A horn honked behind her and she was captured in the glow of headlights. "Sweetheart, need a ride?"
Jesse "Romeo" Bellisaro pulled up beside her in a vintage turquoise Thunderbird. Jacy lifted a brow. "Widow Gates's car?"
Romeo's elbow jutted out the window. "Abigail asked me to take it for a spin. It hasn't been driven for years."
Jacy circled the hood and climbed in. She was glad for the ride. "How was the Senior Center?"
"Psycho danced with every lady there, including all six of Abigail's granddaughters. They played records. Old Sinatra. Chaser sampled all the baked goods, then drew promises from three of the ladies to send him care packages during spring training." He shot her a smile. "As for me, I got my ass kicked at checkers."
"You're a good sport, Romeo."
"I'm more than a pretty face." He drove easily, one hand on the steering wheel; the Thunderbird was the only car on the road at that time of night.
Jacy rolled down the window, let the cool night air lift her hair. She was tired, yet wired, still angry Stevie had been caught unaware by Aaron's announcement.
"How long have you known?" she asked Romeo.
He cut her a glance. "Known what, hon?"
"That Aaron was engaged to Natalie Llewellyn."
No flinching. No furrowed brow. His strong profile remained impassive, a slight twist to his lips. "I heard the announcement along with the crowd."
"Any league rumors?" she pressed. "Any locker room talk?"
"I'm not the man to ask," he said as they pulled to a stop in front of her house. To her surprise, Romeo leaned across the seat, his mouth a hairbreadth from her own. His heat played across her lips, as if he was about to make a move on her. "Ask Risk."
"Risk? No can do. He's—"
Romeo straightened. "Coming down your walk. Long strides. Pissed-off expression. The man's on a mission." He patted her thigh. "Out, sweetheart. I don't want to go a round with him."
She slid out and Romeo peeled off.
Risk met her at the curb. The sensual curve of his mouth was tight, his tone sharp. "What were you doing with Romeo?"
"He gave me a ride home."
"I swung by the stadium to pick you up, but Stevie said you'd already left."
"How was your date?"
He jammed his hands in his jeans pockets. "It wasn't a date. Sherry bought me when you refused to bid. She flew in from Atlanta for the charity auction. We went for drinks, then I dropped her off at her sister's. End of night."
"Did twenty-five grand entitle her to a kiss?"
Color crept across his cheeks. "We kissed."
"Enjoyably?"
"Sherry stuck her tongue down my throat and tried to hump my thigh. I pulled her off. Not a fun time."
"Stevie had the worst night of her life."
He shifted his stance, looking uneasy. "What happened?"
"Right after you disappeared with Sherry, Aaron announced his engagement to Natalie Llewellyn."
"Holy shit." His tone and the dip of his head were signs he'd heard the rumor, yet hadn't shared it with her.
She jabbed a finger at his chest. "You knew about the engagement and never said a word."
He looked heavenward and blew out a breath. "Aaron's proposal was rumored, but never confirmed. If I'd told you, you would have freaked."
"I'm freaking now. Stevie was humiliated."
"I'm sorry, babe."
He looked sorry, but after what Stevie had suffered, not sorry enough. "I'm not in a forgiving mood." She pushed past him but only made it halfway up the sidewalk before he caught her by the arm and spun her around.
His eyes were wild and his confusion and frustration hit her hard. "Not forgiving? Why the hell not?"
All words died in her throat. They had never fought before. She hated confrontation. Especially with a man she loved. "Because when you hurt my friend, you also hurt me."
"Stevie's my friend too. I've known her as long as I've known you."
"Friends share secrets."
"It was never a secret," he growled. "It was unconfirmed gossip."
When she remained silent, he released her. He breathed in deeply. Exhaled slowly. Then narrowed his green gaze on her once again. "What do you want from me, Jacy? How can I make it better?"
In the heat of her hurt and anger, she hit on a drastic measure. Celibacy would get his attention, which she relayed in the baseball lingo he'd understand. "Stevie's temporarily out of the game. Until she's back at bat, you won't be rounding my bases."
She turned then, and left Risk Kincaid and his stunned expression on the cracked sidewalk with his unshared secrets.
Chapter 4
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Jarred from her misery, Stevie Cole looked up from the kitchen table—a table littered with two flavors of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, strawberries dipped in chocolate, and enough silver Hershey Kisses wrappers to toss for confetti. A mug of hot cocoa grew cool, the marshmallows long since dissolved. Her high school and college yearbooks lay open, haunting reminders of her past.
Tap. Tap. Louder this time.
Zen Driscoll stood on the back stoop, visible through the almond-colored sheers. If she could see him, he could see her. Even if the only light came from the dim bulb above the stove. She cringed, then blushed. She'd been caught pigging out. Big time.
She debated sliding off her chair and hiding under the table, pretending to be invisible. Or crawling from the room on all fours. Anything to avoid the shortstop.
She sat totally still in the semidarkness and prayed he'd take the hint and take a hike.
Bam! His fist thumped the door.
"I can see you, Stevie," he called. "Five minutes. Open up."
Damn. Defeated, she pushed herself to her feet and plodded across the sage-and-sandstone tiles. She brushed back the almond sheers. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."
His eyes narrowed and his brow creased. "Cut me some slack, woman. It hurts to walk. My leg's damn sore."
She cracked the door and cool night air rushed in, followed by a slower moving Zen. "You've walked a long way?"
"Down your driveway." He eased himself around her. "I took a cab from Ellie Rosen's house."