Catching Heat

by Alison Packard

  Holding his father’s gaze, J.T. continued, “Angie and I made a mistake by not using protection, but we’ve decided that the baby comes first. And I want to be a full-time father to my child.”

  “I have to ask.” His father’s face was suddenly shadowed with suspicion. “You’re a professional athlete, you make good money. Is this girl trying to trap you into marriage? And are you sure it’s your baby?”

  “Yes, I’m sure, and she’s not after my money. In fact, Angie insisted on a pre-nup,” he said, not mentioning the other document he and Angie would be signing on Friday afternoon before getting their marriage license—the one spelling out their split after two years. “I hope you don’t mind that I consulted with another lawyer. It seemed like it might be a conflict of interest.” A prominent attorney, Joe Sawyer had an office in downtown Sacramento. It was a prestigious firm, staffed with several seasoned and well-respected attorneys.

  “I don’t care who did it as long as you protected yourself.” His father braced his hands on the countertop. “Are you sure about this? Is marriage really the answer?”

  “How can you ask me that?” J.T. looked from his father to his mother. “I won’t give my child anything less than what you two have given me. I know getting married like this isn’t the way any of us thought it would happen, but it’s the right thing to do. And I’m going to do it. For my child.”

  After another short silence, his mother squeezed his arm. He let out a breath of relief as she gave him a reassuring smile. She’d always been a glass half full kind of person and was probably already thinking of holding—and spoiling—her first grandchild. “We want to meet Angie as soon as possible. I know it’s short notice, but can she come for Thanksgiving?”

  J.T. shook his head. “She’s spending Thanksgiving with her family in San Francisco. Which is for the best considering every Sawyer in the county will be here tomorrow.” He wouldn’t put Angie through that just yet. The Sawyer clan could be a little intimidating—especially when they were all together in one place.

  Sharon nodded sympathetically. “That would be a bit overwhelming.”

  “She’ll be here early Friday afternoon and then we’re going over to the county clerk’s office to get the marriage license. Since there’s no waiting period or blood tests required we can get married right away.”

  “Where do think you’ll have the ceremony?” Judging by the tightness of his jaw, it appeared his father wasn’t as on board with the whole marriage thing as his mother seemed to be.

  J.T. shrugged. “Probably at the courthouse. Later next week.”

  “That’s not romantic,” Sharon said with a hint of disappointment.

  “Angie doesn’t want a church wedding. We want to do this with as little fanfare as possible.”

  Joe relaxed his rigid posture. “It sounds like you’re adamant on this course of action, but there’s still time to change your mind,” he said. “Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.” It only stood to reason that his father would be wary of Angie’s motives. Given his occupation, Joe Sawyer had met many untrustworthy people in his day. J.T. didn’t blame him for being suspicious. But it wasn’t like that. Angie hadn’t planned on getting pregnant and she’d requested a pre-nup. She wasn’t one of those greedy, status-seeking cleat-chasers who only went after ballplayers for money. She wanted what was best for their child, the same as he did.

  * * *

  The morning after Thanksgiving, Angie dropped the keys to her apartment and her mailbox into Kelly’s outstretched palm. Although she hated leaving the place she’d called home for several years, she was grateful her landlord had allowed her to sublet the place to Kelly, who’d been looking for a new place to live since September, after a falling out with her roommate.

  “I’m so glad I don’t have to do that commute from my parents’ house anymore.” Kelly slipped the keys into the pocket of her navy blue blazer.

  “Why don’t you stay with Matt?”

  “I do. Sometimes.” Kelly’s grin was mischievous. “But we’re not ready to move in together.” Her expression sobered. “Are you sure about this, Angie? Marriage is a big step.”

  “So is having a baby. And marrying J.T. is the best thing for everyone involved.” She manufactured a smile to ease Kelly’s mind. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Tears pricked her eyes as she let her gaze wander over the living room she’d worked so hard to decorate. She blinked and tried to be optimistic. Kelly had sublet the apartment for two years. Time enough for Angie to get back on her feet and return to her real life.

  “I promise to take good care of this place,” Kelly said, then gave her in a warm hug. “Call me if you need anything, or if you just want to talk.” She pulled back and surveyed Angie with undisguised concern. “And if you need my support at the wedding—or anytime—just let me know. I’m only a phone call away.”

  Angie blinked again, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I will. J.T. and I agreed on a small civil ceremony. I hope there aren’t a lot of people there.”

  “What about your mom and your sister?”

  Angie frowned. “I may call my mom when J.T. and I have finalized our plans. But she wasn’t too happy with my decision. I’m not sure she wants to be there. She wasn’t shy about telling me that I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.”

  Kelly regarded her quizzically. “Are you?”

  Marrying J.T. all the while knowing she would eventually leave him wasn’t her finest moment, yet she was going through with it all the same. She’d tried to ease her conscience by telling herself that she’d been more than generous with visitation rights after the divorce, and that she’d arrange for him see their child anytime he wanted, but for some reason there was this odd sense of guilt hanging over her head like a cold, dark cloud.

  “No,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. The biggest mistake of her life was sleeping with J.T. This was just the fall-out.

  Almost two hours later, Angie pulled her Jetta in front of J.T.’s house. As she got out of the car, she saw J.T. crossing the yard, heading straight for her. As usual, he looked gorgeous. He wore faded jeans and a pale blue vee-neck pullover sweater that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. Her pulse kicked at the sight of him. How in the world was she supposed to live in the same house with him and not want to have sex with him again? She was either insane, stupid, or a combination of both.

  “Hey.” He halted at the back of the car next to her, then tilted his head and stared at her mouth with such intensity it sent a delicious thrill up her spine. “You’ve got something…right here.” He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. Her stomach clenched and, like a serene pond as the first drops of rain fell upon its placid surface, ripples of awareness swept across her body and caused her to shiver. “Looks like chocolate.” He lifted his gaze to hers. The scorching heat in his eyes stole her breath. “Did you have another craving?”

  Yes, she had a craving. For him.

  Angie tried to speak but it was impossible. J.T. had immobilized her vocal cords with one touch. He gently rubbed her lip, then trailed his fingers to her cheek and leaned forward. Mesmerized by his caress, the darkening of his eyes and the warmth of his breath against her lips, she curled her trembling fingers around her key remote and then let out a gasp of surprise when the lid of the trunk popped open, startling them both. J.T. immediately pulled back and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Hot…hot chocolate,” she said in a voice that wasn’t at all steady. She lifted her hand to her lower lip and scrubbed, but it didn’t erase the feel of J.T.’s caress, or the fact that she’d wanted him to kiss her.

  It didn’t take long for J.T. to bring her suitcases and boxes inside the house. There had been no need to pack her linens or her dishes, Kelly would be using them. But now, as she stood in the middle of the barely furnished living room, Angie wished she hadn’t decided to leave her furniture in San Francisco. It would have
gone a long way toward making her feel comfortable in her new environment.

  On her last trip to Sacramento, J.T. said the rest of the house was just as bare. Where was she supposed to sleep? She eyed the couch warily. Was that her new bed?

  “Angie?” She whirled around to find J.T. holding one of her suitcases and watching her intently. He stood near the staircase she’d somehow missed when she was here before. Probably because she’d been too busy ogling that perfect ass of his. “Do you want to see your room?”

  “Sure.” Well, that answered that question.

  Angie followed J.T. up the stairs. When they reached the landing, he opened the first door they came to and allowed her to precede him inside. Like the living room, the space was sparsely furnished. It contained only a queen-sized bed covered with a blue and brown plaid comforter, a cherry wood dresser and a matching nightstand with a small brass lamp sitting atop it.

  J.T. set her suitcase down near the door. “When you said you weren’t bringing your furniture I went out and bought this stuff.” He motioned toward the bed with his hand. “If you don’t like it, we can replace it.”

  With what money? Her savings account balance had dropped to an all-time low.

  “It’s fine.”

  Doubt flickered in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

  She gave him a reassuring nod. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll go down and the get rest of your things.”

  As soon as J.T. disappeared, Angie surveyed the room. The walls were white—no surprise there. And just like downstairs, the room boasted a hardwood floor and crown molding. Its best feature was a bay window with a built-in window seat just below it. There was no cushion on the seat, but it would be a breeze to make one. She’d brought her sewing machine and it looked like she’d be using it. Although the decor lacked style, the room could be salvaged with a little ingenuity and Angie’s trusty Martha Stewart decorating books. Martha knew how to make any room look good.

  Moving to the window, she peered through the partially open blinds. Her bedroom overlooked the backyard and had a clear view of the swimming pool and adjoining hot tub. The trees, which had been overgrown when she was here last were now trimmed, as were the bushes. Beyond the pool there was a round brick fire pit with several Adirondack chairs surrounding it. It was the perfect yard for entertaining, or it would be if there were more seating options.

  “My parents would like to meet you.” J.T’s voice startled her. She turned to find him at the threshold holding her smaller suitcase and the antique wooden box that contained her most prized possession—her grandmother’s recipes. “They’ve invited us to dinner tonight—at their house.”

  Angie’s stomach churned as she brushed her hair from her shoulder. Of course she’d expected to meet J.T.’s parents, she just didn’t think it would be this soon. All things considered, she’d rather have a root canal. Subterfuge had never been one of her talents. She’d have to be extra careful not to slip up and say something to make them suspicious. She’d agreed to pretend the marriage was real. Would they be able to tell by looking at her that it was all one great big lie?

  “How’d they take the news?” She moved toward him and reached for the recipe box. Her fingers brushed against his as he handed it over. Goose bumps prickled her skin. Flustered, she stepped back and silently cursed her physical reaction to him. Day one and she was already reacting to his potent masculinity. Note to self: No touching. Accidental or otherwise.

  “They were surprised.” J.T. set the smaller suitcase next to the larger one. “But overall, they took it pretty well. How about your mom? How did she react?”

  Angie shrugged. “Like I expected. Not good.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” J.T. leaned casually against the doorframe. “What about your sister?”

  “She didn’t say much,” Angie said, thinking of Livvie’s shocked expression when she heard the news. “But she never says much anyway. She’s wrapped up in her school work and extracurricular activities.”

  “She sounds like my younger brother.” He paused. “I know it’ll probably take some time for you to feel comfortable here. If there’s anything you need, or want, all you have to do is ask.”

  After J.T. left her to unpack her belongings, Angie couldn’t help but think of another of her grandmother’s favorite sayings—every cloud has a silver lining. She hoped Grandma Sophia was right. A silver lining would come in extremely handy right about now.

  * * *

  Just before seven, Angie stood next to J.T. at the door of a Tudor style home very similar to his. To say she was nervous was an understatement. In the beginning everything had seemed so simple, but in reality carrying out this ruse was shaping up to be a lot tougher than she’d anticipated. His family would want to get to know her and that would entail spending time with them. That meant she’d have to keep them at arm’s length and be on guard at all times.

  Earlier in the afternoon, after she’d unpacked her clothes and toiletries, she and J.T. had driven to the county clerk’s office where they’d applied for their marriage license. The process had been fairly simple, and afterward they’d made an appointment for one of the judges to marry them. One week from today she’d be a married woman. A pregnant married woman. Talk about surreal.

  Smoothing her hair with one hand, she gripped the strap of her purse tightly with the other and waited for J.T. to ring the doorbell. When he didn’t, she turned and found him watching her with an amused glint in his eyes. “What?”

  “You look like you’re about to face a firing squad.” J.T.’s gaze roamed over her face. “They won’t bite. They’re nice people.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she said in a low voice. “How would you feel if you were meeting my mother for the first time?”

  “About the same.” An easy smile curved his lips. “Especially since you’ve alluded to the fact that, like you, she’s not fond of ballplayers.” He sobered and tilted his head, curiosity evident in his hazel eyes. “Why is that?”

  Angie waved her hand. “It’s not important.”

  J.T.’s intent gaze bored into hers. “Why do I think it is?”

  “I have no clue.” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter Eight

  The moment J.T.’s mother opened the door and greeted them with a warm smile, Angie’s tension eased. She’d prepared herself for the worst, but Mrs. Sawyer’s eyes were kind, and her expression welcoming. Perhaps the evening wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “Mom, this is Angie,” J.T. said before his mother had a chance to utter a word.

  “Of course, who else would it be?” Still smiling, Mrs. Sawyer motioned them inside with a wave of her hand. “Angie, I’m so happy to meet you,” she said, giving Angie an impromptu hug that surprised the heck out of her. As Mrs. Sawyer pulled back, Angie caught a comforting whiff of vanilla. Not only was J.T.’s mother an attractive woman, she smelled good too.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Sawyer.” Angie preceded J.T. into the foyer, supremely aware of his hand on the small of her back, solicitously guiding her forward. “Thank you for inviting me…I mean us to dinner.”

  “Please, call me Sharon,” she said as she closed the door. “I know the invitation was last minute, but I thought you might want a home cooked meal…” Sharon looked pointedly at her son, “…rather than take-out.”

  “I can cook.” Despite his defensive tone, humor lit J.T.’s eyes. It wasn’t hard to miss the obvious affection between mother and son.

  “Badly.”Sharon’s melodic laugh was infectious and despite her nerves, Angie couldn’t help but smile. Sharon moved forward, linked her arm with Angie’s and gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Trust me, unless it’s scrambled eggs and toast, you might want to avoid anything he cooks.”

  Just off the foyer was the living room and immediately Angie was impressed with the décor. The room was warm and inviting. A fire crackled in the fireplace, a
nd the furniture, though on the traditional side, wasn’t at all austere. Against the far wall was a vertical piano made of rich mahogany with open sheet music resting against the music rack—it appeared the piano was more than just a decorative item.

  “This is lovely,” Angie said, noting the lit sconces placed over the fireplace mantle. In between them was a family portrait. Angie let her gaze rest momentarily on a much younger J.T. Even back then he was beautiful. Teenage heartthrob material for sure. His brothers weren’t too bad on the eyes either.

  “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen it last night. We had to set up a table in here to accommodate the whole family. It was a madhouse.” Sharon paused. “Do you have a big family, Angie?”

  “No. It’s just me, my mom and my sister.”

  “Where’s Dad?” J.T. asked his mother, unknowingly but effectively changing the subject. Thank-you, J.T. The last thing Angie wanted was talk about her family. That usually led to questions about her father—a subject she tried to avoid at all costs.

  “In the backyard.”Sharon’s light blue eyes gleamed with amusement. “He begged me not to serve leftovers and offered to barbeque tri-tip. Why don’t you take Angie outside to meet him while I finish up in the kitchen?”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Angie offered quickly, hoping to stick close to J.T.’s mother. For some odd reason she felt comfortable with Sharon. “I could set the table.”

  Sharon gently squeezed her arm. “Thank you, dear, but I’ve got everything under control.”

  With J.T. following, Angie let Sharon guide her toward the back of the house. They passed through a formal dining room and ended up in the most amazing kitchen Angie had ever seen. Remodeled for sure, and loaded with the best appliances money could buy. The living room, as nice as it was, didn’t hold a candle to this room—probably because Angie loved to cook. She eyed the Wolf range with envy. Although J.T. didn’t have the same model in his kitchen, what he had was much better than the small efficiency stove in her apartment. If he didn’t mind her taking over his kitchen, she might try to do justice to Grandma Sophia’s recipes.