Playing the Field: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel

by Jennifer Seasons

  JP was a straightforward kind of guy. He liked what he liked, knew who he was and what he wanted. All his life he’d had a clear line on what made him tick and had never doubted himself. It made for a life free of tangles.

  He saw something—he made a decision. He didn’t look over his shoulder. Because of that, JP knew he had a certain kind of centeredness that was rare for a guy in his mid-twenties. He possessed a clearness of sight that had guided him faithfully and gave him grounding. Right now that sight was set on a cool drink of water—and this Iowa farm boy was real thirsty.

  JP tugged at the brim of his hat and flashed his best grin. Stirring, prepping to walk over to her, his teammate Drake Paulson cut him off before he’d managed a step.

  “Hey, brother. Looks like we got ourselves a perfect day for playing ball.” The player grinned and scratched his unshaven chin. “Course, it’s a perfect day for a different kinda sport too. The horizontal sort that makes me tingly and happy. What say we have us a bet, man? First to score a phone number from a single mom gets dibs on the ice bath after practice tomorrow.”

  Sliding a sideways glance at the gruff player, JP shook his head and said, “Don’t seem fair to bet on single moms, hoss.”

  “Why not? They want to get laid, same as the rest of us.”

  JP’s eyebrow arched at the logic. They probably did want to get laid, same as them. But they had kids to consider. That made it different.

  “I don’t know what kind of women you’ve been playing tickle with lately, but they aren’t right.”

  Drake clamped a hard, meaty hand on his shoulder and turned them both toward his fantasy woman in the hippie skirt. He tipped his head in her direction. “You telling me that you wouldn’t give your left nut to have her phone number, boy?”

  Through the crowd of excited children, media, and helicopter parents, he studied her. A colorful woven purse the size of a small suitcase hung crosswise across her body and her fair skin made him think of winters back home in Iowa. Pristine and flawless. Her long, wavy hair was more gold than red and her curves were the perfect balance between lanky and lush. And when she smiled at the boy by her side, her whole face lit up.

  Would he give his left nut for her number?

  Yeah.

  Sometimes he wondered at the things Drake knew. The guy said things that bordered on offensive more often than not. But the hell of it was that he was eerily perceptive. JP had only been with the team for a season, but he’d already seen that guy’s sharp observations prove correct countless times.

  Pulled from his thoughts when a cleat dug into the back of his knee and buckled it, nearly making him fall, JP turned his head as pitcher Peter Kowalskin stepped beside him. He held a paper plate full of food and was chewing on something. “What’s got you girls so enamored over here?”

  Of all his team mates, JP liked Pete the best. Not that the other guys weren’t great, because they were. It was just that he and Pete were a lot alike. They both grabbed life by the horns and bent it in whatever direction they wanted. And they both did it with smiles on their faces. However life decided to be, sideways or upside down, they were always on top.

  It gave a guy a helluva lot of confidence, and it made him one ballsy son of a bitch.

  Drake shoved up the brim of his cap and scratched at an itch, his eyes squinting against the sun’s glare. “Trying to convince JP here to play a game of phone numbers.”

  A grin full of bad intentions lit Pete’s face. “Nice. Personally, I’m hoping that a hot single mom in need of some old-fashioned attention wins that raffle to have dinner with me.” The grin amped up a notch. “And breakfast in the morning.”

  Like magnets, JP’s eyes were drawn back to the woman with the bohemian vibe. Yeah, he’d settle for that too. It wouldn’t be a hardship to eat waffles with her in the morning. In fact, he bet he’d like it just fine.

  Aware that he was openly staring, JP noticed her cheeks suddenly seemed pinker than they had been before. Then he realized that she knew he was ogling her because she was blushing and trying hard to avoid looking at him in return.

  The boy, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of JP. And it gave him the perfect excuse to approach her. “We best be getting back to it, ladies. They’re going to be starting the raffle soon.”

  There were three winning raffle tickets for the day’s event. The prize was an all-expense paid dinner with a Rush player. He’d volunteered for it, alongside Pete and the catcher, Mark Cutter. It had sounded like fun, and he liked kids, so he’d signed up. Coming from a family of six of them himself, he’d long ago gotten used to the odd shit they said and did.

  Speaking of . . . “I’m going to mingle. Make yourselves useful, old men, and hit the rounds.”

  Before they could rib him about calling them old, he was on the move. He’d made it four feet when a boy ran up asking for his autograph. Giving the kid his undivided attention, JP inked his signature and chatted up the freckle-faced redhead for a few as a photographer stood a few feet away and tried to capture the moment. When the parents arrived and ushered the boy off, he scanned the crowd.

  He spotted her and her son and set off again. By the time they’d reached each other, he’d been stopped a half dozen times. Each time he’d given the kids and their families his complete attention. They deserved as much. But each time he did, it took a few minutes to find the woman again in the shifting crowd.

  Now he was finally standing in front of her and his interest had doubled. She was even prettier up close, but with an approachable earthiness that hadn’t been apparent from the distance. Her eyes were the color of his favorite old blue jeans, and she had freckles smattered across the bridge of her nose. Her lips were soft, plump, and naked. Just the way he liked them. And she smelled fresh and natural, with just a hint of something citrus.

  He wanted to eat her up.

  He gave her his most disarming smile as she regarded him with hesitation in her eyes. Instinct told him to play it slow, so he shifted his focus from her to the blond-haired boy at her side. All elbows and boney knees now, the kid was going to be tall someday. For now, he was stuck with a body that didn’t quite coordinate. JP remembered the days. He’d been skinny and gangly with the best of them.

  The boy had the same look about him with the nose freckles, light hair, and blue eyes. He looked about ten, excited as a pig in a parlor, and he gripped a ratty ball glove tightly in his hand. He stared up at JP with a look of hero worship in its purest form. He remembered what it was like to meet his favorite ballplayers as a kid, how it lit his world from end to end.

  Now on this side of things, he knew he had a responsibility to be deserving of such high status. Which was why, even though his dream woman was standing right there, he gave the kid his all. It’s what he was there for—to put face time in with these kids. To help them understand that diabetes didn’t have to limit them, and that they could have full, active lives so long as they kept on top of things. And that exercise was essential for diabetics. JP had a buddy who had diabetes and was a professional rock climber. It didn’t slow him down one bit. Kids went nuts when he shared that bit.

  Besides, he figured her having to wait on him would only whet her appetite.

  JP gestured to the worn glove. “That’s a great lookin’ mitt you have there.” The boy looked at it, eyes lit with pride. “I can tell it’s been well used. I’m JP, by the way. You play ball?”

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman shift and place a hand on the kid’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. And he also saw her gaze slide over him for a brief moment. Was that interest he glimpsed?

  The mitt was shoved under his nose and JP smelled leather and the outdoors. The kid explained, “I’ve been playing ball since I was in diapers. Least that’s what my mom says.”

  JP grinned at the visual and took the mitt, examining it. “Is that so? Moms always say weird stuff like that, don’t they?”

  The boy rolled his eyes wit
h exaggeration. “Totally.”

  JP relaxed and cocked a hip, his cleats puncturing the outfield grass as he settled. “What’s your name, kid?”

  The boy’s chest blew up like a puffer fish. “I’m Charlie Miller and this is my mom. Her name’s Sonny. She plays baseball pretty good for a girl.”

  The look she gave her son had JP laughing out loud.

  “What do you mean ‘for a girl’? Who schooled you and your friends last week at your birthday party with a homer that shot clear over the barn into the pasture?” She waggled her thumbs at her chest and JP couldn’t help scoping out her breasts for a second. “Oh, that’s right. It was me.”

  The sound of her voice surprised him. She had one of those Katherine Heigl voices that was all smoke and sex. It sent a shiver through his belly and had him thinking naughty thoughts. If it was this husky now, what would it be like during a hot romp in the sack?

  He caught her eye and their gazes connected, held. Something sparked, but before he could explore it she broke contact and looked away, her face a little flushed.

  She cleared her throat and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Trudeau. Charlie is a big fan and plays shortstop too. We were at a few Rush games this spring when you’d first been traded. He watched the way you fielded and decided he wanted to try out the position. It’s been a lot of fun for him.”

  JP reached out and ruffled the kid’s hair. “No kidding? You thinking of going pro someday, Charlie?”

  The boy nodded emphatically. “Definitely. What’s it like? Is it as cool as I think it is?”

  “It is, buddy,” he said after considering how cool his job would seem to a ten-year-old. “But it’s a lot of hard work and dedication too. You have to practice even when you don’t feel like it, and you have to be away from home a lot during the season.”

  Charlie nodded seriously. “That’d be okay.”

  “You miss your family some. And it’s hard to have a pet because you’re gone so much and don’t have time to take care of them properly.”

  With a nose wrinkled in contemplation, the boy replied, “Well, I gots my mom and she could watch my dog. We have a farm anyway, so there’s lots of room.”

  “Yeah?” He’d loved growing up on a farm. Couldn’t imagine a better place for a kid to roam. “I grew up on a farm too.”

  With a grin full of confidence, Charlie said, “I know. I’ve looked up all your stuff.”

  JP smiled and started to hand the glove back. “It’s about time for the raffle to start, so I’d better make my way to the stage.”

  Charlie pushed the mitt back. “Would you sign my mitt for me, please?”

  “Sure thing.” He reached in his pocket for a Sharpie and wrote his name across the thumb piece. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks!”

  JP figured he’d given her long enough and turned his gaze back to Sonny. “So you play some ball too?” he said, referring to the birthday ball game.

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said, “I played softball all through high school.”

  Her voice was seriously erotic. “Yeah? You from Colorado?”

  Sonny nodded. “Mostly.” A tentative smile cupped her lips. “I know you’re not.”

  “Ever been to Iowa?” He liked hearing her speak so much that he was willing to make small talk. Even if he sounded like an idiot.

  Her beautiful hair slid over her shoulders as she shook her head. “Nope. I’ve been exactly two places in my life. Here and California. But I imagine it’s humid and green and flat.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he glanced over to see a photographer settle into shooting position. Without thinking, he shifted to allow the guy an unobstructed shot of Sonny and her boy standing with him. Dealing with the media was second nature to him now and most of the time he didn’t mind. They were just part of the gig. He helped them out and they gave him good press, making his agent happy. It was win-win.

  Surprise ran through him though when Sonny shuffled, too, until she was almost standing behind him.

  “I’m just in the way of his shot,” she mumbled and turned her head to look behind her like she was searching for something, effectively shielding her face from the photographers.

  Amused at her camera shyness, JP grinned as he said to her, “It’s okay. I promise they don’t bite.” Then he winked down at Charlie and added, “Not hard anyway.”

  Over the sound of the boy’s giggles he barely heard her mutter dryly, “That’s reassuring.” Then she adjusted her shoulder bag and peered around him at the half dozen media personnel hovering nearby. “I don’t know why they’re interested in Charlie and me.”

  He did. The woman was a breath of fresh air.

  “Why don’t I stand over here?” he said. Obviously all the attention made her uncomfortable and for some reason he didn’t like the idea of her feeling uneasy. Taking two steps to his right, JP checked over his shoulder to make certain she was blocked and saw Kowalskin a few feet away. “Hey, Walskie. Toss me one of the balls you’re holding.”

  The pitcher arched a black brow. “What do you want my balls for?”

  “Ha ha, funny. For real. Give me one.” He had an idea to get the attention off of Sonny—or at least try anyway. Events like these were crawling with media and there was only so much he could do.

  Peter underhanded him a shiny white ball and smirked. “Play nice with it, big boy.”

  With a smile tugging at his lips, JP shook his head and caught the ball. Smartass. “Thanks.”

  Turning back around, he noted the growing crowd of photographers with no surprise. They had an uncanny ability to sense when something was about to go down. Like the time they’d caught Pete with his pants down after giving Drake a well-deserved mooning. His bare ass had wound up on the front page of a big tabloid with some derogatory headline he couldn’t remember now. He just recalled how Pete had laughed hysterically and then had the thing framed and hung in his living room.

  JP tried to be a little more publically reserved than that, but he still got his share of tabloid bullshit. It was just one of those things.

  “Hey, Charlie. Want to see a magic trick?”

  The kid nodded vigorously, “Yeah!”

  Glancing behind him to make sure the photographers were watching, he held up the ball and announced, “Now you see it, now you don’t.”

  That got their attention. Camera shutters started clicking as he went about amazing the boy with the one and only trick he knew. Even Sonny seemed to be fascinated. She kept leaning forward from her hideout a few feet away to get a better view. When he held out his hands in front of him and the ball had disappeared, Charlie’s eyes went wide. “No way!”

  “How did you do that?” came her sexy voice behind him.

  Not finished, JP shot her a wink and relaxed his stance. “Magic.”

  She gave him a face and he outright laughed. “I don’t believe in magic.”

  Now that was really just too bad. Everybody needed a little magic in their lives. “Here, Charlie. Why don’t you take my hat for a second?” He took off his cap and handed it to the kid.

  Thoroughly engrossed in the trick, the boy grabbed it eagerly and asked, “Where’d the ball go?” He’d been scanning the ground like he was hunting for Easter eggs.

  Sonny stepped up beside him and added, “The real question is if you can bring it back.” The skepticism in her tone implied she didn’t think he could.

  How wrong she was. “Thanks for holding my hat, kid. I’ll take it back now.”

  Charlie handed it back and JP made a display of putting it on his head. “Ouch. Man, what is that?” Faking confusion, JP pulled off his hat and turned it over, inside facing up. And right there in the center of his cap was the ball, snowy white in the afternoon sun.

  The boy practically shoved his face into the ball cap. “Holy cow! How did you do that?”

  One of the guys from the Post piped u
p nearby, scribbling furiously on a tiny notepad. “Hey, Trudeau. Want to introduce us to your friends?” He glanced up from the pad and adjusted his eyeglasses. “You know, for the byline.”

  JP flashed his best grin. “Sure. This here is Charlie Miller, shortstop for . . .” He trailed off and glanced down at the kid in question. “What’s your team’s name?”

  Charlie puffed out his chest and stood as tall as he could. To the reporter he boasted, “I play for the Longmont Hawks.”

  Sonny spoke up, her voice soft and kind of tense. “Is this just your normal? I mean, all these photographers and stuff?”

  Glancing down, he noted she looked tense too. He was so used to being in the public eye that he forgot how uncomfortable it could be to some. “Yeah, it’s pretty much just part of life. You get used to it.”

  She looked up at him and her gorgeous eyes shuttered. “I couldn’t do it.” He opened his mouth to respond when a thump thump on a microphone turned his attention toward the low stage. The event coordinator was almost ready to give her speech. That was his cue to get moving.

  “Hey, I have to go. But it was great meeting you, Charlie.”

  His gaze slid to Sonny. A lazy smile curved his lips. “It’s been a real pleasure.”

  He watched color bloom in her cheeks and couldn’t stop the heat that started to coil in his belly. Didn’t particularly want to, if truth be told. He’d never dated a single mom before, but then again he’d never encountered one like her either. It was more than just her looks and the fact that he was seriously attracted to her.

  She had something.

  And he had the rest of the event to figure out what he wanted to do about it. Because she had a kid and if, deep down, he was just after a piece of ass, then he’d have to find it somewhere else. Unlike Drake, he couldn’t mess with that just to get naked with a woman. Guess he was old-fashioned that way.

  Turning to leave, JP stopped when a slender hand touched his arm. He felt the zing of connection clear down to his toes. It was like a thread of electricity snaking a path through his body.