Out of His League Read online

  “Yes,” she insisted. “Of course I do!”

  “Really?” He gazed into her big brown eyes. “When was the last time you went out in Boston?”

  Her mouth opened and then closed. She had answered him without saying a word.

  “You live in a world-class city,” he said, “with so much to offer.” He spread his arms to the city below them.

  “I’m not here for me,” she said in a confident voice. “This request isn’t about me.”

  “To me it is. I want to take you out—on a date.”

  She blinked at him and shook her head. “No. Please just say yes to Brandon.”

  He turned for the living room. Saw through the window to his family sitting on the couch, watching him, every movement he made. Jon just felt so...tired. Tired of always striving. Always walking on eggshells.

  Lizzy was just another person in the long line of people who wanted something from him.

  He opened the sliding door to his apartment. Away from the privacy and the wind, and into the warmth of his living room. Prepared to usher Lizzy out.

  But she gripped his bare arm, stopping him. A firm, insistent grip on his biceps from a small, cool hand.

  He hadn’t expected her touch. It felt...good.

  “One afternoon,” she said in a faint voice. “Saturday. I can go out next Saturday.” Her hand gripping his arm was shaking.

  “I want three Saturdays,” he said. “Three weekends, until Brandon goes back to his mother. Then I’m cutting you loose.”

  “Three is too many!”

  “Three or nothing,” he insisted.

  “You...might not like it.”

  “Oh, I will, sweet cheeks. Bet on it.”

  She gasped. Her eyes widened, darting from his family on the couch, to him. But her hand was still latched onto his arm. She licked her lips. “Brandon goes with us.”

  “Nope,” he was about to reply, but then he realized he actually did need Brandon, at least for the first outing. He knew so little about this woman. “Fine, he can come with us the first Saturday.”

  “The first two Saturdays,” she said.

  That would give Jon one last Saturday without the eight-year-old in tow. “Done,” he said.

  “Oh, my....” She put her hand to her shiny brown hair. She looked good with her hair done up and then windblown like that. And mascara stroked on her long lashes. It gave him some hope that she thought enough of him to try to impress him. “You don’t know anything about me, Jon. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  Maybe not. But he ushered her inside. And as if his family were patients, she politely said goodbye to them.

  When at last the door was shut behind her, and all eyes were on him, even his dad’s, over the laptop screen, Jon spoke. “What? She’s seeing someone. Another doctor, not me.”

  “You don’t stand a chance,” his father said.

  “Why?” Frank said to his father. “Jon’s a pro ball player.”

  Sure. And Lizzy was the one person in Boston who wasn’t impressed by that.

  “I don’t know,” his father said. “Didn’t you hear them on the baseball shows? The way things are going, Jon might not have his job much longer. It’s worse than I thought.”

  “Don’t worry,” Frank said to Jon. “Bobby and I will kill for you if we have to.” He nudged Bobby. “Isn’t that so, brother?”

  “It won’t come to that,” Jon said. Because over his dead body would he lose his job—he was doing everything in his power to keep it.

  This thing with Lizzy? It wouldn’t get in his way.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ELIZABETH HAD VOWED to stay away, but two days later on a rainy Monday afternoon she picked Brandon up from school and ferried him to the hospital for his video shoot. And like a moth to a flame, she found herself staring again at Jon.

  She wasn’t the only female doing so. Three other hospital employees—a receptionist, a nurse and a volunteer—gawked from the doorway to the Sunshine Club conference room.

  At least Elizabeth had an excuse for hanging around—it was her nephew that Susan Vanderbilt helped onto one of two interviewer’s stools. Jon stood beside the other.

  “Did you know that Jon Farell is going to be in the bachelor auction for the Sunshine Club fund-raiser?” the receptionist whispered to the volunteer. “I saw the paperwork.”

  “If I had the money, I would bid on him in a heartbeat,” the nurse murmured back.

  The fact that other women would pledge money—presumably big money—to go on a date with Jon Farell, while Elizabeth had to be dragged kicking and screaming, was not lost on her.

  She clutched at the lapel of her doctor jacket. What would she and Jon even talk about this weekend? They were from such different worlds, how could either of them spend a day with the other without staring at each other in perplexed silence?

  Brandon padded over to her and retrieved the water bottle Elizabeth held for him. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, Auntie,” Brandon said, unscrewing the cap and taking a gulp. “I’m good.”

  “I’m so proud of you for helping the Sunshine Club, and for showing me what a good thing this is for you to do. Will you be okay here without me?”

  “I’m not alone.” Brandon wiped his mouth and thrust the bottle back at her. “I get to sit with Jon.” He smiled and trotted back to his idol.

  Susan settled Brandon’s stool closer to Jon’s, while a camera assistant clipped a small microphone to the neck of Brandon’s T-shirt. Elizabeth had no doubt that her budding media-savant nephew would handle Susan’s instructions like a pro.

  Certainly, he was safe and happy and in his element. Elizabeth could leave without worry. She glanced at her watch. Her department meeting was in five minutes, and Susan had already promised to walk Brandon back to her once they were finished.

  She nibbled her lip and took one last look at Jon. He was sitting cross-armed on the stool, not saying much. On the surface, he appeared his normal, easygoing, happy-baseball-player self. But Elizabeth had long practice at observing people, figuring out what was happening on the inside. She knew what a tightened jaw meant. Jon didn’t like Susan directing the stylist to comb his hair. His lips pressed together in distaste at the offered makeup application.

  Susan bent over Jon, her cleavage stuck in his face, and Elizabeth felt a stabbing inside her. That was jealousy. The nurse next to Elizabeth just sighed in appreciation.

  Wonderful. First Elizabeth couldn’t tear herself away from Jon, now she was envious of another woman’s attention. She was treading on dangerous ground. She just had to remember that it was only a silly fantasy fueled by her attraction to Jon’s pheromones.

  How was she going to protect herself come Saturday?

  Meanwhile, Susan touched Jon’s arm and murmured something into his ear. Jon flashed a halfhearted smile. Elizabeth squirmed.

  Didn’t everyone see Jon was only going through the motions?

  She wasn’t the only observer to the video shoot. Besides the three women hovering in the doorway, there was a cameraman and a makeup and hair stylist. Another young man held what appeared to be a script. Susan orchestrated the activity, and Brandon was along for the ride.

  Jon, of course, was the heart and center of everyone’s attention.

  “Jon, I like how you dressed today,” Susan said, gazing through the camera lens at him. The women beside Elizabeth tittered because, yes, Jon did look like he’d stepped out of a male modeling shoot, wearing a deep blue collared shirt and a navy suit jacket with tan chinos.

  The colors would pop on camera, while the suit showed his seriousness for the subject matter. And selfishly, to Elizabeth—though maybe not to everybody else—the blue in his shirt collar brought out a depth and richness to his eyes she hadn’t noticed before.

  It warmed her. It settled in the core of her and radiated outward. She felt deliciously shaky between her legs.

  “Unfortunately,” Susan said, strolling back to stand
too close to Jon again. “We need you to wear your Captains uniform for this segment. Did you bring it with you?”

  Jon frowned and sat back with his arms crossed. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Because of course he was Captains property. Brandon gave Jon a funny look. Even her nephew wore his Captains cap.

  A shadow crossed Jon’s face, but just as quickly, it was gone. He stood and, for first time since Elizabeth had been watching from the corner, he noticed her.

  His eyes seemed to spark. One side of his mouth lifted, as if smiling to her in secret. She smiled back, her hand pressed to her lips.

  He winked at her and snagged a duffel bag before heading into the restroom, closing the door behind him. When he came out again, he wore his Captains shirt, number 13, over his chinos. Susan made a fuss of adjusting his posture on the stool, of taking her time leaning over and pinning the microphone to his collar.

  Through it all, Jon’s gaze darted discreetly to Elizabeth, while Elizabeth stood, her hand clasped on her scrubs over her heart, allowing her gaze to tangle with his.

  She was still breathing heavily when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She knew whose tap that was and stiffened, as if caught doing something wrong. Across the room, Jon bent, reaching for his water bottle, oblivious to her dilemma.

  Elizabeth stepped into the corridor outside. “Yes, Albert?” she asked as calmly as she could.

  The cardiac surgeon wore his street clothes—chino slacks and a smart sweater. His hair combed but damp, fresh from the gym shower, she assumed, he appeared ready to drive home for the day. “I volunteered to find you. Dr. Fine is ready for your meeting.”

  Elizabeth thought of her beeper and her phone, both turned off and stowed downstairs in her locker. “Tell him I’m on my way.”

  “Is...your nephew’s schedule settled?” Albert asked.

  “Yes. Thank you.” She smiled tightly and headed for the elevator to avoid any more questions. If this wasn’t a wake-up call, she didn’t know what was. She needed to get her act together and stop fantasizing over what wasn’t good for her.

  Unfortunately, the only person who could assist her in getting her head clear for the weekend was an eight-year-old. And he was unduly biased.

  * * *

  JON FELT HIS temporary good mood evaporate. He had glanced down for just a moment. When he’d glanced back, he’d caught Lizzy—red cheeked and lips glistening from the looks they’d been flashing at one another—leaving the room behind the doctor he’d seen her with last week.

  Hell. The videographer adjusted the tripod while Jon ground his teeth, wondering what to do about it.

  “We’re putting together this video,” Susan explained to Brandon, “so that financial donors will see the good work we do for children with cancer.” She took turns flashing her smile between Jon and Brandon as if they were both at her beck and call. “So. Are we ready to begin?”

  Brandon nodded enthusiastically. Jon fought the urge to get up and follow Lizzy. But it wasn’t his place. The only things keeping him from snapping at Susan to knock it off were one, Brandon sitting beside him, and two, the fact that the whole dog-and-pony show was for a really good cause. Doubly so, because the resulting video could help Jon get his contract signed for next season.

  Lizzy was his problem. He was consumed with her. He’d been fantasizing about wanting to bring her out from her customary position, always on the sidelines, observing life instead of participating.

  What could he do to get her to take a big bite out of life with him? Open her up to new experiences, beyond Wellness Hospital and the doctors inside?

  Saturday was his first opportunity. He needed to think of someplace worthy to take her. He was lucky she was interested in him, too. Every time he’d glanced at her, her focus had been on him. Not Brandon. Him.

  He wanted it to be for the person he was inside. For the man he was beneath the Captains uniform.

  A photographer’s studio light suddenly turned on, flooding the space with heat.

  “Brandon,” Susan said from behind the camera, “why don’t we start with you. As a cancer survivor, can you tell us about the treatment you received at Wellness Hospital?”

  Jon focused on the flesh-and-blood kid sitting so close to him that their knees were touching.

  “I don’t remember too much,” Brandon said, tilting his head up to the camera. “I was a little kid, you know.”

  Susan bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. She addressed Jon. “When we’re finished with Brandon, we’ll ask you some questions on camera as well, such as how you got interested in helping children, and what it means to you as a Captains player to participate in the Sunshine Club.”

  Jon shifted uncomfortably. This was where it got dicey. He’d always operated on the belief that what he felt—about these kids, about their illness—was nobody’s business but his own.

  But he nodded at Susan, because he’d had media training, too. He’d spent years on a big-market team, and he could talk to the press with a smile on his face—without saying anything of note—as long as the day was long. “Sure,” he said.

  His glance flicked to Brandon. Besides, the kids and their families were the heroes here, not him. If Jon could bring a smile to someone having a lousy day—and in a sickbed, there were many lousy days—then he’d done his job.

  “Jon, if you could look over here—”

  Crash. “Damn it!” said a high-pitched female voice.

  The assistant had knocked over the camera tripod. The noise sounded suspiciously like a lens shattering.

  Susan hovered over a group of people picking at the camera, assessing it. Her expression was doubtful. “Why don’t you take your break while we find another camera?” she said to Jon. “We’ll give it a half hour, okay?”

  “Sounds good.” She didn’t have to ask him twice. Jon grabbed his suit jacket from the chair he’d left it on and tossed it on over his Captains shirt. “You want to get a Coke?” he asked Brandon.

  “Yes!” Brandon jumped off the stool and curled his hand inside Jon’s pitching hand.

  Jon left it there, small and warm. He led Brandon out of the conference room and to the elevator bank.

  While they waited, Brandon held up a baseball, arranging his fingers over the seams in the way Jon had shown him. “See, it’s a four-seam fastball,” Brandon said.

  “You’ve been practicing your grip. Good job.”

  “It’s hard for me because my fingers aren’t as big as yours.”

  “You’ll grow,” Jon reassured him. “Plus, if you practice, your fingers will get looser, more flexible, and it will start to feel easier.”

  Brandon looked up hopefully at him. “Will you catch with me?”

  “No, sorry, bud, I really can’t. But I can show you some throwing mechanics, and you can practice them with your team coach.”

  “I’m not on the team, yet,” Brandon said glumly.

  “Do you have neighborhood buddies to play with you?”

  “Not while I’m at Auntie’s.” Brandon sighed. “I can’t wait to go home.”

  Not a comment for Jon to pursue. It also wouldn’t be smart to ask the kid how his mom was doing. “Well,” Jon said, “I could get you a pitch-back. That way you can practice with yourself. Get the ball into the strike zone as often as you can.”

  “Then will you teach me the curveball grip?” Brandon begged.

  “What’s the rush? You have years for that. Even when I entered the big leagues, I only had three pitches that I had solid control over.”

  “If I had a really great fastball,” Brandon mused, “then nobody would be able to hit off me.”

  “Yep,” Jon agreed. “You’ve got that right.”

  Maybe this would be something to help occupy the kid’s considerable energy, for the next few weeks that Lizzy had him, at least. “Is there a yard outside your aunt’s building, a space where we can set up a pitch-back for you?”

  Brandon thought a minute. “We could
set one up on the curb beside the parking lot.”

  A true city kid, like himself. “On Saturday, we’ll check with your aunt to make sure the area is safe, and that there are no windows that can be broken by a flying baseball.”

  Something to discuss with her on Saturday. The other consideration was to suggest bringing Brandon to a training center, but that might tick Lizzy off. She was already committed to carting the kid to and from Susan’s sessions with the videographer, and that was probably enough for now.

  The elevator arrived. Jon followed Brandon into the—thankfully—empty car.

  “Push the button for the roof café,” Brandon said. “It’s on the top floor.”

  When they got to the roof café, Jon saw a glassed-in view that overlooked Boston.

  In the distance was the new Rose Kennedy Greenway, built over land where years ago, the Big Dig had taken place. Which brought Jon to his dilemma: where in Boston to take Lizzy on Saturday? What did she like? What did they both like that would show the brown-eyed brunette he wasn’t just a big-league curiosity that people gawked at and sucked up to?

  “Did your aunt say anything about next weekend?” he asked Brandon, who was already at the order counter, talking to an ice-cream scooper dressed in a white apron.

  “She said we’re going on a family fun day with you,” Brandon said, pulling napkins from an automated machine.

  “A...what?”

  “You, me and her. Together. Like to the movies or something.”

  The last place Jon wanted to take Lizzy was someplace where she’d have another excuse not to talk to anybody.

  “Anything for you, sir?” the café attendant asked.

  “A can of Coke, please.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, which still hurt his sore finger a bit. The attendant handed Brandon the dish of ice cream he’d ordered because Jon hadn’t been paying attention. Bubble-gum flavor. Good grief.

  “So your aunt told you about Saturday?” Jon sat down at a table and faced the kid with his oversize, dripping bowl. Not smart, considering they were going to be filming again in twenty minutes. “Why are you calling it family fun day?”