Angel in Armani

by Melanie Scott

  “Well, that’s good to know,” Lucas’s voice said from behind her.

  Floor, swallow her up. Nope, didn’t seem like that was going to happen. She turned around, well aware that her cheeks were flaming.

  Liza started laughing. “You should see your face, honey. You’ve got it bad.”

  “Mom!”

  Lucas leaned against the door frame, a broad smile on his face. “No, you should listen to your mom. She’s very wise.”

  Liza beamed at him. “I can see why she likes you,” she said.

  Lucas straightened. “I like her, too, Mrs. Charles.”

  “Is there something I can get for you?” Liza said.

  “I thought maybe some chips or something? We’re watching the game.”

  Something to soak up some of the beer, Sara thought. At least on her dad’s part. Lucas had eaten two helpings of lasagna and salad and garlic bread, so he couldn’t possibly be hungry. But her dad hadn’t eaten much at all.

  “I’ll get it, Mom,” she said. “Why don’t you go pick out a movie or something? If these two are doing male baseball bonding, I’m guessing we’ll be here awhile.”

  “I’ll take Dougal out first,” Liza said. “He’s practically drowned himself in drool all through dinner. I’ll give him a couple of biscuits.”

  “You spoil him,” Sara said.

  “That because he’s the best dog,” Liza said. She bent over and patted her leg. Dougal pricked his ears from his spot in the dog bed in the kitchen. “C’mon, handsome,” Liza said. “Who wants a biscuit?”

  She walked out of the kitchen with Dougal on her heels, eyes firmly fixed on the dog biscuits in her hand.

  “I like your mom,” Lucas said.

  “I do, too,” Sara said. She opened the pantry trying to see what suitably manly carbs might be lurking within. Corn chips, check. Salsa, check. Some of the disgusting beef jerky things her dad liked. And a bag of pretzels. That should do the trick.

  “I’m not so sure your dad likes me, though,” Lucas said.

  “If he’s watching sports with you then he’s decided you’re not too terrible.” Sara found bowls and started opening packets. “Did you talk to him?”

  “Yes. He’s going to make an appointment to come see me.”

  “He won’t—”

  Lucas held up a hand. “By which I mean I’m going to leave all my details with your mom and get her to make the appointment. And if she doesn’t do it first thing Monday then one of the assistants at my office will call her. I know guys make terrible patients. I’ve been doing this awhile.”

  She suddenly felt a couple of inches taller, like something had been weighing her down and had suddenly tumbled free. Lucas was going to see her dad. He’d figure out what was wrong and then he’d fix it and everything would be back on track. She beamed at him over the salsa. “You are so getting lucky later on, Angelo.”

  * * *

  Sunday morning brought with it a few pale rays of sunshine, the first faint hint that spring might be coming at some point. Sara stared out the window, contemplating how to fill up her day. Lucas had headed back to Manhattan to check in on patients and repack his bags. They were flying back to Orlando in the early evening, which meant Sara had to go and collect the helo and get organized, too—but there was plenty of time for that. She’d done her laundry and cleaned the tiny apartment yesterday when she’d been waiting for Lucas.

  She looked at Dougal. Maybe she’d take him out. The weather had been too awful for taking him on long walks lately; besides which, she’d been spending too much time away from him. He liked staying with her folks but she knew he was a handful for her mom to walk on her own. He behaved for her dad and didn’t try to warn off all the men he encountered, but her dad’s leg didn’t let him take a Lab for several-mile walks right now.

  So a hike with Dougal it was.

  It was a plan. Quality dog bonding time then a stroll past her favorite bakery for a doughnut or something before she came back to pack. As good a way to spend a Sunday as any if she couldn’t spend it with Lucas.

  But as she opened her closet to find her coat, her cell started to ring. The generic ringtone rather than one she’d assigned to anybody.

  She picked it up but didn’t recognize the number. “Sara Charles.”

  “Hey, Sara, it’s Maggie. Maggie Jameson.”

  “Maggie? Hi. Did you need the helo?” She couldn’t think of another reason why Maggie would be calling her on a Sunday—and there was that pesky clause in her contract with the Saints that said she was essentially on call twenty-four seven.

  Maggie laughed. “No. To be honest, I was hoping you’d be home. I’m at Deacon and Alex had to go back to Manhattan and I’ve had all the paperwork I can stand for one week. I thought you might want to come over and hang out. I was going to go hit some balls in the batting cages. I can teach you how to swing a bat. Give you some extra baseball cred points.”

  “I have zero baseball cred points,” Sara said. “And terrible hand-eye coordination.”

  “Rubbish. You fly a helicopter. You’ve got to have good reflexes. You just need practice. And this way, you’ll be able to play when we have a staff game.”

  “Do I have to?” It popped out before she could stop herself.

  Maggie laughed again. “No. But give it a shot. Maybe you’ll like it. C’mon, Sara. My dad’s away and there’s nobody here for me to play with. You could bring your dog. It’s actually a decent day and he can run around.”

  “Are dogs allowed?”

  “Not normally and definitely not in the stadium,” Maggie said. “But the batting cages are in the training complex. You’ve seen it. There’s not much there that can be ruined by a dog peeing on it.”

  Hanging out with Maggie did sound like more fun than walking alone. And with the team in Florida, there weren’t likely to be many men for Dougal to object to. It was hard to find new places for him to explore that met that criterion.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. But I’m not lying about the hand-eye coordination thing.”

  “I’ll make sure I find you a helmet,” Maggie said. “And if you’re really bad then we’ll try pitching. Failing that, I have some of Shonda’s cookies and plenty of soda and stuff in my office. We can eat sugar and veg out before the guys get back and raid my stash.”

  Cookies—particularly Shonda’s, which were so good they were probably illegal—sounded better than trying to hit a baseball. But Sara wasn’t going to give up without even trying.

  If she was still as terrible as she remembered being in school then she would have proved it to Maggie in private rather than humiliating herself in public at a staff game. Plus she could get Maggie to vouch for her complete lack of sporting ability and get her out of having to play. “Twenty minutes,” she repeated and hung up.

  * * *

  As Sara followed Maggie toward the row of batting cages, juggling a bat and a glove in one hand and Dougal’s leash in the other, she started to have second thoughts about the sanity of this particular idea.

  Maggie was carrying a bat and a glove, not to mention two helmets, a large tote bag, and a bucket of balls—which should have required an extra hand or two but she obviously had the knack of toting baseball gear around. Despite all of that she managed to gesture toward the cages as they approached. There hadn’t been snow for a few days now, and the grass surrounding them actually looked green in the weak sun.

  “Good, yes?” Maggie said.

  Dougal certainly agreed with her. He strained at the end of his leash, sniffing rapturously in the direction of the grass. Though maybe it was the faint smell of hot dogs and spilled beer that had him so excited.

  It was an odd combination but one that she was getting used to the more time she spent at Deacon. Combined with the cool air, it was strangely pleasant.

  When they reached the cages, Maggie piled everything on a row of painted wooden benches placed off to one side. Hands free, she bent dow
n to pet Dougal and he rolled over to let her rub his belly, panting happily. Maggie bent closer. “Who’s a good dog? Dougal? Are you a good dog?”

  As if in reply, Dougal bounced to his feet and swiped her face enthusiastically with his bright pink tongue.

  Sara tightened her grip on the leash, but Maggie seemed to have a sense of humor about doggy kisses. She just grinned, wiped her cheek with her sleeve, and then patted Dougal again.

  “Do you want to let him off his leash? There’re no gaps in the fence around the cages,” Maggie said.

  Sara looked down at Dougal, who was practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

  “Sure.” Maggie paused. “He’s not going to dig, is he?”

  “No,” Sara laughed. “He’s never been a digger.” Dougal sniffed politely at her mom’s flower beds but he hadn’t actually dug anything up since he’d been a puppy. Even then the worst damage he’d ever managed was demolishing a pot of pansies one afternoon when they’d left him home alone for what he’d apparently decided was far too long. “He might pee on a few things.”

  “Well, like I said, that’s not going to hurt anything.” Maggie turned back to the stuff she’d left piled on the benches.

  “Are any of the grounds staff around?” Sara asked, adding her stuff to the pile.

  “No,” Maggie said. “A couple of security guys are here but I already told them I was coming to the cages, so it’s unlikely they’ll come by. Why?”

  Sara nodded at Dougal. “He’s not a fan of strange men. He won’t bite anyone”—at least, he hadn’t so far—“but if there are going to be guys around, it might be better to keep him leashed.”

  “It will be okay,” Maggie said. “I’ll call the guys, tell them not to come over here. Let him go.”

  “Are you sure?” Sara asked.

  Maggie nodded. “It’s not fair to bring him out here and not let him run around some. Why doesn’t he like guys?” she asked as Sara bent and unclipped Dougal’s leash.

  “That’s kind of a mystery. I got him as a puppy and no guy’s ever hurt him that I know of. Took him forever to warm up to my dad.”

  Dougal bounded off, running in widening circles for a minute before he stopped and starting sniffing at things instead.

  “What about boyfriends? Doesn’t that make it kind of tricky?”

  “The last couple of guys I dated were when I was in the army,” Sara said. “He never met them. And there hasn’t been much time for dating since I was discharged. I’ve been busy with Charles Air.”

  “Right,” Maggie said. “Your dad.”

  Sara hoped she’d cut off that particular line of questioning. “So, how about we get this over with?” She waved a hand at the baseball cages.

  Maggie laughed. “Gee, you sound so enthusiastic. Don’t worry, it’ll be fun.” She handed Sara a bat. “Have you ever actually played baseball?”

  Sara studied the bat. It looked well used, the Saints logo painted across its widest part faded and chipped in places. “I think maybe softball a couple of times in grade school.”

  “Well, same general principle.” Maggie picked up the other bat. “Hold it like this.” She demonstrated the grip, curling her fingers around the bat like it was part of her.

  “Let me guess, you used to play,” Sara said.

  “Yeah, I did in school. I was never a superstar. But it was fun. And these days, well, knocking a few balls around can be kind of therapeutic.”

  “I prefer chocolate,” Sara said. “Or a good martini.”

  “Oh, I do those, too.” Maggie bent forward and examined Sara’s grip on the bat. “That’s close enough. Now, headgear.” She picked up a helmet and passed it to Sara.

  Sara leaned the bat against the edge of the cage and put the helmet on, turning to check on Dougal. He was sniffing happily around the enclosed grass.

  “Do I need to call him back in?” she asked Maggie.

  Maggie shrugged. “He’s probably okay. Does he like fetch? Maybe he’ll bring the balls back for us.” She picked up one of the buckets of balls.

  Sara eyed them doubtfully. “A baseball might be kind of a mouthful. And hard on the baseballs.” Though Dougal would probably manage it if he could. He was kind of ball-crazy.

  “Hard to hurt practice balls too much,” Maggie said. “And one thing we’re well stocked up on here is baseballs. Okay, let’s go. I’ll pitch. That’s easier than using the ball machine.”

  That sounded good to Sara. She took up position at the far end of the cage. Maggie walked backward with the balls then plucked one out of the bucket. She took up a stance that Sara thought looked a little too good based on what she’d seen in Orlando.

  “Go easy on me,” she said. “Complete idiot here, remember?”

  “Sorry.” Maggie adjusted her stance to something a bit more relaxed. “Force of habit.”

  “Let me guess, you were a pitcher?”

  Maggie lobbed the ball underarm and Sara swung at it. To her surprise, she actually connected. But the ball didn’t go very far. She grimaced.

  “It’s a start,” Maggie said. “And I was kind of an all-arounder. I batted mostly but I could pitch a bit if I had to. But like I said, I was no superstar.” She smiled suddenly. “You know, if you want to learn to pitch, you should ask Lucas to teach you.” She lobbed the ball again.

  Sara swung without thinking about it. “L-Lucas?” The bat connected again, this time with a more solid thunk, and the ball headed back in Maggie’s direction. Maggie stuck out her glove and caught it easily. Dougal, attracted by the noise, came trotting over to investigate and sat by Maggie’s feet.

  “Did Lucas play baseball?” Sara asked, then wished she hadn’t when she saw Maggie’s smile turned smug. Damn, she’d taken the bait.

  “Sure did,” Maggie said. “All three of them played in college. That’s how they met. Didn’t he tell you that?”

  “It’s not the kind of thing we talk about,” Sara said.

  “Oh? What do you talk about?”

  “Mostly flight times and fuel bills,” Sara said firmly. “Let me try again.”

  Maggie shrugged and pitched another.

  Miraculously, Sara hit it for the third time in a row.

  “Lucas was a great pitcher. I’ve looked at his stats. He probably would’ve made it to the majors,” Maggie said, watching the ball sail past her.

  Don’t ask what happened, don’t ask what happened. Sara bit the inside of her cheek.

  “You don’t want to know what happened?”

  Sara forced a shrug. “Not really my business.”

  “Really?” Maggie looked skeptical as she scooped up another ball.

  “Really. Throw another one.”

  “The correct term is pitch, not throw.”

  “Pitch it, then,” Sara said.

  Maggie stared at her a moment and then nodded. “If that’s what you want. I’ll go a little faster this time.”

  At the end of another forty minutes or so, Dougal was sound asleep in a sunny patch near the benches and Sara’s arms were starting to ache. “Time out,” she called. “Or whatever they say in baseball.”

  “Time out is right,” Maggie said. She jogged back toward the benches, opened the tote bag, and produced two bottles of water and a plastic container of the promised cookies.

  Sara swigged water gratefully then took a cookie.

  “You know, you’re not so bad,” Maggie said. “We’ll have you trained up in no time. You’ll be the star rookie in the staff game.”

  “Only if you bribe me with a lifetime supply of these.”

  Maggie offered her the box. Sara took another one. Pecan and caramel and chocolate exploded on her tongue.

  “You know, if you really don’t want to play, that’s okay. We do other things, too. Like next weekend. There’s a big fund-raising ball for our youth program.”

  “A ball? Tuxedos and gowns and dancing?” She knew that expensive charity events were a thing but somehow she
didn’t associate them with baseball.

  “Yes.” Maggie took another cookie. “It’s going to be great. I have a kick-ass dress. Maybe so kick-ass that I shouldn’t eat this.” She bit into the cookie, chewed, and swallowed. “Then again, life’s too short not to eat cookies. And I fully intend to ply Alex with alcohol after the official part and get him to relax for a night.” She grinned happily while she contemplated that prospect.

  Sara felt a twinge of envy. That part sounded nice—the relaxing-with-a-hot guy part. She wasn’t sold on frocks and tuxedos and lots of attention. But she couldn’t help asking about Maggie and Alex. “So how did you and Alex get together anyway? I would’ve thought that you’d hate the guy who bought your team.”

  Maggie laughed. “It wasn’t exactly love at first sight. But somehow chemistry has a way of sneaking up on you. Alex is…” She paused, looking suddenly lost in thought. Then she shook herself and smiled again. “He’s Alex and apparently that’s it for me. He’s a great guy. All three of them are. You know, if you want some more lessons in this—” She waved at the batting cage. “—I’ll get the guys to teach you. You can learn from the best.”

  “Wouldn’t the best be the actual players?”

  “Yeah, but they’re not here. Ollie might, if you asked him nicely next time you get to Vero Beach.”

  “Not sure my kind of asking nicely is Ollie’s kind,” Sara said. She’d bantered with Ollie a few more times since their first meeting and was starting to figure out that there was a good guy beneath the swagger. Not her kind of guy, but not the big-man-on-campus superstar sex-god baseball player he played, either.

  “Well, that leaves you with Alex, Mal, and Lucas,” Maggie said.

  At her feet, Dougal suddenly clambered up and starting barking, the fur on his back bristling. Crap. Sara grabbed for his leash, looking around to see what had set him off. And saw Alex walking toward them with Lucas. Dougal must have spotted Lucas as well, because his barks eased back a little.

  “Speak of the devil. Or two of them at least,” Maggie said.

  “I thought we’d agreed I wasn’t the devil,” Alex said as the guys reached them.