Catching Heat Page 2

  Matt cocked his head and shot him a sly grin. The question was one that had been asked repeatedly ever since Rick Taylor had announced—after the tragic death of his wife—that he was giving up baseball for good. “My agent’s working on the particulars of the contract right now, but between you and me, yes, I’ll be back.”

  J.T. wasn’t proud of the frustration that threatened to consume him. He liked Matt. They’d become friends when Matt had joined the team in mid-July after Taylor had been injured. But with Matt returning to the Blaze next season, J.T. would be in the same damn position he’d been in since he got to San Francisco—back-up catcher with nominal playing time. It sucked.

  J.T. tamped down his frustration, then took a long pull of his beer. “That’s…great.”

  Matt opened his own bottle. “You going home?”

  “Yep.” J.T. moved past Matt, out of the kitchen to the living room and stood in front of the big picture window that afforded him a spectacular view of Blaze Field. “Unlike you, I don’t have anything to keep me here during the off season.” He stared at the ballpark and when the image of a woman with spirals of dark hair and sparkling blue eyes filled his head, he shook it off. He turned to find Matt watching him with a speculative gaze. “What are your plans for the next couple of months?”

  “Lots of surfing.” Matt eased back against the counter and took a swig of beer. “What about you?”

  J.T. pointed his bottle at Matt. “I’m taking your advice.”

  “What advice was that?”

  “You said to train like a maniac and that’s exactly what I’m gonna to do.”

  “You gunning for my job?”

  “My contract ends next year. Someone’s gonna need a catcher. I want to be the guy they want. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

  Matt regarded him thoughtfully and then nodded. “If you need help, let me know.”

  “I will,” J.T. said, not expecting anything less from Matt. The guy had joined the team with a ton of baggage, but all that was history now. Everyone on the Blaze had seen what Matt was made of when he led the team to its first World Series. The former Dodger had become a god in San Francisco and as far as J.T. was concerned, Matt deserved it. That’s why he couldn’t be jealous. Matt Scanlon was one of the best players the league had ever seen.

  “Kelly and I are having dinner at Kamu’s tonight. Want to join us?” Matt asked.

  J.T. polished off his beer and wondered if Kelly was inviting Angie DeMarco to dinner as well. The two women were best friends so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

  He hated that a tiny part of him hoped she would be there, that he might see her one last time before he left for Sacramento. How fucked up was that? He must have been insane to think their one night together meant a damn thing to her. They hadn’t done much talking that night, and the next morning when he awoke she was long gone. And to further chap his hide, she’d avoided him like the plague ever since.

  On second thought, he hoped she didn’t join them for dinner tonight, or any other night. The best thing for all concerned was for him to never see her beautiful face ever again.

  “Sure. I’m leaving on Sunday so I probably won’t see either of you for a while.” J.T. forced a smile. “Hey, did you know that footage of you and Kelly kissing on top of the dugout has gone viral?”

  Matt finished his beer and set it on the counter. “Kelly mentioned it.”

  “There’s like a million hits on it. And not one of us suspected you guys had a thing going on. Shit, we all thought you two couldn’t stand each other.”

  “Things change.” Matt pushed off the counter and flashed him a grin.

  “The only thing changing for me is I’ll be working my ass off.” J.T. followed Matt to the door. “Nothing and no one is going to break my concentration. This winter is all about taking it to the next level.”

  Matt opened the door. “If it means anything,” he said before moving into the hallway. “I think you’ve got what it takes to get there.”

  It meant a lot. “Thanks,” J.T. said, and gave Matt a friendly slap on the shoulder. “I appreciate that.”

  “See you at six,” Matt said, and then strode down the hall toward the elevator.

  * * *

  Just after nine, J.T. left Matt and Kelly at Kamu’s and headed back to his condo. Across the street, Blaze Field was dark, but the Blaze apparel and memorabilia shop outside the stadium was open and doing brisk business. He wasn’t surprised at the turnout, the fans were still reveling in the team’s World Series win—buying up anything that had World Series Champs emblazoned on it.

  Although he’d reached the pinnacle of his sport, the victory was bittersweet. His playing time had been minimal and his only significant contribution had been a double in game six—the game that had clinched the Series. That double had scored the go-ahead run and for a few exhilarating hours he’d felt like he’d made a difference. Damn it. He wanted to feel that way all the time. More than anything he wanted to move beyond being a back-up to guys like Rick Taylor and Matt. The problem was, he’d mistakenly assumed his natural talent would be all he needed. Not true. Matt had opened his eyes to that.

  After entering the lobby of his building, J.T. rode the elevator up to his floor. Although the condo was nice, he wouldn’t miss it. His house in Sacramento was a lot more spacious and had a big backyard, complete with a pool and hot tub. His older brother, Jake, owned a gym and had agreed to train him during the off season. Jake assured him he would put him through his paces and knowing his brother, there would be torture involved. That tub would come in handy to soak his sore muscles.

  The moment he stepped out of the elevator he saw her. A flood of hot, rough sensations slid down his spine as she turned and those mesmerizing eyes of hers locked with his. His breath caught in his throat and he silently cursed himself for still being affected by her. It had been that way since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her and from the telltale thundering of his heart, not much had changed.

  Quickly gathering his scattered wits, he strode toward the woman who, for the past couple of months, had been extremely successful at avoiding him—the woman who had shared his bed for one extraordinary night and was gone before sunrise.

  Angie DeMarco.

  J.T. wasn’t sure why she was standing at his door and didn’t speculate on the reasons as he approached her. Her arms were crossed over her chest, obstructing his view of the ring he still hadn’t seen but knew she’d started wearing a few weeks after their night together. His gut tightened. He shouldn’t care that she was engaged—they barely knew each other. It hit him then that he didn’t know much about her, yet he was intimately acquainted with almost every inch of her slender yet curvy body.

  Halting in front of her, he didn’t say a word. Instead he let his gaze wander over her face. Her skin was porcelain smooth, her cheekbones high, and her mouth, with its slight upward tilt at the corners only hinted at the beautiful smile he’d coaxed out of her that night so many weeks ago. Her dark hair spilled around her shoulders in wavy corkscrew spirals that almost begged to be touched. It was soft. It ticked him off that he remembered not only that, but every single thing about the night they’d spent together.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, more harshly than he’d intended. A twinge of guilt hit him but he quickly got over it. They’d had a one night stand—end of story.

  Angie loosened her arms from over her chest to push her hair back. Something she did quite frequently. “I—I need to talk to you.” She paused, bit her lower lip and continued, “It’s important. May I come inside? I don’t want to talk about it in the hall.”

  “Why not?” He fished for his keys in the pocket of his jeans. “This should be interesting,” he muttered as he unlocked the door and hit the light switch by the door as he moved inside. “Sorry about the mess. I’m packing up to head home.” He waved a hand toward the boxes still strewn around the room. Some of them were packed and taped up, but a few were sti
ll waiting to be filled.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Sunday morning.” He closed the door to find Angie standing with her back to him, surveying the disaster that was his living room. It was the perfect opportunity to check out her ass, showcased to perfection in the snug black pants she wore. When she turned, he forced his gaze upward to meet hers. She had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen—a startling blue that reminded him of the aquamarine gemstones that glittered in the necklace his mother wore on special occasions.

  “Sacramento, right?” Angie fidgeted with the strap of her purse on her shoulder, then clasped her hands together in front of her. She seemed nervous. Why?

  “Yes.” J.T. set his keys on the table next to the entry. “So why are you here?”

  “Now that I’m here, I’m not quite sure how to say it.” She paused and took a deep breath before exhaling. Her face had turned pale and there were dark shadows underneath her eyes. Whatever she had to say seemed to be weighing heavily on her. But what could it be? Was she sorry for avoiding him for weeks? Was she sorry she’d gotten engaged?

  Angie let out another breath. “I’m pregnant.”

  Chapter Two

  As the seconds ticked by at an alarmingly slow rate, Angie waited for J.T. to say something. Anything. But he didn’t say a word—he just stared at her with eyes that were hard and inscrutable.

  Maybe it was time to admit this was one heck of a bad idea. Ever since leaving Dr. Manning’s office, she’d been struggling with whether or not she should tell J.T. he was going to be a father. Then, when she’d finally decided he had a right to know, she wasn’t at all sure how to go about it. A letter seemed too impersonal. A phone call might have worked but she didn’t have his phone number. The only avenue left to her was to tell him in person, and since she knew exactly where he lived she couldn’t think of one valid excuse not to get it over with.

  After sitting in a nearby cafe for a few hours she’d finally gotten the courage to face him. Unfortunately, that courage had quickly evaporated when she’d reached his door. Like a pansy-ass wimp, she’d been about to leave when he emerged from the elevator. At that point there was no place to hide. She had to talk to him.

  Easier said than done. The entire time she’d been nursing her herbal tea she’d been rehearsing what she would say. But when it came right down to it, all of those carefully chosen words had flown right out of her head when he was standing in front of her looking every bit as hot and sexy as she remembered. Damn it all. She hated how just looking at him caused her heart to turn over and her pulse to flutter. His hair, the color of golden wheat, curled around his collar, slightly disheveled, and definitely sexy. His eyes were hazel and their shape reminded her of a jungle cat, slightly exotic. His face was angular, his nose aquiline and his lips were the sexiest she’d ever seen on a man. And to make matters worse, his body was just as impressive as his face.

  Standing before such blasted perfection, she’d been so unnerved that she’d just blurted out the bad news, with no preamble or introductory remarks to soften the blow or lessen the shock. It was out there now and there was no taking it back.

  “Congratulations.” J.T.’s tone was terse and his eyes still hard.

  Angie’s jaw dropped. “Congratulations? Is that all you have to say?”

  “What do want me to say?” he snapped. “That I’m happy for you and your fiancé? That I hope you’ll be one great big happy family? Why the hell are you even telling me this anyway? You made it crystal clear you didn’t want a damn thing to do with me.”

  This was so not going the way she’d expected. But it did make sense that J.T. would think the baby was Scott’s. Anyone would make that assumption. Just as they would assume she’d been having sex with the man she was supposed to marry. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  “It’s not Scott’s baby.” She gripped the strap of her purse and squared her shoulders. “It’s yours.”

  J.T.’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “We spent one night together, Angie.”

  Once was all it took. That’s what her grandmother used to say anyway. “We didn’t use protection.”

  “And let me guess.” He smirked. “You always use a rubber with your fiancé?”

  “No.”

  “Then how can you be sure the baby is mine?”

  “Because Scott and I have never slept together,” Angie admitted, and at J.T.’s puzzled expression she added, “He doesn’t believe in sex before marriage.”

  J.T. snorted. “Are you serious?”

  “That’s how he was raised. We were waiting until the honeymoon.”

  “Waiting until the…” He broke off, his expression incredulous. “And you were okay with that?”

  She might not have been if she’d wanted to have sex with her fiancé. But she hadn’t been marrying Scott for sex, or even for love. Her reasons had been a lot more complicated. “I respected his religious beliefs.”

  “Oh, now I get it. You fucked me because you weren’t getting any from him.”

  “That’s not how it was.” Angie’s voice rose. “I didn’t plan on having sex with you that night. It…it just happened.”

  “It didn’t just happen. You made a conscious choice to come back here with me.”

  “I wish you and Matt had never come to the game that night.” She put her hand to her stomach as it roiled with queasiness. Her nausea wasn’t always confined to the a.m. And when she felt sick, she got a little testy. Make that a lot testy. “This is your fault.”

  “My fault? How do you figure that?” J.T. asked her with a stony gaze. “I didn’t force you into anything. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you.”

  Suddenly, a familiar feeling threatened to overtake her, and if the past few days were any indicator she only had seconds to spare. With a strangled sound, she clapped her hand to her mouth, brushed past a surprised J.T. and rushed to the bathroom. She careened inside—thankful she’d remembered where it was—and made it to the toilet bowl just in time. When the awful retching was finally over, she flushed the toilet and went to the sink to rinse her mouth out.

  When she returned to the living room, J.T. had moved from the living room into the adjacent kitchen.

  “Would you like some water?” He turned from the refrigerator and held up a bottle. His expression had softened, or perhaps it was relief that she hadn’t tossed her cookies on his hardwood floor.

  “Yes. Thank you.” She moved into the small but well-appointed kitchen, set her purse on the counter and took the bottle from his outstretched hand. She tried not to notice his tanned forearm, or his long tapered fingers. Just like she’d tried not to notice the way his faded jeans hugged his powerful thighs or the subtle scent of soap and man. It wasn’t working. She was aware of everything about him.

  “Are you all right?” He scanned her face with concern. “You don’t look good.”

  “Morning sickness. Only it seems to strike at any time of the day and night.” She twisted the cap from the bottle and took a long drink as J.T. put some space between them and leaned on the opposite counter near the sink. Thank God—his masculine presence was playing havoc with her senses. Just being in the same room with him reminded her of the night they’d spent together, right here in this condo.

  Why had she come back here with him that night? None of this would be happening if she hadn’t lowered her guard and allowed her damn attraction to him overcome all reasoning.

  “How long have you known?” He braced his palms against the smooth granite, looking a bit shell-shocked.

  Welcome to the club.

  “I suspected last week but I got the official confirmation from my doctor this afternoon.”

  “How did…” J.T. squinted. “What’s your fiancé’s name again? Steve?”

  “Scott.” Angie took another sip of water, grateful the nausea had passed.

  “Right. How’d he take the news?”

  Angie flushed under his direct gaze. “We broke up a f
ew weeks ago.”

  A flicker of some indefinable emotion briefly lit J.T.’s eyes before he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “So what do we do next?”

  “Nothing. I just thought you had a right to know you’re going to be a father.”

  “Would you object to a paternity test?” he asked, after a slight hesitation.

  Angie stiffened. “Are you suggesting I would lie about something like this?” Her blood began to boil as he remained silent. “How dare you. I don’t want a thing from you. I’m going to have this baby, and I’m going to raise it myself. If you want to be a part of its life then we’ll work something out later.” She slammed the bottle on the counter and glared at him. “And since you seem to think I’m a liar, we can do a paternity test just as soon as my doctor says it’s safe.”

  “I wasn’t calling you a liar.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s just that a lot of professional athletes are preyed upon by women who are hot after their money.”

  “Well, maybe if you jocks learned to keep it in your pants, or use a condom, you wouldn’t have that problem.”

  “I don’t recall you being too concerned about a condom,” J.T. shot back. “Either time.” A wicked smile curved his lips. Angie’s cheeks burned. Damn him for reminding her they’d had sex more than once that night.

  “Then both of us were stupid.” She reached for her purse. “I should go. It’s getting late.”

  “How can I reach you?” J.T. asked, following her to the door. “There’s still a lot to discuss.”

  “Like what?” Angie opened the door and turned to meet his gaze. “We barely know each other. Just because I’m having your baby doesn’t change that fact.”

  “Still, I think I should get your phone number.” He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. “You can’t just come in here, drop this bomb on me and then leave without a way for me to contact you.”

  He was right. But in her defense, she hadn’t thought much about what would happen after she’d told him about the baby.