“Oh, really?” she responded, trying to sound interested though she couldn’t care less.
Mariella recalled that for Josh’s birthday they spent the day at the beach and then went to his favorite restaurant. She couldn’t afford Waikiki, and most of her savings was going to his college fund, but at least he hadn’t spent all day in his room.
Leslie slipped her sunglasses back over her eyes. In the haze of her dark lenses, Mariella could almost feel a verbal jab coming on, like a nasty cold.
“You look so young to have a teenage son,” Leslie said, her tone riddled with vague condescension. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s your secret?”
Mariella clenched her toes in her sneakers, uneasy about the question, even though she’d been asked it by nosy people throughout Josh’s life. It was nobody’s business then, and it sure as hell wasn’t Leslie’s business now.
One didn’t have to peer close to see the crow’s feet at the edges of Leslie’s eyes, and Mariella felt blessed to have the type of skin that aged well.
She pasted on a smile and tapped the brim of her baseball cap. “I stay out of the sun.”
“In California? Good luck!” Leslie said with a burst of laughter, followed by a dramatic sigh. “Well, I guess the Big Island is still fabulous in March.”
Mariella fought the urge to roll her eyes at Leslie’s aggrieved tone. At the low sound of sporadic clapping, she lifted her chin and held back a frown as she watched Josh half run, half limp away from the goal.
Leslie followed her gaze. “Are you sure he’s ready to play so soon after the accident?” Her voice was almost a whisper as if she was afraid Josh could somehow overhear.
Despite a firm assurance from the doctor, it was the same question Mariella wrestled with day after day, night after night. But she wasn’t about to reveal her worries and woes to Leslie.
She forced a smile, as she had so many times in the past few months, in spite of the pain of seeing her son combat his injury.
She had to help him triumph.
“Dr. Hamilton gave him the all-clear.”
Leslie lifted her thin nose into the air. “Just because he’s the father of the mayor’s wife, doesn’t mean you have to believe everything the man says. You should get a second opinion.”
About to put her Mama Bear gloves on, Mariella bit back a sharp retort that could have had tongues wagging in Bay Point for weeks.
“Josh is fine, Leslie. But thanks for inquiring.”
“If you say so,” she replied.
She jogged in place, wishing Leslie would just go away, but the woman flashed a conspiratorial grin.
“But I’ll tell you who definitely is fine...the new soccer coach,” she blurted. “If we gals have to suffer in the stands, at least we’ve got some eye candy this season.”
There was no way Mariella was going to tell her she’d already met Sam several days earlier, so she feigned ignorance.
“Oh, yes, I read an article about him in the newspaper.”
Leslie waved her comment away. “I knew about him for weeks.”
“How did you find out before everyone else?”
She frowned as if she couldn’t believe she was asked the question.
“Don’t worry about it, Mariella. Unlike that old coot Maisie, I have access to real, legitimate information that matters. Like hot new arrivals to our little town.”
Maisie was the unofficial matriarch of Bay Point. People sought her out and told her things because they trusted her to listen. As far as Mariella knew, she always used her information to help, not hurt. She wasn’t an “old coot;” she was a valued member of the community.
Mariella’s fingers shook with anger as she adjusted the band on her upper arm that held her smartphone.
Maisie was driving home from the grocery store when she witnessed Josh’s bike accident and called 911. She also organized meals with her church group and had them delivered to Mariella’s home. She would never forget what Maisie had done for her and Josh, and hoped to someday repay the favor.
“I had no idea who he really was,” Leslie continued as if Mariella wasn’t even there. “I really don’t pay attention to the sport.” She licked her lips. “But now that I know what he looks like, I sure wish I had.”
“Hot new arrivals?” Mariella repeated. She cocked a brow and kicked at a few pebbles with the toe of her right shoe. “Don’t forget, you’re married to one of the most successful men in town.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean a girl can’t look.”
Leslie fanned her hand in front of her face. “And, honey, when I look at Sam, mine eyes have seen the glory!”
Mariella held back a smile, watching Leslie act like an overgrown teenager, and was determined to keep the gaga factor in check.
“We’ve already had some private conversations,” she confided in a tone meant to incite curiosity, but Mariella refused to bite.
Leslie winked as if sharing a secret. “Here comes the man himself, and because I’m your friend, I’ll let you have a turn.”
She walked away, without saying goodbye, of course.
“You are not my friend,” Mariella muttered when she was out of hearing distance. But she wouldn’t want her for an enemy, either.
She slid her sunglasses on and turned her attention to Sam. Clad in dark blue shorts and a Titans polo shirt, he could have been a model for a men’s fashion magazine. The only clue he was a coach was the whistle hanging around his neck.
He looked good far away, but she knew—and apparently, Leslie did also—he looked even better close up. She shook the thought from her head and watched him approach. He didn’t appear to be in too much of a hurry to get to her.
But as she continued to study him, she noticed that while his gait was confident, he did favor his left leg every once in a while. It was as if there was a hiccup in his step.
Growing impatient to see him, she decided to meet him halfway. No use in him thinking that she was an overblown diva like Leslie. Besides, she told herself as she jogged toward the middle of the field, her feet were itching to run away all her stress. About five feet away from him, out of breath, sweat trickling down her spine, with her legs about to collapse in a heap on the ground, she stopped in her tracks. Not because she was out of shape. She wasn’t.
It was the way he was looking at her. Even though he had dark sunglasses on, she could feel a haze of desire emanating from him, and this time, she wasn’t afraid.
* * *
The sight of Mariella...was a wonder. Better than the first time, yet still as powerful, like an unexpected punch in the gut. A sudden fishhook of attraction made breathing a little harder. The hair on his arms stood up even as he told himself to chill out.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Sam stopped for a few seconds, rolled his shoulders back and continued to walk to her, ignoring the slivers of pain darting through his left leg.
Her body appeared more athletic than he’d first noticed at the shop, probably because it was hidden under her office clothes. He thought about her being nestled against him, and cords of his back muscles furrowed and pulsed.
Today she wore black, body-hugging nylon jogging pants that ended at the ankle, orange-and-black running shoes, a tight fitting camisole top and a baseball cap.
Somehow, he managed to speak.
“Hello, Mariella. It’s nice to see you again.”
He loved the way her name rolled off his tongue.
He refused to call her Ms. or Mrs. Vency. She could correct him, if she chose. Somehow, he kept his hands planted against his sides, instead of reaching for her trim, little waist.
How easy it would have been to bring her body close to curve against his. If they were alone, and if it wasn’t for that darn contract.
Her skin gleamed in the hot sun, making his stomach q
uiver in an outlandish way, like he was on a roller coaster, click-clacking up a hill, not knowing what was on the other side.
Sam wasn’t afraid of heights. God, no. He wasn’t afraid of anything, except what this woman could mean to him.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
Dark sunglasses, the perfect cover. He could have been staring somewhere past her head, centering his attention on some imaginary dot in the distance, instead of the small circle of diamonds that hung on a thin gold chain just above the notch of her cleavage. He wondered who had given her such a sexy necklace.
His curiosity was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, much like his need for her. He figured he’d better get used to it. Hoping she couldn’t see his desire, and at the same time, wishing she could feel with her own hands how much he wanted her.
“I’m glad you showed up. Now, let me see. What position should I give you?”
His statement was unabridged flirtation, but no one was around. No one could hear. He hadn’t even played one game yet, and he was in danger of breaking his contract already.
Sam waited as she crossed her arms, anticipating her reaction. He didn’t expect amusement.
“I told you before that I’d make you lose. I told you I’m terrible at sports.”
“And I told you I would teach you.”
He smiled, hoping to dazzle her, but the look on her face was anything but. It was almost as if he’d gone over the line, and her deep frown was his penalty.
“I’m not important, Coach. But my son is. All I care about is whether or not Josh makes the team.”
Sam’s heart fell at the slight hardness in her voice. The fact that she’d addressed him so formally didn’t escape his attention, either.
He sighed inwardly, and wasn’t going to bother to flirt with her again. Maybe he’d read her wrong. It was clear from her tone he’d better stop while he was ahead, even though he didn’t get nearly as far as he wanted to.
“If he works hard, I don’t see why not. Tryouts will give me a good perspective.”
“I’ve always thought tryouts were so unnecessary. Why can’t those who played last season automatically be considered for the next?”
Now it was his turn to cross his arms, like a boss.
“It’s to make sure that the position each guy had last season is still the right one for him, the one he wants to play, and is good for the entire team.”
She rubbed her hands together. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Josh...” Her voice trailed off. “Limps a little sometimes. As I mentioned the other day, he was involved in a bike accident and his left knee was injured.”
He glanced back over one shoulder. The faces of his players were hard to see, their arms and legs blurred, little meteors of movement across the field.
“Which one is your son?”
Mariella laughed. “I’m sorry. I forgot you’ve never seen him in person. Josh is the one in the sky-blue shorts, and the Bay Point Titans team shirt, of course.”
He turned back. “No, I hadn’t noticed his limp. But then again, most of the players just arrived, and I haven’t had a chance to evaluate anyone yet.”
She sucked in a breath. “You won’t hold it against him, will you?”
He ran a thumb across his bottom lip, pausing a beat when he saw Mariella was watching him, looking doubtful.
“Not exactly.”
She folded her arms tightly against her chest. “What do you mean, not exactly? His doctor cleared him for sports. Surely you’ll take into consideration his—”
He held up a hand. “I treat everyone the same. Everyone gets the chance to succeed, or fail.”
It was what he wanted for himself, if he ever returned to pro soccer. He didn’t want his teammates feeling pity for him, making things easy. If he wasn’t ready to put one hundred and fifty percent effort into every game, like he had for almost ten years, then he wasn’t fit to be on the team, let alone playing a sport that demanded so much from him.
Mariella pursed her lips, reminding him of how kissable they looked. “I can respect that, just as long as Josh isn’t on the bench all season.”
“That’s up to him. I can’t guarantee that he won’t be on the bench. After all, it is the only place to sit on the field,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “But if he tries his best, and shows commitment to the team, he’ll do fine.”
Mariella frowned. “All I’m asking is for you to give my son a fair shot.”
“A fair shot?” he repeated. “A second ago you were practically begging for me to go easy on him.”
The ponytail on top of her head waved back and forth like a snake.
“I don’t want that. Not really. I’m just worried about him, that’s all.”
He took a chance and put his hand on her shoulder. Touched her just long enough and light enough to verify her skin was as warm and silky-smooth as he’d imagined. Best of all, she let him.
Sam lowered his voice. “I’ll take care of him,” he assured her, reluctantly pulling his hand away. “No worry lines on that beautiful face, okay?”
The edge of a smile appeared on her lips. “When will you be making your decision?”
“Sometime this week. We’ve got a game next Saturday, and I’ll need his final paperwork before he can play.”
“Just send it home with Josh and I’ll make sure to sign it.”
Mariella started to jog away, but he touched her arm again. She turned around, hands on her hips.
“If he’s hurting, he should tell me. I know what it’s like.”
She looked at him, her eyes softening, but she didn’t ask what he meant, didn’t ply him with questions.
Smart woman. No wonder he liked her.
Chapter 3
Mariella pulled the stopper and stepped out of the claw-foot tub. She watched the water swirl down the drain and hoped it would take her thoughts of Sam with it.
Seeing him at tryouts confirmed one thing in her mind. The man was either dangerous to her stable life, or the antidote for it.
She was drying off when the doorbell rang. Quickly, she hung up her towel and wrapped herself in her white terry-cloth robe.
Josh had called a little over an hour ago to tell her he was going to have dinner with friends after soccer practice. Maybe he’d changed his mind and decided to hang out with his mom instead, or more likely, his computer.
She tossed a rueful glance back at the vanity, where her homemade carrot and honey mask, and a stack of unread magazines, beckoned to her. Both would have to wait. Her son needed her.
“Josh, did you forget your keys again?” she shouted, padding downstairs in her bare feet.
She peeked through the curtain, and instantly wanted to melt face-first into the door. Instead, she unlocked and opened it wide.
She braced her shoulder against the jamb. “I didn’t know coaches made house calls.”
Sam had a way of making his standard uniform of long black shorts and a gold-and-blue Bay Point Titans T-shirt look naturally elegant. No whistle hung around his neck, but that was okay, because she was whistling at him in her mind. His skin was darker than when she’d seen him last. The long days spent in the sun made the hair on his arms and legs more obvious.
“And I didn’t know you were home. I was looking for Josh. Is he here?”
The smile he gave her was better than the most luxurious bubble bath. It slid around, under and through her, and made her tremble. But the tenor of his voice seemed overly professional, as if he wanted no misinterpretation, and that threw her off guard.
She clutched the top of her robe in her fist. “Oh. Josh told me he was going out with friends after practice.”
His eyes passed over her face, then midchest to her hands. “May I come in, anyway?”
She hesitated, remembering the heat that coursed
through her body just being near him in the store, and then on the soccer field. Now he was on her front steps, where it would be so easy to throw her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips. Instead, she dropped her hands and waved him inside.
He bowed slightly before entering, and her mouth twitched at his formality. Maybe she could curtsy her way into his heart, she mused as he followed her into the small living room.
“Sorry for the mess in here. As you can see, I’m getting ready to decorate for the holidays.”
Two small easy chairs were laden with old magazines and newspapers Mariella had found in the attic during the weekend, including back issues of the Bay Point Courier. She was fascinated by the history of the little town, but hadn’t read any of them yet.
Most of the weekend was spent digging through the boxes that held all of her decorations. There were sets of ceramic snowmen and snowwomen, Mr. and Mrs. Claus, poseable elves made of green felt, and colorful wooden nutcrackers in various sizes.
Sam weaved around the towers of boxes and joined her. “No problem. I take it you love Christmas?”
“Everything but the credit card bill afterward.”
The only other seating option available in the room was an antique love seat. She preferred more modern designs, and was slowly selling everything she didn’t like, except this one. It was so small she had no choice but to sit nice and close to Sam.
They sat down on the edge and swiveled toward each other. Their knees bumped, causing the flap of her robe to peel back. Part of her lower left thigh was exposed and she felt a kiss of cold air on her skin.
Mariella considered smoothing the fabric back in place, but didn’t want to call attention to something he may not have even noticed. How easy it would be to slip her robe from her shoulders, or allow him to do the honor. He’d notice then. He’d notice everything about her.
“This is cozy.”
Mariella smiled. “Henry Wexler calls it a settee. Did you ever get a chance to go into his store?”
“I did. I bought a beautiful antique silver tea set. Mum collects them and hates tea. Go figure.” Sam shrugged. “Even better. I’m renting Wexler’s upstairs apartment.”
Winning Her Holiday Love Page 4