Catching Heat

by Alison Packard

  If Matt was surprised, he didn’t look it. “I guess that would qualify as unexpected.”

  “We slept together the night you and I went to her and Kelly’s softball game.”

  “I figured as much.” Matt scratched his head. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Hold the fuck up. Why did Matt figure he’d slept with Angie? It wasn’t like he went around bragging about it or anything. Unlike some of his teammates, he was discreet when it came to what went on in his bedroom. Another thing he’d learned from his father: a gentleman never bragged of his conquests.

  “I offered to marry her but she turned me down.” J.T. hit the mute button again to silence the commercials. He hated to admit it, but a tiny part of him was relieved that things weren’t settled yet. It gave him more time to get used to the idea of being a husband and a father.

  “Isn’t she engaged?”

  “Not anymore.” He tapped the remote on his thigh. “I can’t just walk away. I need to be there for my kid.”

  “That’s commendable.”

  “I asked her to think about it, but I don’t think she’s going to change her mind. She wants to raise the baby on her own.”

  “That might be kind of hard.” Matt leaned back and put his feet on the coffee table.

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s out of a job. Kelly found out last week that Angie and three other front office employees were laid off.”

  “Laid off?” J.T. frowned. This was the first he’d heard of any layoffs. “Why? We just won the World Series.”

  “According to Kelly’s boss, the edict came down from the top brass and was in the works long before the post season.”

  “That sucks,” J.T. said, and wondered why Angie had been so quick to turn down his proposal when she was about to be unemployed. Maybe she had a trust fund, or another job lined up. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t decide if her refusal was a good, or a bad thing. The fog still hadn’t lifted from his brain. Nothing seemed clear right now. Except the morals his father had instilled in him.

  Matt gave him a measured look that, for some reason, reminded J.T. of his father. “Why do want to marry her?”

  “Because she’s having my baby. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “What other reason could there be?”

  Matt shrugged. “Beats me.”

  J.T. unmuted the television as the half-time reporters came back on. For a few minutes he and Matt watched, then J.T. hit the mute button again. “I’m not in love with her if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Why would you marry a woman you don’t love?”

  “She’s having my kid.” Jesus. How many times did he have to say it?

  “So? You can still be a father to your child. You don’t have to get married.”

  “Are you saying I shouldn’t marry her?”

  “No. But it’s a big step. You need to think about all of the ramifications.”

  “Like what?” J.T. shifted on the sofa to ease the crick in his neck.

  “Like what if you marry her and fall in love with someone else?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “How you can you be sure?”

  “I just am.” J.T. scowled. What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?

  “I don’t know, J.T. It sounds like you might have feelings for her.”

  “Well, I don’t. I just want to do right by her, and my baby.”

  Matt shrugged and turned his attention back to the football game. “If you say so.”

  “I do say so.” J.T. pressed his lips together, pointed the remote at the television and turned the sound back on. Matt was totally off base. The only reason he’d offered to marry Angie was because of the baby. There was no other reason. Especially not one that involved love. Yeah, so maybe he’d felt like he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, but that was physical attraction. He couldn’t love someone he barely knew. Love at first sight was impossible.

  No matter what his mother believed.

  * * *

  From her prone position on the couch—where she’d spent the majority of her Saturday after Kelly’s departure—Angie stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace. Although the day had been on the warm side, as soon as the sun had set and the fog had rolled in, the evening air turned chilly and she had to close the windows. The crackling fire heated the room just enough to forgo turning on the furnace. That alone would save money on her heating bill—something she now had to consider in light of her circumstances.

  Although it was the beginning of November, time had an annoying tendency to pass quickly when something ominous approached. She had enough money in the bank to cover December’s rent and her car payment, but that was it. Her landlord was a nice guy, but she doubted he would let her stay on out of the goodness of his heart. The apartment was darling and in a great neighborhood. He could rent it to someone else in less than a day.

  The thought of leaving her home was depressing, as was the thought of trying to find another job. Her daily online search hadn’t yielded many prospects but she’d dutifully followed the applicant instructions and applied. Maybe she’d get lucky and score an interview for one or both of the two positions she was qualified for.

  The rumbling in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten a thing all day. It was close to nine but she still wasn’t hungry. Maybe some chamomile tea would soothe her stomach and tide her over until tomorrow. Surely her appetite would return soon. She was eating for two—not eating wasn’t an option.

  She rose from the couch and then swayed as an odd feeling of lightheadedness swept over her. She reached for the arm of the couch and didn’t move until the dizziness passed. On second thought, perhaps a few saltine crackers with her tea were in order. Just to get something in her stomach.

  On her way to the kitchen the doorbell rang, shattering the silence and causing her heart to jump and then pound like a snare drum. Damn it. It was probably Mrs. Tenney. As much as she liked her upstairs neighbor, she wasn’t in the mood to talk. To ease her guilt, she made a silent promise to make it up to the woman tomorrow.

  Just as she made it into the kitchen, the doorbell rang again and a male voice called out, “Angie, it’s me.”

  Angie’s pulse kicked as she stopped in her tracks. J.T.? What in the world? Turning, she backtracked to the living room to unlock and open the door. The soft glow of the porch light illuminated J.T.’s face. He’d shaved—the sexy stubble was gone. But it didn’t matter. He was still a work of exquisite masculine beauty. With his looks and body, he could be on a billboard in Times Square modeling underwear.

  His gaze lowered and it was then she remembered she was a hot freaking mess. Her oldest pair of jeans and a faded lime green T-shirt were hardly her best look. And to add to her unsightly appearance, she wasn’t wearing a drop of make-up and her hair hadn’t seen a comb all day. On the plus side though, she’d showered. She had that going for her, at least.

  “What are you doing here?” Angie pushed her hair from her shoulders and tried not to be affected by the magnetic force of his presence. As usual, she failed abysmally. Just looking at him caused heat to sweep across her body and reminded her of one blazing hot August night. And by hot, she wasn’t referring to the weather.

  “I was heading back to Sac and decided to stop by before I left. I know I should have called, but I wanted to see you.” His eyes flickered with sympathy. “I heard about the layoffs. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and it became crystal clear why he’d shown up at her door. After next week she wouldn’t have a source of income. He knew that now and had to assume she’d been giving his offer serious consideration. He wouldn’t be wrong.

  “May I come in?” he asked politely.

  “Sure.” She closed the door after he brushed past her. His clean male scent trailed after him, invading her senses and triggering more erotic memories.
She quickly banished them and managed a smile. “I was about to make some tea. Would you like some?”

  “No, thanks. I’m not a big tea fan,” he said, following her to the kitchen.

  “Have a seat.” Angie waved her hand toward the small table in the corner of the kitchen. She’d found it at the San Jose flea market and painted it white. Her cabinets were also painted white and contrasted beautifully with the cheery yellow walls.

  J.T. lowered himself onto one of the chairs. It creaked a bit under his weight. “Why didn’t you mention the lay-offs when I was here the other night?”

  “I think I was still in shock. Or maybe it was denial.” Angie retrieved a cup from the cabinet and moved to the sink to fill it with water. Conscious of J.T. watching her, she moved from the sink to the microwave placed on a shelf above the stove. Her kitchen was small. J.T.’s virile presence filled the confined space, making her supremely aware of him. “I’ve always had a job and been able to support myself. This whole thing has thrown me for a loop.”

  “I’ll bet,” J.T. said as she grabbed a teabag from a box on the counter and then pulled a spoon out of the drawer.

  “I just can’t get over the fact that I’m out of a job through no fault of my own.” The microwave beeped. She opened it and carefully took the cup out, and after dropping the teabag into it she moved to the table and sat down across from him.

  “Kelly said something about a seniority list?”

  “Right,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “It wasn’t about work performance at all. I was at the bottom of the list in my work unit so I got the ax.”

  “That’s rough.” J.T. folded his arms on the table. As she submerged her teabag into the hot water with her spoon, Angie’s gaze was drawn to his forearms. They were tanned from the sun and sprinkled with light brown hair. Her fingers itched to touch his skin and feel the power of those corded muscles beneath her fingertips. Just as she had the night they’d spent together. For weeks afterward, she’d relived every moment of that night. The feel of her soft body juxtaposed with the hardness of his, the urgency of his lips on hers and the masterful way he’d possessed her—as if branding her his forever.

  “So you said you’ve thought about my proposal.”

  Angie jerked her gaze to his and to her mortification, hot blood rushed to her cheeks. What would he think if he knew she’d been imagining them entwined together on his bed indulging in their mutual lust? Thank God he wasn’t a mind reader. She cleared her throat. “I have and you know what I think?”

  J.T. cocked his head. “No. What?”

  “I think it sounds like a plot right out of a romantic comedy.” When he frowned she continued, “You know. Guy gets girl pregnant, guy offers to marry her for the sake of the kid. It’s a standard plot.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I don’t watch chick-flicks.” He gave her an exasperated look. “What I do know is there’s an innocent baby involved now. It’s not just you and me, Angie. We have to think about what’s best for our child.”

  Our child. The words, unexpectedly, made her heart clench.

  “And what’s best for the baby is for us to get married?” Angie pushed her cup to the side. The tea had lost its appeal. “Two people who don’t know a thing about each other? Who spent one night together? It’s insane, and you damn well know it.”

  “Maybe it is.” J.T. leaned forward. “But I believe it’s worth the sacrifice. The baby comes first.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You think marrying me is a sacrifice?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said, his tone defensive.

  “Well, that’s what it sounded like,” she shot back and the air in the room grew taut with tension as they glared at each other.

  J.T. blew out a long breath, then pushed back in the chair. “All right then. Tell me what other options you have. You said you wanted to raise the baby on your own but you’ve lost your job. Do you have another one lined up?”

  “No.”

  “How long do you think it will take you to find one?”

  “I have no clue.” She shrugged. “It could be weeks, maybe months. The job market is really bad right now.”

  “Are there any relatives who can help you out?”

  “No. My mother is on a fixed income and my sister is still living at home until next fall when she goes to college. I can’t burden my mother. Not after what she’s been through.”

  When she didn’t elaborate, he continued, “How long can you stay here?”

  “Another month at the most.” A pit of hopelessness opened in Angie’s stomach. Her nice orderly life was a thing of the past. This was not supposed to happen—not to her.

  “Okay.” He paused, thankfully done with the third degree. “Then how about this. Why don’t you think about my proposal while you look for a job? I don’t want to pressure you. Just know that my offer stands.”

  Overwhelmed, all she could do was nod. This—all of it—was too much. If she could drink right now, she’d have a few stiff ones.

  “Why marriage?” she asked after regaining some semblance of composure. “There are several other ways we could parent this child and none of them involve marriage.”

  “That’s true, but the thought of not being the kind of father I want to be to my child doesn’t sit well with me. And because of my father, and the example he’s set, I take raising children seriously.” J.T. rose from his chair. “I’ll go and let you get some rest.”

  Angie got to her feet, then swayed as the lightheaded feeling she’d experienced earlier returned with a vengeance. “Are you all right?” J.T. asked, quickly moving to her side and putting his strong hands on her shoulders to steady her.

  Even in her woozy state, his touch sent a current of electricity straight through her. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to force herself to breathe. “I’m fine,” she whispered in a thick voice, much too aware of the heat emanating from his body. “I haven’t eaten today.”

  “Because of the morning sickness?”

  “No.” She took another deep breath and felt her equilibrium returning. “I wasn’t hungry. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure? I could make you something if you want. Some scrambled eggs?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. And she would be as soon as he left. His presence was playing havoc with her emotions and her senses. “Thank you, though.” She took a step back and breathed a sigh of relief when he was forced to let her go.

  Why this man, of all the men she’d ever met, elicited such a reaction in her was a mystery. Maybe it was because he was everything she’d been running from ever since she was twelve years old and had discovered what a man in his position was really like. What a cruel irony it would be to fall for someone like him.

  “You almost passed out. You need something in your stomach.” J.T. moved past her to the refrigerator. “It won’t take long.”

  Angie opened her mouth to protest but then thought the better of it. By the looks of things, J.T. wouldn’t be satisfied until he was sure she wasn’t going to faint from hunger. The best course of action would be to sit down and shut up.

  “Where are your pots and pans?” J.T. asked after retrieving a carton of eggs and a quart of milk from the fridge.

  “Bottom cabinet next to the stove. Right hand side.” Angie pointed as she lowered herself onto her chair. “There’s a non-stick skillet on top.”

  “That’ll work.” He set the eggs and the milk on the counter and bent to open the cabinet. Presented with an unobstructed view of his backside, Angie’s insides fluttered as she remembered cupping that fine ass and urging him on as he teased her with maddeningly slow thrusts. J.T. hadn’t been the only one with an urgent need begging to be sated. “I need a bowl,” he said, not looking at her as pulled the small skillet from the cabinet and set it on the stove.

  “Same cabinet. Left side. The utensils are in the drawer to the left of the sink.” She leaned back and began to relax. Although sh
e loved to cook, it was kind of nice to have someone prepare a meal for her. She reached for her tea and discovered it was still warm. Lifting the cup to her lips, she watched J.T. efficiently whisk two eggs and a dollop of milk together in a small mixing bowl. Would he cook for her if they got married? Stunned that she was even considering the idea, she swallowed her tea and set the cup on the table with unsteady hands.

  J.T. looked over his shoulder. “Do you want some toast with your eggs?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have much of an appetite. The eggs are fine.”

  “Okay.” He nodded and went back to work.

  Thirty minutes later, Angie swallowed the last bite of her eggs and set her fork on her plate. “I guess I was hungrier than I thought,” she admitted to J.T., who sat across from her. “Thank you for insisting I eat something.”

  He scanned her face with a satisfaction. “You’ve got some color back.”

  Angie was sure that had more to do with J.T. than the eggs. Her whole body seemed to come alive in his presence. Another reason why marrying him wasn’t a good idea. “I’m sure you want to get on the road.” She pushed her chair back and stood. Without looking at him, she picked up her plate and moved to the sink. After a quick rinsing of the plate and fork, she turned to find J.T. on his feet, watching her with unreadable eyes. “Thank you again,” she said, moving toward the hallway.

  “I’ll call you in a few weeks,” J.T. said as he followed her out of the kitchen. “But you have my number, so call me if you need anything.” He opened the door, stepped outside to the porch and turned to face her. He reached for her hand, just as he had the last time he was in her apartment. Like then, his touch was warm and reassuring, and for one brief moment she wanted him to enfold her in his strong arms and make her world right again. “I mean it, Angie. We’re in this together.”

  For no apparent reason, tears threatened to overtake her. It had to be pregnancy hormones. Yes, that was it. It couldn’t be the smidgen of tenderness she’d glimpsed in J.T.’s eyes. “I’ll be in touch,” she said, wiping at the corners of her eyes before she embarrassed herself completely.