by Francis Ray
Sitting on the bed, Claire pulled on her blue canvas sneakers and tied them. Jana had done a number on Gray and, whether he admitted it or not, her betrayal made him distrust women. He was making progress, but he had a long way to go before he allowed himself to be vulnerable again and love a woman.
She had to believe that one day he would, that he’d want her and a family. In the meantime, she’d cherish each moment with him. Saturday night she planned to look her best and continue to show him that she’d be there a lifetime if he let her. For Gray she even planned to wear heels.
The doorbell rang and she hurried out of her room. As soon as she opened the front door, Gray pulled her into his arms and his mouth came down on hers. She let herself tumble mindlessly into the passionate kiss. Whatever happened she’d always know what it felt like to be cherished and desired by the man she loved.
* * *
Brooke was in her element. Shopping. With controlled precision she went through the racks in the stores Monday night after Bliss closed. She hit pay dirt in the fourth shop. “This is it. Simple, yet elegant and sensual. Plus it’s on sale.”
Claire’s eyes rounded as Brooke turned the dress around. The short black, three-quarter sleeve wrap dress had the back cut out in an alluring V. “You don’t think it’s a bit much?”
“No.” Brooke held the dress up to Claire. “You’ve got great legs and it’s time you showed them and some skin. Think of it as advertising for Bliss.”
“I don’t know,” Claire mused, trying to visualize how far down the cut of the dress would hit in the back.
“Trust me. If Lorraine hadn’t had to make the deposit, she’d be here and she’d tell you the same thing.” Brooke took matters into her own hands and steered Claire into the oversized dressing room. “Just try the dress on.”
Claire unbuttoned her blouse. “You’re going to look for something?”
“No.” At the surprise on Claire’s face, Brooke smiled. “I don’t need couture for family restaurants and the movies.”
Pulling off her black knit top, Claire paused, then removed her black cotton bra. The way the dress was cut there was no way around it. “You miss it?”
“I thought I would, that there was nothing like shopping, but now I’d much rather spend the time with John and the children.” Taking the dress off the hanger, she handed it to Claire. Once it was on, she pulled up the tab of the five inch zipper in the back. “Wow! When Gray sees you in that dress he may decide to stay in and dine on you.”
“I think I’d rather stay in and let him,” Claire said. She turned and gasped when she saw herself in the mirror. She had shapely legs, rounded curves and full breasts. Hands outstretched, she twisted first one way then the other. She looked totally different. “I can’t believe that’s me.”
Brooke laughed. “Believe it. Gray’s going to love you in it.”
Claire’s smile only slipped for a second. “If only he would.”
Brooke touched her arm lightly. Their eyes met in the mirror. “Gray is a smart man. He won’t let you get away. And in that dress you’ll certainly give him a lot to think about.”
“But will it be enough?” Claire whispered. This time there was no answer from Brooke.
* * *
“You need your eyes examined!” Brooke yelled at the umpire Saturday evening as he called strike one on John. “The ball was wide!”
“The ball was wide!” Mark yelled.
“The ball was wide!” Amy repeated.
John’s father, and family members and fans of The Hawks, John’s softball team, grumbled their displeasure as well. They were down by one run at the bottom of the ninth with two out and two men on base. John was their last chance.
Brooke cupped her hands. “Knock it out of the park, John!”
Her “team” chorused her sentiment and so did those sitting around them. She’d arrived at the game in the bottom of the fifth inning. Amy and Mark had immediately beckoned her to sit between them in the space they’d saved. Of course Mr. Randle hadn’t been able to keep quiet about her being late.
“About time you showed up. My boy is gonna have a stiff neck with as many times as he’d looked up here.”
Despite the warmth his words caused, she winked. “It’s good for him to wonder.”
John swung and missed. “Strike two!” yelled the umpire.
The other team cheered. John’s team groaned. His head down, he walked out of the box.
Brooke remained on her feet and yelled, “You can do it, John.” He looked up at her. “Hit the ball and win this game!” she ordered, her hands on her hips.
The bill of his cap shadowed his face so she couldn’t tell if he smiled or grimaced just before he walked back into the box.
“John’s their best hitter. The last game they played he was working and they lost,” Mr. Randle said quietly. “This game means a lot to him.”
“I know,” Brooke said. She’d come as fast as she could. She reached for Mark and Amy’s hands. The pitcher eyed John, rubbed the ball in his glove, then brought his left arm up and sent the ball over a hundred miles per hour straight over the plate. John swung. The crack of the bat on the wood sent the stadium to its feet.
John watched the ball arc high and keep going over the twelve-foot back wall. He glanced back at Brooke, casually tossed his bat to the ground and started a slow run around the bases.
“Arrogant,” she said between screams, grinning for all she was worth.
* * *
The celebration moved from the softball field to a family pizza parlor with John as the man-of-the-hour. His back was sore from all the slaps he’d received from people, and his neck was getting sore from trying to keep up with his children and Brooke. He’d admitted ruefully as she and her “team” played in the arcade that his children weren’t the problem. Brooke was. Two or three men in the place had tried to pick her up. All of them had left with a wistful smile on their face.
“Just like I heard, she’s off the scale,” Sam said with a deep sigh. “And she doesn’t know any man in this room exists besides you. Man, what wouldn’t I give to trade places with you for just one hour?”
“Not if you want to see tomorrow.”
Sam’s head whipped around. He stared at John. “Man, I’ve never known you to be so touchy about a woman.”
“I’ve never known a woman like Brooke.”
Casually John eased through the small crowd—mostly men—standing around watching Brooke play pinball on the old-fashioned arcade game. He couldn’t blame them. She played with her entire body, her hips moving this way, then that. He was glad he’d taken his shirt out of his tight pants so he wouldn’t embarrass himself or her. He wanted her, and thanks to his parents agreeing to let Mark and Amy spend the night, he didn’t have to rush home. They’d have all night to make love. But first they were going out on the town.
He’d never been possessive or jealous, but he couldn’t resist slipping his arm around her waist. “Ready to leave?”
“No, Dad. Brooke’s almost got the record beat,” Mark protested from beside her.
“She gets points and prizes and she said we could pick out anything we wanted,” Amy, his little mercenary, chimed in from the other side.
John looked at Brooke, read her dilemma in the quick look she threw over her shoulder at him before she resumed playing. She was torn between him and his children. He stepped back to give her room. “Then win the game.”
Brooke won the game.
The middle-aged manager with a receding hair line and a big stomach from eating too many of his own products took one look at Brooke and insisted they take a picture together to commemorate the occasion. She insisted just as strongly that Amy and Mark be in the photo as well.
“What about the prizes?” Amy wanted to know as soon as the flashbulb went off. The people around them laughed.
John shook his head and picked her up. “We’re going to have to have a talk about your avariciousness.”
Amy
frowned. “Since it’s a big word, does it mean I’m not going to get prizes?”
“It means you’re greedy and you should wait until Brooke offers,” Mark told her.
Her big eyes widened. “But she already did. Didn’t you, Brooke?”
Brooke’s mouth twitched. “Yes, I did. You have half the ten thousand points and your father can help you pick out what you want. I’ll go with Mark.”
John was already shaking his head. “She gets one prize and that’s all. We’ll meet back here in five minutes.”
Reading the heated look in John’s face, Brooke flushed. She was almost at her limits as well. She’d never wanted a man as much before. Just a look and she was hot.
“You going to try out for the Y’s year-round softball team next week?” she heard a boy ask Mark.
“No. Daddy wouldn’t have time to take me.”
Brooke came out of her lustful musings to see Mark talking to another young boy about his age, and frowned. Mark had to know his father would move heaven and earth for his children.
“Maybe your grandparents could bring you?” the boy continued.
Mark shook his head. “They always go to church on Wednesday night. Besides, practice starts at six and Daddy makes a special effort to be home to eat dinner with us and put us to bed. It’s important to him. Softball practice would throw off the schedule. The calendar is already full with things for him to do for us. I’m in Cub Scouts. He works hard and I don’t want him to have to do more.”
“Bummer. Wish you could play,” the little boy said. “See you at school Monday. Your dad sure can hit the ball.”
“Thanks. He’s the best.”
Brooke’s heart went out to Mark, trying to make life easier for his father even if it meant not having things he wanted. “Mark.”
He looked up from staring at the floor. The smile came, but it was slow. He walked over to her. “You ready to go pick out your prizes?” he asked.
Even now, he didn’t put himself first. She wanted to hug him, but was afraid it might embarrass him. “No, I’m ready to go with you to pick out your prizes. Consider it a math lesson.”
The smile grew. “Really?”
“Really, and I’ll take care of your father so he’ll let you keep them. We’re friends and teammates, aren’t we?” She held out her hand.
“Thanks, Brooke.” He took her hand, took a couple of steps, then stopped and beckoned her to lean down. When she did he whispered. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”
She blinked away the tears. “Me, too.”
* * *
“Mark wants to play year-round softball, but he thinks you work too hard to have anything added to your schedule.”
“What are you talking about?” John asked. Moments after he’d come back from putting the children down for the night, she’d dragged him into the backyard. “Mark would have told me if that was true.”
“I overheard him talking to his friend tonight,” she said, then went on to tell him about the conversation. “He loves you so much, John. He’s trying to be the perfect son, to not bother you or make life more difficult.”
John stared at her for a long moment, then blew out a breath. “Thank you.” Brushing by her, he went into his old bedroom where Mark and Amy always slept. Amy slept soundly with her arm wrapped around Mr. Bear. Mark was playing with the Spider-Man stuffed toy he’d chosen as one of his prizes. The instant he saw his father, he was up and putting the toy away.
“Sorry, Dad. I’ll get right back in bed.” He climbed into the twin bed and got under the covers.
John swallowed. He’d known that Mark was too serious, but he hadn’t tried to talk to him about it. Filled with remorse, he sat on the side of the bed.
“You know I love you, don’t you, Mark?”
“Yes, Daddy,” he said, staring up at his father. “Thanks for letting me keep the toys Brooke helped me pick out. I’ll share with Amy.”
Always so polite. “You never ask for much. Why is that, Mark?”
Mark’s gaze flickered away. “I don’t know.”
John was afraid he did, and the knowledge went straight to his heart. “Look at me, son.”
Mark’s head turned. “Yes, sir.”
“All I am, all I ever hope to be means nothing if you aren’t happy. I don’t mind the hard work, the long hours. What I would mind was if there was something you wanted and you couldn’t talk to me about it. Is there something you want that you haven’t told me about?”
Mark’s squirmed in bed. “Maybe.”
John waited patiently, but Mark didn’t say anything else. “Maybe to play softball?”
His son’s eyes lit up, then dimmed. “There’s no time in the schedule.”
“We’ll make time,” John promised. “What position do you want to play?”
“I really can?” Mark sat up in bed.
“I’ll never break a promise.”
“I want to pitch,” he said, coming out from under the covers to kneel in front of his father. “I’d send the ball so fast they couldn’t see it.”
John chuckled. “Tomorrow after church you can practice on me. When are try outs?”
Mark’s smile faded. “Wednesday at five-thirty at the Y.”
“I’ll take you. Your grandfather will probably want to go, too.”
“But that’s prayer night, and we eat at six.” Mark said.
John stared at his son in surprise. Had he become so rigid? “This is important. Dinner can be late. We can grab a bite afterwards, and your grandfather wouldn’t mind being late, too, if it means seeing his only grandson try out for the softball team.”
“Wow? Can I go ask him? Maybe Brooke can come, too?”
“Sure.” He might have known Brooke’s name would pop up.
Mark scrambled out of bed and ran into the den where his grandparents and Brooke were watching a sitcom. “Daddy said I could try out for year-round softball. Granddad, he said you might want to come, but it’s Wednesday night at five-thirty at the Y.”
“I’ll be there,” his grandfather told him from his easy chair.
Mark’s attention switched to Brooke. “Maybe you can come, too.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“I think I’ll be there, too,” his grandmother said from beside Brooke on the sofa.
Still smiling, Mark looked back over his shoulder at his father who had come up and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Daddy is going to let me practice my pitching tomorrow after church.”
“Why wait? If your grandfather has a softball, John can get his bat and glove from his truck.” Brooke stood. “The back is well lit and I can be the catcher.”
His eyes as round as saucers, Mark’s gaze flicked from Brooke to his father. “Can we?”
“Not in your pajamas.”
He raced out of the room to change.
John stared across the room at Brooke and saw their plans for a cozy dinner and dancing fade away. He didn’t regret it, but he wasn’t sure how she felt. This was the first time they would have gone to a really nice restaurant. Afterwards they were going dancing. He had planned it all week. Mark had happily put it on the calendar. “They’re not going to hold our table.”
Brooke gave him a look. “If you think I’d miss Mark striking you out, you’re crazy.”
Carrying his tennis shoes, Mark raced back into the room, his shirt unbuttoned and went straight to Brooke. “You really are going to catch?”
She began buttoning his shirt. “We’re friends and teammates. Your father won’t have a chance against us.”
Grinning, Mark sat down on the sofa to put on his tennis shoes.
“Don’t just stand there. Go get the things out of the truck,” Brooke ordered.
Shaking his head, John went to his truck. Brooke didn’t seem to mind that she wasn’t going to the fancy restaurants and parties she once had. But for how long? That bothered him almost as much as the guys coming on to her all the time. He’d never h
ad to constantly be on guard for a woman’s attention. He didn’t like it, but he’d like it less if Brooke wasn’t in his life. Opening the truck’s cab, he took out his bat and glove and headed back into the house.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Gray simply stared. “You’re beautiful.”
Gray had called her beautiful before, but he’d never sounded as if the words were a reverent vow. She closed the front door with an unsteady hand. “Thank you. I’ll get my purse.”
He gasped when he saw the back of the dress. She turned back to him, biting her lower lip.
“You look exquisite. And I wish I could take that dress off you and take you to bed.”
A smile broke over Claire’s face as she came to him. “We can stay home if you want.”
“We’re going out. I want to show people what a desirable woman I’m fortunate enough to be dating.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Go get your bag.”
Smiling, she started toward the family room, her steps slow and deliberate. His gaze traveled to her feet in the sexy high heels. He looked up and their eyes met.
She flushed. “I’ve practiced every day.”
He went to her and placed his hands on her waist. “And I don’t suppose the dress would look right with anything but four-inch heels.”
“I’m afraid not. As long as I go slowly, I’m all right.”
“Then slow it is and I’ll be right beside you all the way, just where I planned to be.”
“You don’t think I’m vain or silly?”
“No,” he answered softly. “I think you’re the most loving and giving person I know. I think the world is better because you’re in it. I think I’m a lucky man.”
Tears crested in her eyes. “No one has ever said anything so beautiful to me. You touch me in ways I didn’t know possible. I’ve never been happier.”
Gathering her hands in his, he kissed them. “I’m glad. Now, let’s go show you off.”
* * *
The Peninsula Grill was elegant, posh and romantic. They’d entered through a gas-lit, tree-enshrouded courtyard. The maitre’d greeted Gray by name, then immediately showed them to their intimate table by a window. Antique landscapes hung from velvet-upholstered walls, and chandeliers cast a rosy glow. Claire didn’t breathe easier until Gray had personally seated her. She smiled her thanks across the white-linen-draped table. He hadn’t let her go until the last possible second. Handing them their menu, the maitre’d withdrew.
