Out of His League. Cathryn Parry

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СКАЧАТЬ She doesn’t want to come up here and watch him, either, even if he’s waiting quietly in my bedroom, because I don’t have an HD television.”

      “Seriously?”

      “I know.” She rolled her eyes. “Who needs high-definition television to watch baseball?”

      “Maybe she has a crush on the pitcher.”

      A noise burst out of Lizzy, something between a giggle and a snort. She clamped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late.

      Aha. So his studious, buttoned-up anesthesiologist had a fun streak in her after all. It was just buried, layers and layers deep.

      “Give me your shopping list,” he said gently. “I’ll take care of it. It’s not a big deal.”

      “It is to me. I don’t want you buying things for us. And also...” Lizzy gestured to his bandaged hand. “Did you not read your postoperative instructions? You aren’t supposed to be driving, not with the medication you’re on. I won’t be responsible for that.”

      “I’m not on medication,” he said quietly. “Just acetaminophen.”

      Her mouth dropped open. “Then you’re in pain.”

      Maybe, a little bit.

      He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to chance messing with my health by taking heavy drugs like that. My body is how I make my living.”

      She rolled her eyes again.

      He grinned at her. “Lizzy?” he said, at the same time that Brandon whined plaintively through the door, “Auntie?”

      Jon opened the door. Brandon was dressed in Superman pajamas. “Excellent job,” Jon said to him. “I’d like to reward you for that.”

      Brandon beamed at him. Before Lizzy could say another word, Jon pulled his wallet from his back pocket and tossed it on the bed. He pulled out his phone, too. “My team’s owner sits on your hospital board. Go ahead and call her assistant, she’ll vouch for me. Then go out and shop for as long as you need to—I’ll wait here with Brandon.”

      “Yesss!” Brandon pumped his fist and did some kind of rap dance around the bedroom.

      Lizzy glowered at Jon. Yeah, he’d pay for making the kid part of their negotiations.

      “How do I know you’re not a pedophile?” she asked in a low voice. “Perfectly respectable-looking football coaches have been found to be abusive to children. If there is one thing we’ve learned, it’s that we can’t trust somebody else vouching for our kids’ caretakers just because they have a prestigious job.”

      Uh, she had a point. A twisted point, but then again, these could be twisted times.

      He turned on his phone and called up the video interface. “In that case, we’ll use my phone like a nannycam. You can go about your shopping and still see everything Brandon and I are doing.”

      “You’re crazy. I am not going to let you stay in my home, Mr. Farell. I’m a private person.”

      “And I’m a public guy. I have a lot to lose, too, if you were ever to come out with allegations against me.”

      That made her pause. “Why?” she asked finally. “Why do you care so much about helping us?”

      Damned if he knew. His finger was throbbing again, he was tired, and well... “I’m hungry.”

      He walked over to Brandon, who said, “I’m hungry, too.”

      “Then this is what we’ll do, kid. While your aunt is out shopping, we’ll have quiet time together, under her supervision. So get one of your books and show me how well you read.”

      “I don’t have any books,” Brandon said.

      “You have books at home,” Lizzy corrected him.

      “No,” Brandon said. “I don’t.”

      He and Lizzy both seemed to still at the same time.

      Then she seemed to snap. Scowling, she stomped toward her closet. “Fine.” She reached for a plastic box on the top shelf. “I have books.” Lifting off the lid, she rummaged inside before handing Brandon a hardcover kid’s book.

      A very old, very worn-out copy of Curious George Goes to the Hospital.

      A lump formed in his throat.

      He’d read that story many times to his brothers, many nights when they were left alone that one, hard year.

      He looked at Lizzy, locked gazes with her.

      It was strange, but he could swear she was thinking the same thing.

      “This is what we’ll do,” she said, shaking her head, suddenly straight and crisp again, no sign of apprehension in her root-beer-colored eyes. “Both of you will go down to Mrs. Ham’s apartment. While she watches baseball and ogles the real, live baseball-playing pitcher sitting in her living room, the two of you can read your book. And the minute I return, Jon can go home.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ELIZABETH PUSHED A grocery cart down the frozen-foods aisle, only halfheartedly paying attention to the waffles and pancakes in the gluten-free breakfast section. Most of her concentration was on the videophone in her hand.

      On the small screen, she saw Jon Farell sitting on the couch beside her nephew in Mrs. Ham’s apartment, the child calm, dressed in his pajamas and leaning against Jon’s shoulder. Brandon read the book aloud in a halting, unsure voice while Jon patiently encouraged him.

      Tears sprang to her eyes, unbidden. Jon didn’t know it, but he touched a lode of emotions buried deep inside her.

      She quickly wiped her eyes, glancing up to make sure that nobody saw her. It was obvious that this man was dangerous to her sanity. There was a reason she had been so harsh with Jon.

      But now everything had flipped around, and she did not want to like him. This public, professional baseball player was so easy with people, while she was so uncomfortable. She certainly did not want to feel these emotions she was feeling—the tenderness toward a man who seemed to have given her fatherless nephew a role model who treated him with respect. How had this man—this man she’d been so inexplicably attracted to—ended up being more good-hearted than she ever would have guessed?

      Any man she chose to speak with outside of the work environment—and for her, that was a rare occasion—had to be dispassionate and private.

      Jon Farell was the opposite of that kind of person. He was far too outgoing. He didn’t seem to have any boundaries—he was the take-charge type. Being drawn to him at all had to be a tragic mistake of her DNA.

      As soon as she got home, Elizabeth would shake off her tender emotions and make sure to bar the door to Jon. Brandon wouldn’t be happy, but he was going home to his mother tomorrow, after breakfast. Then Elizabeth would have her ordered world back to herself, and all would be well.

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