Emma’s mouth turned down, thinking about her widening waistline. She wasn’t fat, but lately she’d put on a few extra pounds and the mention of tons of good food wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. Maybe if she worked doubly hard at the gym the next couple of days she could afford to indulge a little on the weekend.
In the end she found herself agreeing to meet Amanda on Saturday, at ten, at the park behind the police station. She thought about the last time she’d gone to a picnic, realizing at least twelve years had passed. That is if joining Amanda at school for lunch one day and eating on the playground qualified as a picnic.
* * * *
By the time Saturday arrived, Emma was almost looking forward to it. However, when it came time to dress, she found herself in a real dilemma. Her picnic attire options were practically non-existent. Amanda had often accused her of dressing older than her age. After standing in her walk-in closet for twenty minutes she was inclined to finally agree with her. She scanned the row of dresses and skirts. For the first time it occurred to her she’d been dressing to please Richard all those years. How could she not have realized it before now?
Memories flashed through her mind as early as when they’d been dating. He’d always preferred her to dress conservatively and feminine. Thinking about her ex caused Emma to pause from what she was doing for a moment. Two years had gone by since their amicable divorce. She wondered how long it would take to wipe away the memory of being with the same man for ten years. At least thinking about him and his betrayal with another woman wasn’t as painful anymore. She actually hoped he was happy finally, because she certainly hadn’t been able to make him happy.
They’d sold their restaurant business and most of their joint holdings, splitting everything right down the middle. Once the divorce was final Richard hadn’t wasted any time in marrying his little waitress, who was twelve years his senior, and leaving town. The last she heard they were living in the sunshine state.
The house was the last asset between them and Emma had been allowed to live in it until it was sold. However, that all changed once she’d signed the papers two days ago. Now there was nothing left to prove they’d even been married. She hadn’t kept so much as a single photo of just the two of them together. She gave herself a little shake, annoyed for letting Richard monopolize her thoughts again. He was history. She was looking forward to moving into her new town house down at the lake.
Reaching for an old pair of jeans hanging at the back of the closet, Emma wondered why she’d kept them. A long time had gone by since she’d had a reason to wear them, recalling she’d only purchased them to go on a weekend camping trip with Amanda and her class one year. Ten years and at least ten pounds ago… Doubts surfaced that she’d be able to get into them as she yanked them off the hanger. By the time she managed to work them over her hips and zip them up, she was gasping as if just running a mile on the treadmill.
She stepped out of the closet, facing the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. Her mouth turned down at the picture she presented in skintight jeans and lacy bra. Maybe an over-sized shirt would help complete the look she was going for. A quick glance at the clock on the dresser revealed it was nine-thirty and she was running out of time. Well, who was she hoping to impress anyway? She quickly slipped the jeans back off and took a pair of scissors to them, cutting them off at mid thigh before grabbing the ends of her shirt and tying them together at her waist. Sighing at her reflection, she slipped into a pair of sneakers, grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the door.
Amanda wasn’t going to recognize her.
Chapter 2
The Stratton Police Department was a small building located on the outskirts of town. It took Emma almost five minutes to locate a legal parking spot for her little car. The last thing she wanted to do was park illegally at a police station of all places. Though it appeared some had been made, she couldn’t bring herself to park in any of the no parking zones. Recognizing Amanda’s black Toyota, she squeezed into the tight spot between it and Troy’s red pickup.
She could hear the picnickers long before she saw them. She followed the noise by walking around the station house and not cutting through it as she noticed several others doing. Her eyes widened with surprise. Amanda hadn’t been exaggerating when she said the whole town would most likely turn out. Stratton wasn’t all the big, twenty-two hundred according to the last census taken, and it appeared as if a third of them were there.
Smoke was turning the air blue as several grills had been brought in and were cranked up full blast, as was a huge smoker several men were tending, beers in hand, laughing at some joke, she was sure. Rows of picnic tables were hidden beneath bright plastic tablecloths, covered with platters of food and beverages. Huge coolers of ice had been set up on the ground next to the drinks.
The park was little bigger than a few football fields, yet a corner off in the back had been set aside for baseball. Right now there was a game going on and Emma headed in that direction, knowing that’s where she’d find Amanda. She reached the fence that protected bystanders from flying balls within minutes, wondering if the small speck she saw out in left field was Amanda. She was certain she recognized the red and yellow Winnie the Pooh tee shirt her sister favored.
All at once the sun made an appearance from behind a cloud, reminding Emma she’d forgotten her sunglasses. Forced to shield her eyes with her hand, she was aware of a noise that ended her search for Amanda, bringing her attention to the pitcher’s mound where she watched him pitch the ball. The batter hit the ball back toward the pitcher who caught it, before pivoting and throwing it to third base in one fluid motion. For a second she became absorbed with the game, and the split second reactions of the pitcher that promptly ended the inning.
Everyone in outfield began running toward the dugout nearest her. Yet, they were a blur of activity around her. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the pitcher. Something about him struck a familiar cord in her, making her wonder if she’d seen him somewhere before. He was handsome. Not drop dead gorgeous but good looking in a rough, outdoorsy sort of way, definitely worth a second glance.
He was wearing gray athletic shorts and a faded blue tee shirt with writing on it Emma couldn’t make out, stained darker in places that revealed he’d been playing hard. As he stepped off the pitcher’s mound, he whipped off his baseball hat, running his hand through his overlong matted hair, which was black and glistening like a raven’s wing, probably because of sweat. She stared at his powerful well-muscled torso as he moved toward her. Purely feminine interest compelled her to take in the thick, corded muscles of his tanned thighs and long athletic legs. The way his shorts clung to the front of his generous attributes, he definitely looked like a male in his prime.
Realizing what she was doing, she gazed up at his face, her cheeks turning hot with embarrassment. He was looking directly at her, a crooked grin on his masculine mouth that caused a little flutter in her belly. To make matters worse, Emma finally recognized him as Officer Handsome. She immediately averted her gaze, pretending she hadn’t just been staring at him, or that he’d caught her. She quickly focused on Amanda who was running in and had yet to recognize her.
Amanda’s gaze skimmed over her before she did a double take. “Mom?” Emma couldn’t help be aware that several heads turned their way as her voice carried. “Where did you get those clothes?” She stared at Emma with something close to awe.
“Would you believe in my closet?” She grinned, following Amanda along the fence when she dropped her speed to join her. “I had to do a couple alterations for the occasion.”
“You look…” She paused as if searching for the right word, examining Emma as though she were a new species.
“Different, sexy.”
Tugging at the shirt ends tied at her waist, Emma made a face. “I don’t feel sexy. And I can’t remember the last time I wore cut-offs. I think I cut them too short.”
“If I know the men around here
, not short enough. And look around you; there’s a lot of women here wearing the same thing,” Amanda pointed out, slipping off her glove and hanging it alongside the others on top of the fence. “Did you just get here?”
Emma nodded. “How much longer before the game’s over?”
“This is the last inning. Come around and sit in the dugout with us.”
Meaning her, Troy, and all the other players. Emma wasn’t sure she wanted to be stuck in a dugout full of men, especially with the one she’d been ogling a few minutes ago. Nevertheless, she found herself walking around to join Amanda anyway.
“Hi, Mom.” Surprise filled Troy’s eyes as they gazed over the length of her. “Wow!” His eyebrows danced crazily. “Hubba hubba!”
Hubba hubba? Where in the world had he heard that expression? Emma spared him an affectionate glance, ignoring his over-zealous exclamation. He’d started calling her Mom about six months into his relationship with Amanda, which was now going on a year and a half. They’d talked about marriage but Amanda wanted to graduate from college first, which Emma wholly supported. It wasn’t that she disliked Troy. She adored him and he and Amanda seemed suited to each other, getting along unusually well. Still, Emma knew career goals sometimes had a way of getting in the way of a growing relationship.
These days Troy was very committed to finishing out his probation period with the police department, putting that first on his list of priorities.
She ruffled his sweaty blonde hair, making a face and wiping her palm on her shorts. “Hi, son,” she teased with a smile on her face. “Are we winning today?”
His face suddenly looked years younger. “You bet!”
Smiling at his boyish enthusiasm, she glanced up, her gaze falling on a dark shadow standing at the back of the dugout. Officer Handsome, or rather, Mike Denton. Her breath locked in her throat, and she knew the heat flowing through her body had little to do with the temperature. In addition, she was sure her heart skipped a beat. No man should be that sexy in dirty, sweaty clothes. She glanced away before he caught her staring at him a second time.
* * * *
Mike was getting a drink from the water cooler located at the far end of the dugout when someone let out a low wolf whistle, drawing his immediate attention. He glanced up in time to see Emma making sure the buttons to her shirt were done up, a gesture he was sure she wasn’t aware of doing. His gaze then shot to Pete, a fellow teammate and the culprit behind the whistle. There was no doubt it had been meant for Emma. He looked as happy as a kid running after an ice cream truck, his eyes dancing with harmless admiration as he nodded at Mike in her direction.
Pete liked women in general so his lusty expression wasn’t to be taken seriously. Still, Mike didn’t like the implication behind it. His gaze returned to Emma, moving over her lazily. He smiled when he saw her tug her shorts down at the back of her thighs. It was obvious she was uncomfortable as hell. She shouldn’t be; she had a nice body and very nice legs. It was while his eyes were taking a leisurely stroll back up to her face that Troy’s greeting finally registered, causing his eyes to narrow on her.
Mom? His ears must be full of wax. That morning in her house he thought she’d looked around thirty but the way she was dressed now didn’t make her look old enough to be the mom of anyone over five. Furthermore, Mike knew for a fact she wasn’t Troy’s mom, which meant she had to be Amanda’s. He didn’t believe it. If she was over thirty he’d eat his hat. He looked long and hard at her face, seeing nothing that proved she could be the mother of a twenty-year-old. Nevertheless, he couldn’t deny the strong resemblance between her and Amanda.
Suddenly Emma looked directly at him and his mouth went dry, his pulse jumping erratically. The impact of those dark, smoky eyes went right through him, catching him unaware and sending his senses scrambling into overdrive. Making him think about that morning in her house a week ago, when they’d looked at him with such soft appeal. He could still remember the disappointment he’d felt when he got back to the station later that day to discover her story had checked out. He’d wanted an excuse to return to her house.
He took note of her high cheekbones and the generous fullness of a mouth that made him slightly hungry. A delicately sculptured nose and softly rounded chin he’d noticed the other day but hadn’t taken the time to truly appreciate because of the situation, and lack of time. Scrubbed free of makeup, she had the fresh, healthy appearance of any Dove soap commercial model he’d seen on TV. Strands of soft curling hair escaped the confines of her loose ponytail, gently blowing against the slim column of her neck.
As his gaze roamed down her body again, a smile caused the corners of his mouth to curve upward. Mike estimated Emma was a good foot shorter than he was which he bet contributed to her soft, luscious curves. And being a man who appreciated the female form, he narrowed his eyes on the dark cleavage between her full breasts just as Pete moved to his side, snagging his attention.
“Hey, man, check it out.” He elbowed Mike in the ribs with enough force to make him grunt. “A real looker, huh?”
The very looker Mike had just been eyeing, only Pete had been so caught up in his own gawking he hadn’t noticed.
“No ring on the finger either,” Pete pointed out, talking low. “What do you think, twenty-five, twenty-six?”
If what Mike had just overheard were true, the woman in question could be forty. This would make her almost old enough to be Pete’s mom. That thought put a grin, if nothing else, on Mike’s face. “I didn’t know you were into older women.”
He felt more than saw Pete’s shrug. “She’s not that much older,” he said without care. “Besides, it doesn’t matter to me. Age can be a plus.” He gave Mike a lecherous grin that said more than words. “Experience and all that.”
Usually Pete didn’t bother him but for some odd reason his intense interest in Emma rubbed Mike the wrong way. “I just heard Troy call her ‘Mom’,” he informed him, wanting to erase the smitten look from the other man’s face.
Pete reared back with total surprise, his bushy eyebrows arched high. “You’re kidding, man! Tell me you’re just making that up. You just want her for yourself.”
Mike narrowed his eyes on Pete for a moment, resisting the urge to clobber him. What the heck was the matter with him? He shook his head with disgust, deciding there was no getting through to him. Against his will, Mike’s gaze returned to Emma. She and Amanda were slowly making their way in his direction and Amanda was making a half-hearted attempt at introductions along the way. His eyes followed the responses of the players sitting on the bench as they walked by, watching their eyes roam appreciatively over Emma. There wasn’t one man who didn’t show an interest in the shapely hips and legs paraded before them.
Mike didn’t know where it came from but he was hit with a jolt of jealousy so unexpected it sucked his breath away. He quickly turned back to the water cooler for another drink, hoping it would calm his suddenly taut nerves. The thought crossed his mind that he might as well take the damn thing and hold it over his head. He had no claim on Emma, so why was he feeling so possessive towards her?
God, he prayed he wasn’t as transparent as he felt.
* * * *
As they moved slowly along, Emma did her best to keep a wooden smile on her face, acknowledging the introductions in some small way. She’d never remember all their names and after the eighth or ninth man, their dirty, sweat streaked faces became a familiar blur. She knew they were all police officers but some of them didn’t look old enough to shave. Still, it didn’t keep them from looking at her like she was an attractive woman. That knowledge sent a little thrill through her, even as it embarrassed her.
It was obvious they were heading to the end of the bench where there was room to sit, but Emma would have been content to remain out of the dugout altogether. Her only consolation was they weren’t the only women there. As they neared the end of the dugout, she stared at Mike. He was getting a drink, but she was sure he’d been watching her ea
rlier. She couldn’t help be aware of him too, watching the muscles flex in his biceps as he brought the cup to his lips. Observing the way the corded muscles in his throat worked as he drank. Emma sensed he knew she was there, yet he didn’t appear in any hurry to acknowledge her.
“Mike, I’d like you to meet Mom, I mean Emma,” Amanda said, pushing Emma in front of her as though she were a shy, reluctant child.
Surprise caused Emma’s head to snap in Amanda’s direction. There was definitely something different in her tone this time, a difference that caused alarm to shoot through her, which settled in her belly like a five-pound box of chocolates. The feeling became worse when she caught Amanda glancing at Troy, who was sitting there with his arms crossed, shaking his head with disgust. If Emma didn’t know better, the happy go lucky Troy was almost angry. With a resigned sigh, she glanced at Mike, beginning to wonder if he was going to ignore them, when he finally turned, with obvious reluctance, to acknowledge them. Crushing the empty cup in his hands, he tossed it into the nearby garbage can.
He acknowledged Amanda briefly before directing his slightly amused gaze on Emma. “This is chunky mama?” he asked in disbelief.
Emma’s startled gaze flew to Amanda, who’d recently taken to calling her that when they were working out at the gym together. Apparently that wasn’t the only time she used it in reference to her. “I see you know our family secret,” she breathed softly, her words meant for him only. She held her hand out. “But I won’t hold it against you.
Nice to meet you, Mike.”
For a moment it looked as though he wasn’t going to return her handshake. He stared at her outstretched hand as if it were a poisonous snake or something before finally grasping it. Emma couldn’t ignore the sharp current of awareness traveling up her arm when they touched. She wondered if he felt it too.
Kiss Me Page 2
