Out of His League Page 15

  He was staring at her, too. Up and down. He looked like he’d been whacked by a baseball in the head, slightly dazed. Thank you, Ashley, for the sexy dress.

  “Um, Elizabeth?” Bobby said. “We’re going for lunch at Legal Sea Foods. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “No,” Jon said. “She is not.”

  She felt herself deflate. Jon’s face had hardened, and he didn’t look likely to change his mind. He was angry with her, and for good reason.

  This was all a mistake. She really should leave.

  “Elizabeth, what do you think about the scandal with the pitching staff?” Frank asked. This was the first he’d spoken, and his voice was richer and deeper than she would have guessed. So similar to Jon’s voice, it was eerie.

  “Um...” She faced the TV. The men were watching one of those sports discussion programs where the sportswriters analyzed players and teams. Jon looked distinctly uncomfortable by it, but his brothers were hanging on to every word.

  “Don’t,” Jon said through his teeth. He picked up the remote control and turned off the television.

  “Hey, I was watching that,” his father said from the videoconference.

  “Don’t listen to them,” Jon said to her. “They don’t know anything.”

  “Elizabeth, do you want something to drink?” Bobby asked her. He was obviously the polite one.

  “Um...”

  “She doesn’t,” Jon said. “She was just leaving.”

  If only she could. She felt crushed by the way Jon was treating her. She longed to head for the door, but Brandon was counting on her. She pictured his little face, filled with hope, and then crushed with defeat if she came home empty-handed.

  “No, I’m afraid I can’t leave just yet,” she murmured. “I...really need to speak with you, Jon.”

  He raised one tired brow. And good grief, her hormones went into overdrive. But he...didn’t care about her. Not anymore, because she had blown it. Per usual, she had pushed away somebody who’d wanted to get close to her, even somebody kind. It was as if she couldn’t trust kind people. She always figured there had to be an angle. And, oh, it was just so much easier being alone, wasn’t it?

  But she wasn’t alone, not for the next three weeks until Ashley returned home.

  “Fine,” Jon said. “I need to take a shower and change clothes first.” He looked pointedly at her. “You can come with me and talk, or you can stay out here and wait.”

  “I’ll, uh, stay out here.”

  “Exactly what I thought,” he said. With his face unreadable, he pointed to his brothers and his father. “Entertain Dr. LaValley until I get back. And keep the damn TV off for the duration.”

  Elizabeth sucked in her breath. “It’s okay. I’ll wait outside—”

  “No,” Jon said.

  And while she watched, incredulous, he stalked across the hardwood floors and into another room. A door slammed shut. Faintly, she heard a shower running.

  There was dead silence in the room. She shifted from high heel to high heel and glanced to the youngest brother, Bobby. He was still standing beside her, smiling. “Do you want to sit down?” he asked. He pushed Frank’s feet to the carpet and moved some papers, making a spot for Elizabeth on the couch between him and Frank, and facing their father on the video screen.

  “Certainly.” She exhaled. As gracefully as she could, she stepped over Bobby’s feet and wiggled into the space between him and Frank. Immediately, she sank into the big comfortable cushions. All three men were doing their level best not to look at her legs but were failing. Her dress was inching up over her knees, so she tugged at it, unsuccessfully. This was the last time she was listening to an eight-year-old and a geriatric for fashion advice.

  “I’m sorry I interrupted,” she said to the men. “It really will only take a few minutes to talk to Jon and then I’ll leave.”

  “How do you know him?” Frank asked in that deep, Jon-like voice. And like Jon, he had a scowl on his face. “Are you really a doctor?”

  “I... Yes. Of course I am.” Should she be insulted? “I was Jon’s anesthesiologist.”

  The three of them let that sink in. They glanced from one another, then to her. Their father asked, “Is his hand okay? Or is it gonna be a career-ender?”

  “Um...” She got the impression that Jon didn’t share much with them. This was interesting, considering she had thought him so eager to please. “I’m not his surgeon or his primary care doctor, so I really can’t say.” In fact, she couldn’t discuss his case with them at all. There were laws against it.

  Changing the subject, she asked, “What was the topic on television just now?”

  “Are you a baseball fan?” Bobby asked.

  “I...” Oh, what the heck. “Yes, I am,” she said softly.

  “Who’s your favorite player?” Frank demanded.

  Was this a test? She could say Jon, but that would be seen as sucking up. She could mention Rico Martinez, her favorite pitcher in the playoffs, because she really did admire him. But that might insult Jon.

  “I like catchers,” she said. This also was true. She admired them as tough, strong leaders who seemed to run the game equally with the pitchers, but under less fanfare and scrutiny. Sort of like how she felt as the anesthesiologist on a surgical team sometimes.

  “Catchers?” Frank made a guffaw. “Does Jon know that?”

  “Some of his best friends have been catchers,” Bobby reminded them. He turned his eyes on hers. A light baby-blue, similar to Jon’s but without the sharpness. “Which catcher do you like best?”

  There was one catcher she remembered...what was his name? “Gioni,” she said. A name from her childhood. She remembered that she’d liked that it rhymed with pony. “He wore his hair long, like Jon does, and he had the same dark, tanned skin. I always cheered when he was up to bat.”

  “Carl Gioni.” The father shook his head on the videoconference screen. “Wow, that name is a blast from the past. I loved him, too.”

  “He made it into Cooperstown,” Bobby said.

  Cooperstown, New York—that was the site of the national baseball museum.

  “Made it on the first ballot,” Frank remarked.

  “That would be awesome if we could get Jon in there.” Bobby picked up his soda bottle.

  “Not a chance,” their father said.

  They all three looked into their drinks.

  Elizabeth looked at her hands splayed on her lap. Their silence made her uncomfortable. And a little angry.

  “I don’t see why not,” she said.

  Three heads jerked up. They stared at her.

  “Jon is...working on a new pitch for the new season.” Brandon had told her that, too. “And...and he’s doing community service for the team charity.” The reason she was here.

  “Yeah, but Jon is too old to begin work on the Cooperstown dream,” Frank said.

  “And I was too young to begin work on the medical school dream,” she snapped. “I don’t see what difference that makes.”

  “Rose-colored glasses,” the father muttered.

  “Pardon me?” she said to the screen.

  “You’re just like Jon. Wearing those rose-colored glasses. Seeing the world as better than it is.”

  “That’s a laugh.” She leaned her face closer to the screen, so she could see him more clearly. He had a beaten expression and downcast eyes. “I’m the most practical person I know. And Jon is extremely down-to-earth, as well. Don’t you believe that he can accomplish anything he sets his mind to?”

  * * *

  JON STOOD BEHIND the bathroom door, cracked open an inch, just enough for him to eavesdrop.

  His heart was in his throat. Standing in that thick field of steam, naked except for a towel around his waist and a bandage on his finger.

  He hadn’t wanted to like Lizzy again. Damn, but he didn’t need the heartache. He needed an unrequited, hard-on crush for another man’s woman like he needed a second tumor on his finger—but here i
t was, anyway.

  This lady had made it clear to him, on more than one occasion, that he was nothing to her. That he was a means to an end, and Jon was tired of being other people’s means to an end. He was trying to be selfish and to think of himself for a change. But it was so damn difficult for him—not who he was at all.

  He was the pack mule of his family. The guy who kept up Dad’s spirits, who showed Frank and Bobby what was possible in life, if a person didn’t lie down and just quit trying. And it worked for Jon—or, it usually did.

  Until he’d met Lizzy. The one woman in Boston who wasn’t charmed or impressed by him, not at all.

  He knew she didn’t like him. She’d shown him so many times. So why was she sitting in his living room sticking up for him? Saying the same things to his dad that he would have said had he been there, too.

  Jon had gone into the bathroom to shower, fully expecting her to walk away. No way had he expected Dr. LaValley—antisocial, awkward Dr. LaValley—to sit down with three male baseball fans, all gloom and doom over the impending end to Jon’s career.

  They were mourning his career without even trusting him to turn it around, for cripes sake.

  He silently stalked to his bedroom, opened a drawer and took out a pair of clean underwear, a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and put them on. Barefoot, his hair combed but still wet, he went back to the living room.

  He still didn’t know what he was going to say to her. Originally, he’d vowed to have nothing to do with her or her problem with Brandon, whatever it was.

  Now...she’d given him hope. And it was the worst, damn thing, because in his view of the world, leopards didn’t change their spots, and neither did people. People were who they were.

  Except, Lizzy’s eyes lit up this time when she saw him. He stopped dead in his tracks. What. The. Hell. What had happened to her threats to report him to the hospital? She hated him, didn’t she? As a man, she had no respect for him. He’d reached out to her, told her something true about himself and she had stomped his heart into the ground.

  She stood. “Jon...” She visibly swallowed. Looked him up and down. And blushed as red as her dress.

  He froze, not knowing what to do. Like a green kid, he looked her up and down, too. Under her loose, boxy hospital scrubs—and even under her boxy at-home weekend sweatpants—he’d had no idea of the body she was rocking. He had imagined, many times, but even his imagination wasn’t this good. That hot, red dress clung to all her curves. What man wouldn’t imagine picking it up by the hem, peeling it over her long, bare legs and tugging off that belt at her waist? His heart hammering, his gaze tripped over hers and then met it. The tip of her tongue came out slightly, but her lip bit it back. She gazed down to the toes of her sexy shoes, embarrassed.

  He shook his head. Damn. A medical doctor who had a whole other side to her. And when she turned to glance back at his brothers, struck dumb with silence as they sat on the couch just staring up at her rear view... Holy shit, he had to get her out of here.

  “Elizabeth,” he said, striding forward. “Can I talk to you in private?”

  She looked relieved. Smoothing her dress, she crossed the room to him as Bobby, Francis and his dad looked on, still mesmerized.

  Jon loved his apartment. Usually, he thought it was a great space. But the floor plan was open, and the only room with a door, giving them privacy was...his bedroom.

  “No.” She turned away once she saw his bed. In a low voice, she said, “Maybe, um, we can talk in the hallway.”

  Right. He was beginning to realize it was pretty obvious why she had come. “You want to talk about Brandon, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  Feeling irritable, he motioned her to the balcony off the living room. With a view over the Boston skyline, it was the main reason he’d leased the place. Normally, he enjoyed the floor-to-ceiling panorama, but not when his family could sit on the couch and watch him and Elizabeth through the window like a front-row seat to a floor show.

  Unfortunately, once outside, Elizabeth pressed against the windbreak, taking a position on the balcony with her back to his family. Great. He faced them, which at least allowed him to keep his expression neutral. Even with his bare feet cold from the cement slab, he didn’t move a muscle. No way was he showing anyone that he cared what this woman thought, rocking body or not.

  Resist her. He had to. Because in no universe was the refined Dr. Elizabeth LaValley ever going to consider falling for a guy like him.

  * * *

  JON LOOKED LIKE he just wanted her gone. And she was so pathetic...dazzled by his presence and not even minding the cool air outside.

  He had to be colder than her. His hair was damp. His arms were bare in his short-sleeved T-shirt as he stared at her, his face stony.

  She tugged on her dress again, willing it to cover her better. “I’m sorry I bothered you at home over this, but I didn’t see any other options.”

  He clenched his jaw. “What do you want, Elizabeth? Spit it out.”

  Not even Lizzy? Had she pushed him too hard? She swallowed. “Brandon is...more upset than I’ve ever seen him. He really wants to be part of your program at the hospital. He idolizes you.”

  “He shouldn’t idolize me. I’m no hero.”

  Why was he saying that? “Is this about...whatever is playing on that television program your family was watching?” She hooked her thumb toward the living room.

  “No,” he said flatly. “It is not.”

  Drop the subject. That’s what he was telling her. Though she didn’t understand what baseball players typically went through in the off-season, she could see that whatever it was, it seemed to be taking its toll on him, because he lacked his characteristic patience. She needed to get straight to the point.

  But it was a scary point. What if he said no? Curling her windblown hair over her ears, she stared at the ocean in the distance, hoping he would cooperate. “Will you please let Brandon back into the program?”

  “And here I thought you were so dead set against it,” Jon drawled.

  Did he want her to apologize? Fine. She walked to the railing. “I...was wrong.” She bit her lip. “I made the decision from my point of view, not from Brandon’s.”

  “You can’t even look at me when you speak.”

  She inhaled and dared to gaze into Jon’s beautiful blue eyes. He seemed hurt. Well, she was, too.

  She wished he understood that she wasn’t like other people. She would love to be naturally feminine: adept at handling children and chatting with charming men. Ashley could do that so well. Susan Vanderbilt, too. But Elizabeth was just...an outsider. Being with Jon like this brought it all to the forefront...the pain, the awkwardness.

  “You can’t look at me without making a face,” he said.

  If only he could step inside her shoes. “I’m frightened, okay? I’m...frightened for Brandon, and I’m frightened for me. I don’t know how I’m going to survive another three weeks of this.”

  “And I make you feel frightened?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” she said.

  “You’re a doctor, Lizzy. You’re way out of my league.”

  She gaped at him. “Everybody loves you. You’re so comfortable with people. I only know how to keep to myself.”

  Jon looked her up and down. “Why did you come wearing that red dress today?”

  She made a small laugh. “Brandon found it in the back of my closet. I’ve never worn it before. But he really wants to be in the Sunshine Club program. He foolishly thought this getup might help.” She sighed at him. “Can’t you please get him back in? Don’t let my mistakes and insecurities hurt him.”

  He smiled widely at her. “You look nice in that dress.”

  He wasn’t making fun of her. At least, she didn’t think so....

  “Why was the dress in your closet?” he pressed. “Did some guy buy it for you?”

  She laughed out loud at that one. “No!”

  “What did you buy it fo
r, then? A big event? A date?”

  Yeah, right. She snickered. “I did not buy it. Ashley did. I was helping her with Brandon, finding the best doctors to treat his illness, and she wanted me to celebrate with her when his chemo was completed. And we were all set to. Until...” She looked down.

  “What happened?”

  Why was she even telling Jon this? She shivered, a rogue gust of wind sweeping past them. “His cancer came back.” She tried not to think about it but failed. “We thought he wouldn’t make it.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Poor Ashley. Maybe she still couldn’t trust that Brandon might be well for the rest of his life. Brandon was small for his age. His growth had been stunted. Jon was sweet to spend time with the boy and talk with him about baseball, even though it was obvious that Brandon had little chance of ever playing at Jon’s level, no matter how much he practiced. Brandon would always show the effects of the cancer he’d fought and survived.

  “I really do love that little boy. Please, Jon. Let him be part of your Sunshine Club program.”

  Jon looked at her with a careful, hard poker face, and it scared her. It crushed her to think of going home and having to say “no” to Brandon again. And it hurt her that Jon didn’t care for her anymore. He may have once, but she’d scared him away, too. She had secretly hoped upon hope that maybe Jon could be the one guy she wouldn’t scare away. That there was a crazy possibility that he had seen beneath her prickly mask, her skin of protection, to the vulnerable, frightened...human...person beneath the doctor’s scrubs. “Please help Brandon, Jon. Please.”

  * * *

  “I DON’T WANT to help Brandon. I want to help you.”

  Jon watched her reaction. Lizzy blinked at him, shocked. Well, he was shocked too. Lizzy had been the one who’d accused him of helping people too much, that first night he’d met her at her condo.

  “How do you want to help me?” she asked.

  He rocked back on his bare heels and let himself leisurely look her up and down. He let his gaze linger on her belt, tied at the waist of a red, wraparound dress that she had apparently only worn this once. “Do you ever go out?” he asked her. “Do you ever do anything fun for yourself?”