Catching Heat Page 10

  On the other side of the kitchen counter was a breakfast nook with French doors that opened out to the backyard. Dread pooled in Angie’s stomach. J.T.’s father was out there. On the drive over, J.T. had mentioned his father was an attorney. Would he be as friendly as Sharon Sawyer? Or would his profession make him suspicious? It wasn’t a stretch. Weren’t all lawyers suspicious? It was like a requirement of the job, or something.

  A mental image popped into her head of him sitting in a courtroom wearing a dark black robe with a gavel in his hand proclaiming her guilty of…something nefarious. No wait. That was a judge. Attorneys didn’t have gavels or robes. They wore suits and ties, carried briefcases and prosecuted lying liars that lied. Was there jail time for lying to J.T.’s parents? If so, she could soon be wearing an orange jumpsuit and sharing a cell with someone named Big Bertha who—

  “Angie?”

  She blinked, focused, and found J.T.’s puzzled gaze on her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “Are you all right?” Concern edged his voice. “You look a little pale.”

  “Can you blame her?” Sharon asked, gently patting Angie’s shoulder. “I’m sure this has been a tough day for you, Angie. Your emotions must be all over the place.”

  “They are,” Angie admitted, meeting Sharon’s empathetic gaze. Although small in stature, J.T.’s mother exuded a magnitude of maternal warmth. Angie hadn’t expected such an immediate kinship with this woman. It worried her. Her earlier resolve to keep J.T.’s parents at arm’s length was suffering its first test. And it was one she was afraid she might not pass. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

  “I’ve had four children, I know all about pregnancy mood swings. Your hormones are all out of whack. Especially in the early stages. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

  “I will.” Oh crap. Angie wanted to hug J.T.’s mother and never let her go. What was going on? This wasn’t like her at all. Ever since Grandma Sophia died, hugs had been in short supply in her family. Not that Angie doubted her mother’s love for her, but Selena DeMarco wasn’t an affectionate person. It had to be her stupid hormones. Why else would she just—out of the blue—feel the need for human contact?

  “What’s going on in here?”

  At the sound of the deep voice, Angie turned and met the penetrating gaze of the man who had to be J.T.’s father. The resemblance between father and son was uncanny. It was as if she were looking at J.T. thirty years in the future. Lucky J.T.—he was going to be one of those older men who were both distinguished and attractive.

  “This must be Angie,” J.T.’s father said after a long, sizing up moment. He skirted the table in the nook and moved toward her. “Welcome to our home.” He held out his hand and Angie had no choice but to put take it. “And to our family,” he added as his strong fingers closed around hers and he shook her hand.

  “Thank you, Mr. Sawyer.” Despite an encore of nerves, Angie managed a weak smile.

  “Call me Joe.” His hazel eyes, so like J.T.’s were no longer assessing, but kind and friendly. “Mr. Sawyer makes me feel like I’m in the courtroom.” He released Angie’s hand. “The tri-tip is grilled to perfection. Is everything else ready?”

  “We were just waiting on you, Mr. Grill Master,” Sharon said with an affectionate smile.

  Joe Sawyer rubbed his hands together and grinned. And when he did he looked even more like J.T. “Then let’s eat.” He swung his gaze back to Angie. “I’m looking forward to getting better acquainted with you over dinner.”

  Angie swallowed. Great. Now, just like the tri-tip, she was in for a grilling.

  * * *

  “What do you do for a living, Angie?”

  J.T. looked up from his plate and frowned. He’d been expecting this but he’d assumed his father would at least wait until after dinner before starting the interrogation. But no, he’d started in as soon as they’d sat down at the table in the formal dining room. To anyone but J.T. it might seem like idle chit-chat, but Joe Sawyer was highly skilled at asking innocent questions and eliciting more information from people than they ever intended to reveal. It was one of the reasons he was so good at his job.

  The first question he’d asked Angie had been about her family. She hadn’t said much—just that her mother and younger sister lived in San Francisco and that her sister would be attending UC Davis next fall. That had diverted his father’s questions briefly when his mother seized upon the information and suggested that Angie’s sister come for a visit so Josh—who was out with some friends this evening—could show her around the campus. Angie began to relax as his mother raved about Davis, and how Angie’s sister would love the school and the quaint college town. But now, Angie’s posture was rigid and her grip on her fork so tight her knuckles were white.

  “I worked in the accounts payable unit for the Blaze.” Her voice was pleasant, but she still had a death grip on her fork. J.T. couldn’t blame her for being uncomfortable. He’d feel the same if their positions were reversed and he was the one being questioned like the star witness in a murder trial.

  “So you’re currently unemployed.” The statement was innocuous, but to his father it was a crucial piece of information that could prove his theory that Angie was a conniving cleat-chaser only interested in marrying J.T. for his money.

  “Yes. Unfortunately, I was laid off in earlier this month.”

  “But the Blaze just won the World Series,” his mother commented with surprise.

  “That was my reaction too.” Angie set her fork down on her plate. “But with the economy the way it’s been, I guess it didn’t matter. Four of us were let go.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” His father reached for his wine glass. “The job market is tough right now.”

  “Tell me about it.” Angie sighed. “I’ve submitted on over thirty positions but I haven’t gotten a single interview.”

  “Maybe you’ll have better luck here in Sacramento,” Joe said, then took a sip of his wine. “I assume you’ll still be searching for employment.”

  “Dad.” J.T. shot him a warning glance. “Angie just got here. There’s plenty of time for her to look for a job.”

  “I’ll be looking just as soon as J.T. and I are married,” Angie assured his father, her tone adamant. “I’m not one to sit home all day. I like to keep busy.”

  “Good to know.” As his father nodded in approval, J.T. hoped Angie’s response would put to rest his father’s “gold-digger” worries.

  “Speaking of marriage,” his mother said. “Joe and I have a surprise for the two of you.”

  “What kind of surprise?” J.T. asked warily, and hoped to hell it wasn’t an engagement party. Angie was skittish enough as it was. There was no need to foist his entire family on her so quickly. That was one of the reasons why he’d been relieved to find out that neither Josh nor Jake would be at dinner tonight. He wanted to ease her into the family gently. Word traveled fast within the Sawyer clan and more than a few of his cousins had foot-in-mouth disease. He’d have to crack a few heads if any knocked-up jokes were directed toward Angie.

  “A good surprise. I hope,” his mother said and leaned forward to rest her forearms on the edge of the table. “You mentioned the other day that you and Angie were planning on getting married at the courthouse. That just seems so…so sterile. We want to treat you to a wedding in Lake Tahoe.”

  At a loss for words, J.T. laid his fork on his plate. The offer was a surprise all right but he wasn’t sure it qualified as a good one. The last thing Angie wanted was a romantic wedding and that’s exactly what a wedding in Lake Tahoe would be.

  “That’s so nice of you,” Angie said, glancing at him briefly before turning her attention back to his mother. “But considering the reason why we’re getting married so quickly, I’m not sure it’s appropriate.”

  “Of course it is.” His mother gave Angie a reassuring smile. “J.T. said you didn’t want a church wedding and that’s completely understandable. But it b
reaks my heart to think of you and my son getting married in a judge’s chambers. It seems like such a clinical way to start your marriage. We’d like to do this for you, Angie. Please, at least consider it.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say. It’s extremely generous.” Across the table, Angie met his gaze. “What do you think?”

  What J.T. thought was his mom’s gesture was genuine and, just like her, thoughtful. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings by refusing, but he had to take Angie’s feelings into consideration as well. She’d left her family and friends to move to Sacramento. A small civil ceremony might be all she could handle.

  “Maybe we should discuss this later,” he suggested, not wanting to agree to something Angie really didn’t want.

  “I haven’t been to Lake Tahoe in ages.” Angie’s smile was wistful, and was that a flicker of sadness in her eyes? It disappeared so quickly it was hard to tell. “It’s so beautiful.”

  “They’ve already had their first big snow storm. Tahoe in the winter is breathtaking,” his mother said, going in for the kill. “I’ll take care of all the details. All you and J.T. have to do is show up.”

  The expression on his mother’s face convinced J.T. she already had the wedding location booked and ready to go. Organization and planning were two of her many talents, which was one of the reasons why the coffee cafe she’d opened five years ago was such a success.

  “After that sales pitch I’m not sure we can refuse,” Angie said with a smile.

  “You only get married once,” his mother said. “It would be a shame not to do it right.”

  Angie looked at him and shrugged. “Why not? Let’s do it.”

  All J.T. could do was nod in agreement and keep his damn mouth shut. Angie had been adamant on having a courthouse ceremony but in the space of three minutes she’d completely changed her mind.

  This was why he didn’t understand women.

  After dinner, and banished from the kitchen by his mother and Angie, J.T. joined his father in the family room. The big screen television was tuned to the sports channel where the reporters were engaged in analyzing the NFL playoff situation.

  “I think the Niners have a shot,” J.T. said as he settled on the couch. “All we need is a win combined with a Seahawks loss.”

  Staring at the TV, his father nodded. “I think they’ll clinch the division on Sunday. The Seahawks are up against the Packers. My money is on the Packers.”

  “Any news from Justin?” J.T. still hadn’t heard from his eldest brother and although he didn’t want to worry his mother, he was concerned that no one in the family had received a call or a text. Usually Justin found a way to make some sort of contact when he was working undercover.

  “No.” His father shifted in his leather recliner and shot a cursory glance toward the kitchen. “I talked to a friend of mine at the police department,” he said in a low voice. “He couldn’t tell me much except that the case Justin is assigned to is still active.”

  “Any idea what it involves?” J.T. asked. Justin’s last case had ended with the bust of several major players in an auto-theft ring. The men were currently on trial and according to his brother, none of them had figured out he was a cop. And now it was unlikely they’d recognize him even if they saw him—Justin was unusually adept at changing his appearance.

  “No. I didn’t ask and he didn’t offer up the information.” Joe took off the glasses he wore when watching television and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “He went out on a limb telling me that much. I’m just glad your mother has Angie and this wedding to distract her.”

  “Speaking of Angie, what was with all the questions at dinner?” J.T. stretched his arm over the top of the couch cushions. “For a minute there I thought we were in a courtroom.”

  “I’m merely curious about the woman who’s about to become my daughter-in-law. I don’t believe my questions were intrusive, and Angie didn’t seem offended. She acquitted herself quite well.”

  “She’s not on trial, Dad.”

  “No, she’s not.” He slipped his glasses on. “But you’ve known her for a while and your mother and I have just met her. It’s only natural that we’re curious about her.”

  J.T. didn’t want to admit he didn’t know much more about Angie than his parents had discovered tonight. He hoped to rectify that soon. From the moment he’d met her, Angie had intrigued him. And now he was in a position to satisfy his curiosity. They couldn’t live in the same house and not talk, right?

  “I can tell you this much. She’s hiding something.”

  J.T. scowled. “And you know this how?”

  “Nothing tangible.” His father dipped his chin and peered at J.T. over his glasses. “Just a hunch.”

  “I think you’re off base. Angie was nervous about meeting you and Mom. It’s nothing more than that.”

  Joe shrugged. “You could be right.”

  “I am right,” J.T. shot back, annoyed. “Angie isn’t hiding anything. She’s a private person who’s out of her comfort zone. She’s lost her job, living in a new house and she’s pregnant. I think she has the right to be apprehensive.”

  “I can’t disagree with that,” his father replied. “Maybe that’s what I picked up on. Nerves.” His father paused. “How is all of this going to affect your training? When we talked after the Series you said you were going to make it a top priority this winter.”

  “I’ll find the time,” J.T. replied and averted his gaze. He stared at the television but didn’t see a damn thing.

  * * *

  After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, Angie shoved the sheet and blanket aside and slipped out of bed. She supposed it was natural that she couldn’t fall asleep. After all, this was her first night under J.T.’s roof. Her home for the next two years.

  Turning on the bedside lamp, she grabbed her robe from the end of the bed, pulled it on and left the bedroom. Seconds later, she entered the kitchen, turned on the light and quickly found the cabinet where J.T. kept his glassware. After filling a glass with water from the tap, she moved to the refrigerator and studied the workout schedule J.T. had affixed to the door with a magnet. It looked grueling; she couldn’t help but admire his dedication. She loved playing softball, but she rarely did anything more than practice her pitching with Kelly at the park. But then softball wasn’t her livelihood, she could afford to go light on the training.

  Turning from the fridge, she set her glass on the center island countertop and idly traced the rim with her finger. All things considered, the evening had gone much better than she’d expected. The Tahoe wedding offer had taken her by surprise, and although her first instinct had been to gracefully decline, she’d found herself unable to disappoint J.T.’s mother. Or maybe it was closer to the truth to say that she’d accepted the offer to assuage her guilty conscience. J.T.’s parents had been nothing but kind to her this evening. She didn’t deserve it—she was lying to them. The least she could do was make J.T.’s mother happy by agreeing to have the wedding ceremony in Lake Tahoe.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  Startled by J.T.’s husky voice, Angie almost knocked her glass over. She clutched at it before it tipped, but several drops splattered on the smooth granite surface. Her heart pounded an erratic rhythm as a shirtless J.T. entered the kitchen.

  “Sorry.” He flashed an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I hope I didn’t wake you.” She wiped at the droplets with her fingers. “I tried to be quiet.”

  “You didn’t wake me,” J.T. said as he moved to stand next to her and pried the lid off a plastic container filled with oatmeal cookies his mother had insisted they take home with them. He selected a couple of cookies, set them on the counter and then turned to open the cabinet behind him.

  Wow. Just wow. His shoulders and back were like a sculpted work of art, and the way his muscles moved as he reached for a glass made her fingers itch to touch him. Why did she fe
el like she couldn’t catch her breath? Could it be the black sweats that rode low on his hips and offered her a tantalizing view of his buns of steel? Or maybe it was the way his hair looked all sleep-tousled and sexy, tempting her to run her fingers through it. Or perhaps, it was those powerful arms of his—arms that had carried her with ease when he’d—

  Stop it, Angie. Don’t go there.

  Jerking her gaze from J.T.’s remarkable body, Angie lifted her glass and took a long gulp of the cold water. Maybe it would cool her off. Nope. No such luck. Even after emptying her glass, the blood in her veins still ran hot.

  “We need to talk.”

  Angie set her glass on the granite then pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. Maybe she had a temperature. Her skin felt normal. How could that be? “About what?” she asked, lowering her hand.

  “About the wedding.” J.T. opened the refrigerator, pulled out a quart of milk and poured the last of it into a glass. He set the empty container on the counter. “We don’t have to get married in Lake Tahoe. Did you agree to it because you didn’t want to hurt my mother’s feelings?”

  “Partly,” Angie admitted. “But it also dawned on me that you’re the first of their sons to get married. It seemed like the right thing to do. I’m okay with it, really.”

  J.T. regarded her thoughtfully. “Thank you for considering their feelings,” he said as he reached for a cookie and ate it in two bites.

  Damn. It was hard not to stare at his chest. The man was seriously fit; there wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere. He was all sinew and muscle, a professional athlete in his prime.

  Just like her father had been when he’d first cheated on her mother.

  So far, J.T. didn’t seem to possess the same character traits as her father but that didn’t mean they weren’t there, waiting to emerge.