“I was going to spring training in Florida and then 162 games around the country while you were committed to a job here. How fair would it have been to ask you to wait for me while I traveled around the country with a major league team? How many relationships do you know that could have survived that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that instead of giving me the heave-ho like I was some girl you picked up in a bar?” She was shaking with the memory of it even now. Or maybe she was shaking because he’d made her feel something incredible last night and then brought up all this garbage first thing this morning.

Why couldn’t they have parted civilly, with the taste of kisses on their lips, instead of angry words? But then, Brody always had a way of sweeping you into his world, firing you up and making you feel as passionate as he did. Good or bad, his emotions were contagious.

“I was too conflicted about the whole thing to have broken up with you if I hadn’t had your anger to seal the deal. I knew in my heart it was wrong to drag you out on the road with me when you were excited to buy a house and put down roots.” He ignored her spluttered protest and pressed a finger to her lips. “Besides, we’d hardly dated anyone but each other. I had this idea in my head that you should date other people so you wouldn’t resent me for monopolizing most of your romantic life.”

She wanted to argue about how unfair it had been to deceive her. About how wrong he’d been to make a big relationship decision without her, and to break her heart because he thought he knew what was best for her. But something—maybe the sincerity she saw in his eyes as the sunlight filtered through the blinds—made her think twice.

He’d been under a lot of pressure when he signed with the Aces. And his family had all been there with their hands out when they heard about his fat contract. As exciting as his career had been, it had shown him who his real friends were.

Too bad that—after finding out—he’d turned his back on her, too.

“So instead of resenting you for tying me down, you made me resent you for ditching me without so much as a face-to-face conversation.”

He shook his head. “I never suggested it was a well thought out plan. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a habit of occasionally putting my foot in my mouth.”

In the quiet moment that followed his response, she remembered the way he’d started the conversation. The bit about loving her so much he couldn’t have broken up with her in person. Why had he brought that up this morning when her emotions were so mixed up to start with?

Unwilling and possibly unable to see straight where he was concerned, Naomi couldn’t think about it right now. Not with the scent of him on her sheets and her skin.

“I’d better get dressed.” She scrambled out of bed before he could stop her, too confused to continue a conversation that shredded her insides. “I don’t want to keep the kids waiting. They’ve got a big game this week and really need the practice, so—”

She hightailed toward the bathroom, needing a retreat.

“I’m coming with you,” he called, his sexy, he-man voice easily penetrating the bathroom door. “I want to see you in action. Besides, I don’t know if I’ve got a job to show up for today anyhow.”

Flipping on the handle for the shower, Naomi made a valiant effort to drown out the noisy hubbub of her feelings. She told herself Brody only wanted to hang out with her today because he might have been released from his contract after the fight with the ump and the manager yesterday. He’d showed up here last night because he’d been upset and for all she knew, that was the only thing keeping him in New Hampshire when the rest of his life was in Boston.

Too bad no matter how much she scrubbed and rinsed, the voice in her head kept insisting there was a chance he had come back to his hometown for more than a respite from the media storm. After the amazing time they’d had together last night, a little part of her wanted to believe Brody had another reason for coming home: her.


NAOMI WAS A HELL OF A COACH.

Brody realized as much within the first fifteen minutes of her softball practice for eleven- and twelve-year-olds. He’d never had time to be in town during one of her practices before, something he realized now had been a sign of how scattered his attention had been during the months they’d dated.

He hadn’t been surprised by her adeptness since she’d always had a sharp eye for sports. Plus, she could motivate anyone. Witness the way she’d encouraged him to follow a dream—starting way back in high school—that would have been easy to give up on so many times. No wonder the kids on the soggy field listened when she spoke and worked their hardest to gain her approval.

He’d laid low while the parents had dropped off the kids, figuring he’d save the mob scene for later. The kids thought it was cool a baseball player had come to help them out with a practice—but not so cool that they didn’t return to flicking one another’s hats off or giggling about a sleepover they’d attended the week before.

Brody had talked Naomi into giving him a lift since the two-seater convertible he’d been tooling around in lately was on the conspicuous side. Mostly, he just wanted more time to be with her and convince her to give him a second chance. His approach this morning had resulted in a stalemate, making him think he’d screwed up too badly last year for her to reconsider where he was concerned.

“Heads up, Jess,” Naomi warned, shouting to the shortstop on one of her scrimmage teams after she’d split the group in two for game-style practice.

A tall girl was in the box, waiting for her pitch and the shortstop tensed, eye on the batter. Brody had been watching the in-fielder during the warm-up drills and the kid was good for her age—athletic, coordinated, quick thinking.

She was ready to make a play, knees bent, poised on the balls of her feet. From Naomi’s heads-up to the shortstop, Brody guessed that’s where the batter normally hit the ball. Another sign of good coaching—Naomi paid attention to the finer points of the game and kept her team on their toes.

When the batter cracked a fastball, she hit a line drive right at the shortstop’s head. It would have been a tough play for anyone at that level, requiring quick thinking and deft reflexes. In fact, Brody figured the fielder would be damn fortunate just not to get hit. Instead, Jess made a beautiful, textbook-style backhand stab at the ball.

And missed it.

“Damn it!” Jess kicked the ground with a vengeance, the display of temper effectively halting the other team’s celebration as the runner passed first and sped toward second.

Brody felt the fielder’s pain like he’d bet no one else on the diamond did. The few parents who’d stuck around to watch the practice appeared vaguely horrified that their eleven-year-olds were subject to the tantrum. The language that would have been mild on a professional field was surely off-limits for a grade-school team.

For some reason, seeing the shortstop’s face twisted up in a snarl of anger—at herself, not at the batter—gave Brody a better look in the mirror than watching professional athletes lose their cool. That was how he’d looked to fifty thousand fans at the Aces ballpark yesterday. This was how he’d appeared on the jumbotron and on TV screens in a few million homes.

Like a temperamental kid who couldn’t keep his cool.

Naomi blew the whistle and called the teams in for a water break as she hurried over to the infield grass. Jess had thrown her glove on second base, clearly still pissed she’d missed a ball and not terribly wise to the upset she’d caused all around. Brody followed her, not to nose his way into her business, but because he didn’t like the idea of her talking to any ticked off person alone, even one who was eleven years old.

“Hey, Jess.” She picked up the glove and handed it back to the player. “Tough break on the play, but let’s give credit where it’s due, okay? Tyra had an awesome hit. That kind of bat speed keeps us competitive, right?”

Jess said nothing. Brody was surprised at Naomi’s approach, knowing most coaches of kids that age would have been all over the discipline of some sort. Was Naomi letting her off too easy?

“Because if you can’t make that play, no other shortstops in this league are going to make it, either,” she continued, extending an ego stroke Brody didn’t think the girl necessarily deserved. Still, the kid picked up her hanging head.

“Yeah.” The scrappy blonde had frustrated tears in her eyes. “But if Tyra can hit that, someone else on another team will be able to get one past me, too.”

“So why don’t you work in the practice field with Brody? I need to put Carrie in while you cool off anyway.”

Sure enough, she’d yanked Jess from the scrimmage. But instead of being upset, the girl appeared grateful for the out and for the opportunity to work on her skills.

A true competitor.

“I’m right behind you,” Brody told the kid as the pony-tailed blonde jogged by him and her teammates returned to the field. He lowered his voice as Naomi walked toward the third-base dugout near him. “Remind you of anyone?”

He knew his worst traits well enough to see himself in the kid.

“Yes. You’re both the best players on your teams.” She blew the whistle to start the next inning, clearing the bases to give the other team batting practice.

Brody shook his head.

“Come on. You know I’m talking about the temper problem.” He didn’t know where he’d picked up that explosiveness since none of his family members behaved that way, but it had gotten him in enough hot water in his life to know it wasn’t attractive.

Hell, it could be his ticket to the unemployment line if his manager followed through on his promise to release him if he couldn’t rein it in.

“Passionate on the field. Passionate off.” She shrugged. “You’re not the only person to get fired up about your game. If you ask me, you’ve got that fire to thank for where you are today.”

“Are you kidding me?” He shook his head, half expecting her to make a crack about his temper. His teammates had started calling him Mercury the last time he’d gotten into it with an ump, as in his mercury rose faster than any other guy’s in the line-up.

“Absolutely not.” She pointed toward Jess. “She’s going to practice fielding line drives until sunset, just the same way you practiced like a fiend when a ball got past you at home plate. I’ll take Jess on my team any day.”

She turned back toward the practice, shouting encouragement to a redhead at the plate who bit her lip in concentration every time the pitcher wound up.

As he walked away from Naomi and toward his preteen doppelganger, Brody wasn’t really surprised at Naomi’s easy going attitude, her acute understanding of human nature. Those qualities were only a portion of many reasons he should have never let her go in the first place.

With a woman like that at his side, maybe he wouldn’t be spinning his wheels letting his temper railroad his career. Maybe he’d be letting the positive aspect of that—passion, she’d called it—fuel his ass forward in life. To be a better player.

Hell, maybe he could be a better person, too.

Picking up speed, he jogged toward where Jess waited, tossing herself fly balls and catching them on the run. Oh, yeah, Brody would help this girl with her game.

It was the least he could do since Jess had helped teach him a lesson he’d missed his whole adult life.

And considering that new understanding might be his ticket to feeling worthy of Naomi, the knowledge was pretty much priceless.


BRODY WAS MOBBED BY PARENTS after softball practice.

Naomi watched him try to make his way across the field to where she waited, sitting on the tailgate of her SUV. He signed autographs on auto club maps and fast food napkins—whatever the players’ parents had handy when they picked up their kids. He’d also signed all the players’ hats, leaving words of wisdom about the game on the insides of their brims.

Finally, he ambled over with his glove under his arm, his Aces ball cap jammed on his head backward.

“It’s not quite like the crowd at the All-Star Game.” She’d seen footage from the All-Star break enough times to know it was a media circus. Ticket prices were high, making the event less of a family affair and more geared toward the hardcore fans. “But they sure seemed pleased to have you here.”