

  Option. A hell of a word for a decision that would change his entire life.

  * * *

  Late Sunday afternoon, after finally finding a parking spot three blocks from her building, Angie crossed Filbert Street and wondered if she’d have to move out of her apartment. Although her landlord hadn’t raised her rent in four years, with only two weeks left until her last day with the Blaze, she had to find another job soon or there was no way she could afford to stay.

  As she sidestepped a trio of track-suited women power walking, her cell phone rang. Shifting the handle of her grocery bag from one hand to the other, she pulled the phone from her purse and glanced at the caller ID. Although she didn’t recognize the number, she answered it anyway; it could be her sister calling from one of her friends’ phones.

  “I’ll be in the city on Thursday,” J.T. said after she’d said hello. Her pulse quickened at the sound of his voice. It irritated her that she wasn’t immune to him, and that a few measly words elicited a physical reaction she couldn’t control. “We need to talk. Where can we meet?”

  He certainly got right to the point, didn’t he?

  “How about Kamu’s?” she suggested. It seemed like a safe choice. And after all, safe choices were her specialty.

  “Too public. We need to talk in private.” He paused. “I don’t have access to the condo now that the season’s over. How about your place?”

  “My place?” she echoed and stopped walking. A car slowly passed; no doubt the driver was trying to find a parking place. Good luck with that. Parking in her neighborhood was tighter than a pair of Spanx.

  “Yes. Where do you live?”

  “North Beach.”

  “Okay. Text me your address and I’ll be there at six on Thursday night if that works for you.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “I’ll see you then,” he said and then there was silence. He’d hung up.

  Angie’s mind swirled with turmoil as she shoved her phone back into her purse and resumed the trek toward her car. She didn’t think she’d hear from J.T. so soon. What did he want? And why did he seem so anxious to talk to her? Was he going to take her to court for custody of the baby?

  Unfortunately, she’d have to wait four days to find out.

  Chapter Three

  Just before noon on Thursday morning, Angie was so engrossed in paying invoices that she flinched and let out an involuntary gasp at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. Her heart pounded double-time as she swiveled her chair around and found her boss, Dina, standing at the entrance of her cubicle. Dina’s easy smile was nowhere to be seen. Instead her expression was somber and her eyes serious.

  “You don’t have to do this, Angie,” Dina said in the soft Tennessee drawl she’d never managed to lose despite moving to San Francisco twenty years ago.

  Angie leaned back in her chair. “It’s my job for a little while longer. I wouldn’t feel right not coming in.” It also gave her something to do other than obsess about the baby and her meeting with J.T. at six.

  Dina’s shook her head and lowered her voice. “Your work ethic is remarkable. I hate that we had to lay of four employees by seniority instead of by work performance.”

  “Me too.”

  “I meant what I said last week. The minute a position opens up, it’s yours.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “And if you have a lead on another job, or get an interview before your last day, don’t worry about coming in. I don’t want you to miss any opportunity that may come up.” Dina pulled off her glasses and slipped them into the pocket of herred cardigan. “Oh, and I’d be happy to write a letter of recommendation, or talk to any prospective employer. You’ve been a model employee and you’d be an asset to any organization.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled at the woman she’d admired from the first moment they met. “That means a lot coming from you.”

  After Dina left, Angie turned back to her desk and stared at the drab cubicle wall. She didn’t realize she was digging her fingernails into her palm until she felt a sharp pain shoot up her arm. Relaxing her fingers, she tried—for the umpteenth time—to make sense of what was happening. She’d never been fired or laid off from a job in her life. Just the opposite—she’d always received glowing performance evaluations, and when she’d left her previous job to work for the Blaze, they’d begged her to stay. People like her didn’t get laid off.

  To her surprise, she hadn’t cried. Not once. Instead she was numb—probably from the shock of it all. Three other front office employees had received the same bad news she had. Now there were four more people out of work in a job market that was more competitive than ever. Finding another position was going to be difficult and to make it even harder, she was pregnant. Who would want to hire someone who would go out on maternity leave after six months? Oh, they weren’t supposed to discriminate, but employers did it all the time, especially when there were hundreds of applicants for one open position. They could afford to be choosy and honestly, she didn’t blame them.

  The writing was on the proverbial wall. She was screwed.

  Thirty minutes later, instead of eating in the Blaze’s cafeteria, she finally gave into a craving for pizza and walked across the street to Kamu’s. They made an excellent personal sized pizza, which she planned to have them load with extra pepperoni and a ton of olives. She’d been craving olives too. It had to be the pregnancy. Lately, she’d wanted to devour the oddest things.

  Just a
s she’d finished the last of her pizza, her cell phone rang. After a quick wipe of her fingers on her napkin, she pulled it from her purse and—because she’d programmed his number into her cell—her heart skipped a beat when she saw that it was J.T.

  “Did you get my text?” she asked, forgoing a greeting.

  “Yep. I got directions off the internet so I should be there on time,” J.T. said in a low, smooth voice that didn’t do a thing to stop her pulse from racing.

  Whatever J.T. had to say must be important for him to make the ninety-minute trip from Sacramento to San Francisco. Too important for a phone conversation, it seemed. These days most people preferred to share their most important thoughts through mobile devices rather than in person. Yet she almost wished he wanted to have their discussion over the phone—having it in person meant she would have to keep her physical reaction to him in check, and being able to do that after having had sex with him was damn near impossible.

  “The parking in my neighborhood is practically non-existent. You may have to drive around a bit.” She reached for a stray olive on her plate and popped it into her mouth. She didn’t remember olives tasting this good. Would she still like them after she had the baby?

  “No worries. I’m sure I’ll find something.” He paused. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. Except I’m craving a few things I don’t normally eat.”

  “Like what?”

  “Pizza. Olives. Oh, and pie.”

  “Cherry pie is my favorite,” J.T. said. “At the holidays my mom usually makes one just for me to take home.”

  Great idea. Angie reached for the dessert menu. If they had pie maybe she’d order one and take it home with her. Within seconds though, reality set in as she mentally calculated the calories in an entire pie. She returned the menu to its place between the salt and pepper shakers. “I hope this craving thing goes away soon.”

  “Why?”

  She put her hand on her stomach. “Because if it doesn’t I’ll be as big as a house.”