Until she knew what feelings he hid, it wouldn't kill her to pretend to like baseball.
"This" he interrupted her thoughts with a grand gesture toward the mountain of concrete stadium in front of them, "is the House that Ruth Built."
Next to where they stood was a three-story-high replica of a baseball bat. She set her hat back to get a good look at it and nodded. " Mecca ."
He grinned and guided her toward one of the gates. "Don't get me started on statistics and history. I'll bore you to death."
She doubted Cameron McGrath could bore her. He could probably infuriate her, he most certainly could fascinate her, and, Lord, he could surely arouse her if she gave him the chance. The man was a walking powder keg of masculine, seductive energy.
He led her toward a small crowd at one of the gates. The sensation of his hand on the small of her back sent a pool of warmth through her.
He greeted the ticket-taker, and guided her through a turnstile into the stadium. The sounds and smells of early summer evaporated as they entered what felt like the interior of a giant cement whale, replaced by a medley of foreign scents and noises. The entire place echoed with the din of raised voices and the clatter of feet on concrete. Without thinking, she took Cameron's hand as he bounded through the labyrinth of horizontal ramps, his confident steps energized by an air of familiarity and a sense of urgency.
He paused long enough to listen to the muffled words of an announcer. "We're up. Bottom of the first. Let's go."
He tugged at her hand and she had to stretch her stride to keep up with him, ignoring the vendors' pleas for them to buy hot dogs, nachos or peanuts. She tucked her hat under her arm so it didn't sail off in their wake, and inhaled the overpowering scent of grilled meat and onions. She hadn't eaten all day, and the aroma made her mouth water.
But her overloaded senses obliterated the hunger. Sudden bursts of cheers and applause, flashes of blinding light and green grass through tunnels that led to the field, and the unnervingly comforting sensation of holding his hand all managed to make her a little dizzy.
Dizzy ? What the heck was that all about? She hammered steel into submission for a living. She hiked mile-high mountains for fun. She was the original tough chick. How could one foray into Yankee Stadium on the arm of some maniacal fan make her dizzy? It had to be the documents that he held in his jacket pocket, the importance of her mission.
Somehow she had to get through this game and get his signature . Then she'd tear off to the airport and fly home to Callie. With her mission accomplished.
"Pray there's no score," he said to her as they approached a uniformed security guard. "It's bad enough to miss the first pitch, but missing a run could kill me."
"Cam, we were worried about you!" The guard held out his hand like a fist and Cameron knuckled it with a similar gesture.
"Eddie, my man. What's goin' on?"
"Three up, three down in the top of the first, and let me tell you Mussina's slider looks friggin' magical." Eddie's nasal New York accent was so thick, Jo had to concentrate to understand him.
"Who's up?" Cameron asked.
"A-Rod."
"Already?" He sounded crushed.
Eddie let out a disgusted snort. "Yeah, they're screwin' with the lineup. Loftin grounded out, and Jeter went down swingin'." His gaze"shifted to her, sweeping her up and down with obvious interest. A broad grin blared his approval. "I knew you had to have one helluva good cause to be this late, Cam."
"Eddie, this good cause is Jo Ellen Tremaine. First timer, from California."
Eddie's eyebrows shot up. "California, huh? A's or
Angels?"
Hazy angels? "Excuse me?"
Cameron chuckled and put that way too familiar arm around her again. "Oakland A'sAthletics. Or the California Angels. Who do you root for?"
"Sorry." She made an apologetic face. "I don't really follow the sport."
This earned a belly laugh from Eddie and he waved a finger of warning at her. "Well, you will, or," he pointed to Cameron, "you'll have to kiss your new boyfriend goodbye."
No use trying to correct him. She just shrugged as though the loss of that boyfriend wouldn't matter any more than the loss of a game.
"Let's go, sweetheart." Cameron urged her into a narrow opening toward the lights of the stadium.
She nodded to Eddie, who continued to grin and shake his head, then she turned to face the sea of green in front of her.
It looked like a vast, luxurious emerald carpet textured with symmetrical patterns, bordered in red-brown dirt and surrounded by thousands and thousands of people cheering, hollering, eating, drinking and laughing. She'd been in baseball parks before, but this place had a mix of playfulness, attitude and superiority. Sort of like the man who'd brought her here.
Still holding her hand, Cameron tugged her down a few steps, into a row of box seats not far from the Yankee dugout. First base was close enough that she could see specks of red clay covering the canvas bag. A shower of greetings came at them, and Cameron responded with a series of "Hey" and "How ya doin'?" that included high-fives and more knuckle tapping.
They settled into seats and he dropped a casual arm around her, leaning close to her ear. "You do know who A-Rod is, don't you?"
"Yes." The name sounded more like a tool than a person, but he didn't need to know that.
Suddenly a hollow whack propelled the entire stadium to its feet, including her, as Cameron pulled her from her seat and she instinctively squinted up into the bunding lights.
Then everyone moaned and sat down. By the time Jo saw a player in the outfield throw in the ball, they were seated again, too. Cameron's arm took up permanent residence around her shoulders, the distinctive, delicious scent of him overpowering the smell of popcorn and humanity around her.
"You want that beer?" he asked.
She leaned back enough to make sure he could see her warning look. "This isn't a date."
He grinned and threw a quick glance over his shoulder. "Fake it for me, okay? I got a reputation from one end of the Bronx to the other."
"I bet you do."
His gaze locked on hers, way too warm and friendly for the situation they were in. "A good reputation," he assured her. "As a gentleman who would buy a lady anything she wants at the ballpark."
What she wanted was the paper in his pocket. Signed. "I'll have whatever you have."
Another smack of the ball against the bat stole his attention and they were up again. This time the hit was a success, landing the player on second base. Maybe she should at least try to follow the game.
She sat back down, but Cameron remained standing and whistled at a vendor. Peanuts flew at them, followed by the arrival of two foaming plastic cups. More jokes and pronouncements were tossed around among the people who all seemed to know one another, and before Jo really knew what was happening, it was the fourth inning and she'd had half a beer and three-quarters of a bag of peanuts. And she finally understood what a balk was.
But she didn't feel any closer to success.
Cameron talked about his team with a mesmerizing passion, his movements spare, his expressions intense. His whole body somehow managed to stay practically pressed to her side, the metal arm of the seat the only thing preventing her from feeling the steel of his muscles, the warmth of his substantial frame.
She couldn't help sneaking glances at him while he watched the game. Nor could she help noticing that he did the same. Only there was nothing sneaky about his gazes. He looked at hera lot, and with great interest and every time he did, an unwanted response sparked through her whole body.
She tried to keep the conversation light and act as if she didn't notice the undercurrent of tension and attraction between them. For whatever reason, he'd brought her with him. And she would play his game until she got what she wanted.
"How did you become such a Yankee fan?" she asked. "Don't they have a baseball team in Pittsburgh?"
He froze middrink of beer, obviously surprised by the
question. They hadn't discussed where he'd grown up.
"New York is my home now," he said simply, then took his sip. "I went to college and law school at Fordham about ten minutes from here, and I got my MBA at Columbia. I live, breathe, eat and root for New York City."
"I know," she said quietly, earning another surprised glance. But she didn't know why he'd virtually abandoned the home of his youth.
"I'm at a distinct disadvantage," he softly announced, so close to her ear that her stomach clipped at the vibrations his voice caused. "You seem to know a lot more about me than I know about you."
He had a right to some information about her, she reminded herself. No harm in that. "I live and work in Sierra Springs. I'm thirty years old, own my own home and run a body shop in town." How personal did he want to get?
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
Very personal. "No."
"Ever been married?"
She supposed it was a legitimate question, considering the pending adoption. "Briefly."
"What happened?"
"He wanted to move to L.A."
"And you couldn't work that little detail out?" He looked dubious, and she swallowed before answering with the truth.
"He wanted to move to L.A. with another woman."
"Oh."
Yeah, oh. She shrugged. "Stuff happens."
"Sure does. How long were you married?"
A collective cheer from the crowd threatened to drown out her response, but he actually stayed seated and waited to hear her answer.
"I was married for about a year," she told him. "I was only twenty-two." She really hadn't expected to have to give him too much personal information, figuring he'd want to know about his sister and mother. And maybe Callie.
She was willing to give Cameron McGrath everything he wanted, any pictures, informationincluding the letters from his mother to his fatherif he would sign the paper. She had documentation right there in her bag. That, and a toothbrush, comb and a change of underwear, was all she'd packed for her one-day round-trip to New York. She had no intention of staying one minute longer than she needed to. The next meeting with Child Services was the following week, and she planned to be prepared.
"No children?" he asked, still on the ancient history of her marriage.
"Just the one I plan on adopting."
Oh Lord, what if her worst nightmare came true? What if he suddenly decided he should raise Callie? The thought seemed preposterous from a man who admitted he didn't want the responsibility of a fish, but more preposterous things had happened in the past few months. The law would be on his side, even though his lifestyle didn't exactly welcome a child. Unless he planned to bring a stroller into Yankee Stadium. How could she subtly remind him of that?
"You've never been married," she stated simply.
"Never have, never will."
Relief made her fingers tingle. "You seem sure of that."
A half smile tipped his lips. "Some things are a safe bet, Jo."
"And marriage isn't one of them?"
"That's not what I'm saying." He took another sip of his beer, then set the cup back on the ground. "What's a safe bet is that I'll never get married."
Welcome news, in this case. But how could he be so sure? "Why is that?"
He looked at her the same way he had when she didn't know who played shortstop. "I think you know enough about my personal history to answer that yourself."
She frowned. What was she missing here? "Do you mean because of your parents?"
"Not my parents," he corrected quickly. "My mother. She sort of soured me on lifelong relationships."
His mother ? She'd been forced to leave and had tried for years to rekindle a relationship with her husband and sons. They'd shunned her. Was it possiblehe didn't know that?
The crowd roared again, bat he surprised her by pulling her a little closer and pointing toward the field. "Now just look at that, sweetheart," he said with an easy chuckle, his gaze focused on the field. "Tell me there's anything dull about that brilliant pickoff."
What was brilliant was his change-of-subject technique. But that was fine. She didn't want to delve into his past if he didn't. The less said about it, the better. However, she didn't want him to go too far off topic.
"I need to get to Kennedy by ten-thirty at the latest," she reminded him.
He glanced at the time on the Scoreboard. "That'll be tough."
Her heart squeezed. He couldn't do this. He had no reason to deny her his signature. It was obvious he didn't care about his mother, and surely he didn't want the responsibility of a eleven-month-old baby. "You are going to sign that document, aren't you, Cameron?"
He tightened his hold on her ever so slightly. "What will happen if I don't?"
A child's world, and Jo's, would collapse again. "You will."
"What will happen if I do?"
"I'll leave. I can get a cab myself. I promise never to darken your doorstep again."
A slow smile revealed straight white teeth. "Then I'm going to take every possible minute I've got." He leaned right into her ear and whispered, "And you'd like my doorstep. It's in a great part of town and professionally decorated. You're welcome to darken it anytime."
Every feminine cell in her body betrayed her, dancing to attention and making her tingle. The very thought of what he was suggesting made her legs feel a little weak. Great. Just great, Jo . She hadn't counted on having to fight herself to get what she wanted.
She tried the deep-breathing technique Katie had taught her when she was in her yoga phase, but it came out like an anxious shudder, and his grin widened at the sound.
"Don't be nervous," he said with a soft laugh, patting her thigh just intimately enough to leave an imaginary burn mark. "We're only down by one. And the Sox are cursedusually. You've got nothing to worry about."
They both knew she wasn't worried about the game.
* * *
Chapter Three
The seventh inning was a killer. Boston scored four runs, and the Yanks needed not one but two pitching changes. Things didn't look good.
At the stretch, it was past nine-thirty. Cam knew they'd never see the end of the game if he was going to get Jo to the airport for an eleven-thirty flight to the West Coast.
Anyway, the Yankees were so deep into the bullpen that this one might be a goner. He still had questions. A lot of questions.
Not that he really gave a rat's ass what happened to Christine McGrath. But his brothers had just been babies when she drove off like Thelma without Louise. They had a right to know. Especially Colin. Cam's youngest brother had always blamed himself for their mother's abandonment, but the little monster had been barely old enough to say his own name when she'd disappeared. He owed the information to Colin, and to Quinn.
He took Jo's hand and squeezed it, liking any excuse to touch her. "It's time to go," he said softly.
Her coppery eyes lit with surprise, then she frowned. "You want to stay for the bottom of this inning, don't you?"
It was his turn to be surprisedthat she'd even make the offer. "Yeah. But I'd rather you didn't stomp me with one of your cowboy boots for missing your flight."
They stood, he said his goodbyes to all the box neighbors he spent so many nights with every summer, and he walked her toward the tunnel.
He heard the crack of the bat behind him, knowing by the sound of the crowd that it was a line drive. When he didn't pause, she looked up at him expectantly.
He gave her a sly grin. "You really don't think I'd let you be late, do you?" The announcer called a double. Double damn .
Slipping her arm through his, she rewarded him with a million-dollar smile. "Thank you, Cam."
Aw, hell. That smile was worth missing a grand slam. "No problem. As long as you're willing to admit the truth now."
Her step slowed. "The truth?"
He pointed a thumb over his shoulder toward the field. "Dull as dirt?"
"Well" She dragged out the word and squeezed his arm,
the intimacy of the gesture hitting him like a blast of heat. "Your enthusiasm could be contagious."
He laughed and pulled her closer, noting that her step seemed to lighten and her smile seemed genuine. She could sense she was getting what she came for, and that obviously made her very happy.
"You know, Jo," he said as they left the stadium and stepped onto the streets of the Bronx, "I gotta tell you something."
"What?"
Maybe it was the elusive, clean fragrance of her hair, or the feel of her slender arm wrapped through his. Maybe it was the odd companionship he'd felt with the first woman who didn't try to fake that she understood baseball, but was willing to learn. He didn't really know what the hell it was, but he felt like telling her exactly what he was thinking. "It's too bad we had to meet under such bizarre circumstances."
"Why's that?" She looked up again, her lips parting slightly, her ridiculous but adorable cowboy hat casting a shadow over her delicate cheeks. "Because you think you could have made a baseball fan out of me?"
He froze in his spot, the desire to kiss her hitting Mm as hard as that line drive he just missed. "Yeah," he said, taking off her hat so he could get closer. "And I could, too."
Face to face, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he curled his arms around her waist and she did the same around his neck. Their heights were damn near perfect, he thought. Her eyes at his mouth, just a simple head tilt apart.
"You're going to sign the paper, aren"t you?"
He nodded once. With her gazing up at him with that engaging look of gratitude on her face, he just had to dip his head about three inchesopen his mouth to meet hers and
He kissed her.
She tasted like salt and beer and mint. Her lips were warm and soft and when they opened to him, he skimmed the delicate inside flesh of her mouth with his tongue. His head buzzed with the instant pleasure, and he tensed his arms around her, angling his head to make the kiss more intense and longer.