Catching Heat

by Alison Packard

  “I doubt that.”

  “You’re not the one eating like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “Point taken,” J.T. said with amusement. “I’ll see you tonight, Angie.”

  “See you.”

  After she’d put away her phone, Angie tried not to think about J.T. but it was a losing battle. She’d been trying not to think about J.T. Sawyer for going on two years now, and yet he was still the star of every single one of her fantasies. Fantasies that had only gotten more explicit ever since she’d shared his bed.

  At ten minutes before six, Angie sat primly on the royal blue couch she’d reupholstered a few months before. Across from her, in front of the white brick fireplace, were two blue and yellow striped chairs, also her handiwork. There was a lemon yellow area rug laid over the hardwood floor and the accessories she’d chosen were blue and white. Angie loved her cozy apartment, but this room was her favorite. She’d seen something similar in a decorating magazine and over the past year transformed it into her own vision. The final result was everything she’d imagined and more: a calm and peaceful retreat where she could relax after a long day of looking at invoices and spreadsheets.

  At the moment she wasn’t feeling at all calm or peaceful. Her sweaty palms and shaky knees were reminiscent of the apprehension she’d experienced just before her first date in high school. Only now there was no awkward teenage boy about to knock on her door to escort her to the movies. J.T. probably never had an awkward day in his life. And why would he? With his devastating good looks and successful athletic career, awkward wasn’t even in his vocabulary.

  The sharp rap on her door startled her even though she’d been expecting it. Putting a hand to her chest—as if that could stop its frantic beating—she rose from the sofa and moved to the small foyer between the living room and the hallway that led to the kitchen. After unlocking the deadbolt, she opened the door and all the air sucked out of her lungs.

  Whoa. Talk about man-candy.

  It wasn’t even remotely fair for one man to be so gorgeous. But he was. He’d trimmed his golden brown hair but it still fell in reckless layers to just above his collar. He had a day or two’s growth of stubble on his lean jaw, but on him it didn’t look grungy—more like sexy as hell. His sport coat appeared to be bronze, but upon closer examination, was made of different strands of neutral threads that came together to give it that particular hue. His shirt was brown with thin white stripes and was open at the collar, affording her a glimpse of the tanned supple skin of his neck. He wore jeans, but not the faded ones he’d been wearing the last time she’d seen him. These were newer but fit him just as well.

  If that teenage boy who had been her first date all those years ago had been as hot as J.T. she probably would have let him kiss her at the end of the evening. On second thought, she probably would have let him do a lot more than that. Second or third base for sure.

  “Hey.” One word, yet the way he said it, all husky like, made her heart do somersaults.

  Angie stared at him in stunned appreciation. It was as if a god from Mt. Olympus had left his lofty perch and ended up here, with her—an ordinary mortal in dire need of a facial, a haircut and a bikini wax. She took a breath to try to steady her heart. It didn’t work.

  After several seconds of silence he tilted his head and regarded her quizzically. “May I come in?”

  “Oh. Yes.” Flustered, she opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

  Once he was inside, she drew in another deep breath, closed the door and turned to face him. “Would you like something to drink? I have water or iced tea. I used to have beer but since I can’t drink now I didn’t buy any when I did my grocery shopping.” Great, just great. She was rambling like a damn fool. As Grandma Sophia used to say—she was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

  “No, thanks.” J.T. followed her to the living room, then stopped and let his gaze rake the room. “Nice place.”

  “Thank you.” She motioned with her hand. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “Sure.” J.T. moved with athletic grace to the couch, the warm, clean scent of either his soap or cologne lingered in the air and teased her senses. As he sat down, Angie moved to one of the chairs opposite him and sank down on its plump cushion.

  He leaned back and gave her a conspiratorial grin. “So were you able to resist buying that pie this afternoon?”

  “No.” She smiled and smoothed her hands over the hem of her dress. She hadn’t had time to change and was still wearing the outfit she’d worn to work. “I ordered a slice to go and ate it at my desk on my last break. It was delicious.”

  J.T. let out a low laugh. “I thought pregnant women were supposed to crave pickles and ice cream.”

  “So far I haven’t wanted either. Maybe that’s an old wives tale.” She clasped her hands together on her lap, unable to think of anything else to say. The somewhat uncomfortable silence stretched on for several seconds.

  “You’re probably wondering why I wanted to talk to you,” he finally said as the humor in his eyes all but vanished.

  Alrighty then. The small talk was over. It was time for the main event. Nerves danced in Angie’s stomach. “It can only be about the baby.”

  “It is.” J.T. nodded. A lock of his hair fell carelessly to his forehead and he reached up to brush it back. She’d done that the night they’d spent together, brushed his hair away from his eyes, just before he’d kissed her for the first time. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since you told me.”

  “Me too,” she said, trying to force the image of that kiss from her mind. The only problem—a kiss that amazing was hard to forget.

  “First, I’d still like a paternity test.” He held up his hand as she opened her mouth. “Hear me out. It’s just a formality and one that my attorney will insist on.”

  “I don’t want your money, J.T.,” she said and clenched her hands together so tightly she winced. “I told you about the baby because it was the right thing to do.”

  “I understand.” His tone was measured, as was his gaze. “This is an unexpected and difficult situation. I think we both want to do the right thing. And to that end, I want you to know that I’m not going to walk away from my responsibilities as a father.”

  J.T. leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. The move emphasized his broad shoulders and strong arms. Another memory surfaced; her body grew warm as she remembered him picking her up in those strong arms and carrying her to his bedroom. She shook it off. Now was not the time to be thinking about sex. Sex was what had gotten her into this predicament in the first place.

  “That’s good to know. I’m sure we can work out some sort of visitation schedule.”

  His brows knitted. “I don’t think you understand. I want to be a full-time father to my child.”

  “Full-time?” A ping of alarm erupted in her chest. She straightened in the chair and tensed. “What does that mean? Are you going to try to take my child from me?”

  “No.” J.T. hesitated for a moment, then seemed to choose his words carefully. “But I believe I have a solution to our problem.” He cleared his throat, his eyes somber as he held her gaze. “Marriage.”

  “Marriage?”Stunned, Angie’s mouth gaped open. “As in you and me? Are you crazy?”

  * * *

  Taken aback by Angie’s incredulous response, J.T. scowled. “No. I’m not crazy.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “Because the idea of the two of us getting married is insane.”

  Ouch. That stung. Even though she was more right than not. “Why?”

  “Shall I count the ways?” She held up her hand. “We’re not in love.” She ticked up a finger, then another. “We only slept together that one time, and—”

  “Twice, and we weren’t sleeping,” he reminded her with a grin.

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and held up another finger. “We’re practically strangers, and…” she pointed at him, “…you’re a…a b
allplayer.”

  She’d said ballplayer with the same tone one would use to refer to a serial killer. This wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. He thought she might be relieved she didn’t have to raise the baby alone. Anger simmered inside him. His offer was damn chivalrous considering how marriage and impending fatherhood would cut into his training time. He rose from the couch and stared down at her. “Trust me, I understand your reservations, but I think the pros outweigh the cons.”

  She lifted her chin and gave him a look that clearly indicated he was out of his mind. “You’ve actually weighed the pros and the cons?”

  “Of course,” he said and began to pace back and forth. Just like he’d always done when faced with a difficult situation. Finding a resolution to any problem always seemed easier when his blood was circulating.

  “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “I’m very serious.” J.T. stopped pacing and swung around to meet her incredulous gaze. “I don’t want my child to be born out of wedlock.”

  “What is this? 1950?” Angie pushed up from the chair, treating him an excellent view of her toned legs. “Who even says wedlock anymore?” she asked as she moved to the window and pulled back the curtain to peer out into the dark night.

  J.T. scowled at her back. “I just said it, so I guess I do.”

  Despite his irritation, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was obvious she liked the color blue. Her living room was predominantly blue, and she was wearing a short blue dress that matched her eyes and showed off her curves to perfection—especially her breasts, which were full and firm. Her long spiral curls were loose, almost begging to be touched. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze. This was not the time to be thinking about her hair, her body, or the soft sounds of pleasure she’d made the night they’d spent together.

  “Considering the circumstances, it’s a good thing you broke off your engagement with Steve.”

  “Scott.” Angie turned from the window. Jesus. She had beautiful eyes. Eyes a man could lose himself in. “His name is Scott and I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Fine by me,” he said, relieved there was no fiancé involved to complicate matters and make it more difficult for him to convince her to marry him. And after a long deliberation on the aforementioned pros and cons, that’s exactly what he intended to do. Still, a small part of him wondered if he was making the biggest mistake of his life. His dream of dedicating his entire off season to training was becoming less of a reality as each day passed. But each time he considered throwing some money at her and seeing his kid only once or twice a month, he thought of his father. Joe Sawyer would never do something so cowardly. “Maybe it was for the best. Now you’re free to marry me.”

  “I’m not marrying you, J.T.,” she said firmly. “But I appreciate that you want to do the right thing.”

  “The baby needs a father,” he insisted, not bothering to mask his exasperation.

  “I’m not denying you the chance to be an involved father. We can work out visitation, I know we can.”

  “I believe a child should have two parents raising him or her,” he said, not willing to give up, although it would be the easy way out. Once he made up his mind to do something, he usually did it. And he’d made up his mind to marry Angie DeMarco. There was no way he was going to let Angie bear the brunt of their careless mistake all by herself. His conscience and his upbringing wouldn’t allow it.

  “That’s a nice sentiment. But in our case, it’s just not possible.”

  “I can provide a nice life for you and the baby.”

  “I’m sure you can but I don’t need anyone supporting me,” she said and then hesitated before brushing her hair back and continuing, “My mother raised me and my sister almost singlehandedly. I know it’s going to be tough, but I can do it.”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” He’d learned one thing about her tonight—she was stubborn. “I should go. But will you do me a favor and think about it? Together we can give this baby a good life.”

  She put her hands on her hips, her impossibly blue eyes flashing with annoyance as she glared at him. “Are you insinuating I can’t do that on my own?”

  Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. Damn. He was doing this all wrong. “No. Not at all. But will you at least consider it? I think we could make this work.”

  “How? You don’t love me, and I don’t love you.” She blew out a heavy breath. “That’s not a good atmosphere for any child to grow up in. Trust me, I know.”

  J.T. moved toward the door. If he stayed much longer he was afraid he’d start to badger her and that would only make things worse. All he could do was hope that she’d think about what was best for their child and agree to marry him. Two parents were better than one, he firmly believed that.

  He opened the door and stepped onto her small porch. The pungent aroma of garlic wafted in the air; his mouth watered even though he wasn’t hungry. North Beach was famous for its Italian restaurants. He’d sampled a few of them during his tenure with the Blaze and had never once been disappointed.

  Turning, he reached for her and caught her hand. A simple gesture, yet the warmth of her skin against his palm filled him with yearning so intense it caught him off guard. He focused on her questioning gaze and forced himself to remember the reason why he was here. “I meant what I said, Angie. Think about the baby. What we could give her together is so much more than what we could give her apart.”

  “Her?” One delicate dark brow lifted. “You want a girl?”

  He searched her beautiful face. “Yes. If she looks like you.”

  Now where the hell had that come from?

  Angie’s eyes softened. “Okay. I’ll think about.”

  “That’s all I ask,” he said and relinquished her hand before he gave into the need to pull her against him and kiss her like he had the night of her softball game. “I’m staying at Matt’s until Saturday when he and Kelly get back from Santa Monica. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter Four

  Late Saturday morning, Angie sat across from Kelly at Angie’s kitchen table and absently dunked an herbal teabag in and out of her cup. Angie hadn’t been surprised that her friend had dropped by as soon as she and Matt returned from their vacation. Kelly had a well-deserved take-no-prisoners reputation, but underneath it all, she had a big heart and would do anything for her friends and family.

  “Have you told J.T. about the baby?” Kelly asked as she pushed her cup aside and folded her arms on the table.

  “Yes. He offered to marry me.”

  Kelly’s brows shot up in surprise. “And your answer was?”

  “My answer was no.” Angie lifted her chin. “I told him I’m raising the baby on my own.”

  “Angie,” Kelly began softly. “Is that feasible now that you’ve been laid off?”

  “Probably not,” Angie said, feeling just as hopeless as she had when Dina informed her of the layoffs. “My health insurance expires at the end of the month and the cost to buy it myself is much higher than I expected. Then there’s my rent, and my car payment. I can file for unemployment, but I don’t think it’ll be enough to cover everything. I need to find a job, and soon.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “I can’t ask her for help. She’s struggling as it is.” Angie scowled as she thought of the reason why her mother lived from one meager paycheck to the next. “My sister is only able to go to college next fall because she got a scholarship.”

  “Does it pay for everything?”

  “Everything except books, which are outrageous. Even used ones are expensive. I’d planned to help with that, but now I don’t think I can.”

  “What about J.T.’s offer?” Kelly asked. “How do you feel about it now?”

  All throughout an extremely long and sleepless night, Angie had done nothing but think of J.T.’s proposal and how it was a viable option despite the fact that that they didn’t love each other. But then, she
hadn’t loved Scott and she’d been more than willing to marry him. So what was the difference? Stupid question. She knew exactly what the difference was. She’d never been in danger of losing her heart to Scott, but she was definitely in danger of losing it, and whole a lot more to J.T. Sawyer.

  And that could never happen.

  * * *

  When the front door opened, J.T. muted the college football game he’d tried to distract himself with. From his vantage point on the dark brown couch, he turned to find Matt standing in the doorway with a black duffel bag clutched in his hand.

  “How was your trip?” J.T. asked, and tossed a half-eaten bag of corn chips on the coffee table.

  “No complaints.” Matt closed the door and dropped the duffel on the entryway floor. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”he asked as he hit a switch on the wall. The darkened room filled with light.

  J.T. shrugged. “Too lazy to get up and open the blinds, I guess. Where’s Kelly?”

  Matt rounded the couch and sat down on the other end, his attention on the television. “She dropped me off out front, but she’ll be back later. Who’s winning?”

  “Michigan.”

  J.T. turned his attention back to the screen and hit the remote to unmute. For a good five or ten minutes he and Matt watched the game in companionable silence.

  “How’s the training going?” Matt asked when the game broke for halftime.

  “Not good,” J.T. admitted. “Something unexpected came up.”

  A frown marred Matt’s face. No doubt Matt was thinking he’d blown off his training to sit around and do nothing. Which wasn’t the case at all. He wasn’t blowing it off. He’d just been too preoccupied with impending fatherhood and all its implications to do anything more than go on a few runs. He’d hoped the sound of his footsteps echoing in his ears would help him forget his problems, but no such luck. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t outrun his jumbled thoughts.

  “Angie’s pregnant,” he blurted out with a sense of relief. Keeping it bottled up inside him had been a lot harder than he thought it would be. He’d almost spilled his guts to his father and to his brother, Jake. But as hard as it was, he’d kept quiet. He couldn’t bear to see their disappointment—not just yet. “It’s my kid,” he added in case Matt had any doubt.