When the Earth Moves. Roxanne St. Claire

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СКАЧАТЬ a quick glance over his shoulder. “Fake it for me, okay? I got a reputation from one end of the Bronx to the other.”

      “I bet you do.”

      His gaze locked on hers, way too warm and friendly for the situation they were in. “A good reputation,” he assured her. “As a gentleman who would buy a lady anything she wants at the ballpark.”

      What she wanted was the paper in his pocket. Signed. “I’ll have whatever you have.”

      Another smack of the ball against the bat stole his attention and they were up again. This time the hit was a success, landing the player on second base. Maybe she should at least try to follow the game.

      She sat back down, but Cameron remained standing and whistled at a vendor. Peanuts flew at them, followed by the arrival of two foaming plastic cups. More jokes and pronouncements were tossed around among the people who all seemed to know one another, and before Jo really knew what was happening, it was the fourth inning and she’d had half a beer and three-quarters of a bag of peanuts. And she finally understood what a balk was.

      But she didn’t feel any closer to success.

      Cameron talked about his team with a mesmerizing passion, his movements spare, his expressions intense. His whole body somehow managed to stay practically pressed to her side, the metal arm of the seat the only thing preventing her from feeling the steel of his muscles, the warmth of his substantial frame.

      She couldn’t help sneaking glances at him while he watched the game. Nor could she help noticing that he did the same. Only there was nothing sneaky about his gazes. He looked at her—a lot, and with great interest— and every time he did, an unwanted response sparked through her whole body.

      She tried to keep the conversation light and act as if she didn’t notice the undercurrent of tension and attraction between them. For whatever reason, he’d brought her with him. And she would play his game until she got what she wanted.

      “How did you become such a Yankee fan?” she asked. “Don’t they have a baseball team in Pittsburgh?”

      He froze middrink of beer, obviously surprised by the question. They hadn’t discussed where he’d grown up.

      “NewYork is my home now,” he said simply, then took his sip. “I went to college and law school at Fordham about ten minutes from here, and I got my MBA at Columbia. I live, breathe, eat and root for NewYork City.”

      “I know,” she said quietly, earning another surprised glance. But she didn’t know why he’d virtually abandoned the home of his youth.

      “I’m at a distinct disadvantage,” he softly announced, so close to her ear that her stomach dipped at the vibrations his voice caused. “You seem to know a lot more about me than I know about you.”

      He had a right to some information about her, she reminded herself. No harm in that. “I live and work in Sierra Springs. I’m thirty years old, own my own home and run a body shop in town.” How personal did he want to get?

      “Do you have a boyfriend?”

      Very personal. “No.”

      “Ever been married?”

      She supposed it was a legitimate question, considering the pending adoption. “Briefly.”

      “What happened?”

      “He wanted to move to L.A.”

      “And you couldn’t work that little detail out?” He looked dubious, and she swallowed before answering with the truth.

      “He wanted to move to L.A. with another woman.”

      “Oh.”

      Yeah, oh. She shrugged. “Stuff happens.”

      “Sure does. How long were you married?”

      A collective cheer from the crowd threatened to drown out her response, but he actually stayed seated and waited to hear her answer.

      “I was married for about a year,” she told him. “I was only twenty-two.” She really hadn’t expected to have to give him too much personal information, figuring he’d want to know about his sister and mother. And maybe Callie.

      She was willing to give Cameron McGrath everything he wanted, any pictures, information—including the letters from his mother to his father—if he would sign the paper. She had documentation right there in her bag. That, and a toothbrush, comb and a change of underwear, was all she’d packed for her one-day round-trip to New York. She had no intention of staying one minute longer than she needed to. The next meeting with Child Services was the following week, and she planned to be prepared.

      “No children?” he asked, still on the ancient history of her marriage.

      “Just the one I plan on adopting.”

      Oh Lord, what if her worst nightmare came true? What if he suddenly decided he should raise Callie? The thought seemed preposterous from a man who admitted he didn’t want the responsibility of a fish, but more preposterous things had happened in the past few months. The law would be on his side, even though his lifestyle didn’t exactly welcome a child. Unless he planned to bring a stroller into Yankee Stadium. How could she subtly remind him of that?

      “You’ve never been married,” she stated simply.

      “Never have, never will.”

      Relief made her fingers tingle. “You seem sure of that.”

      A half smile tipped his lips. “Some things are a safe bet, Jo.”

      “And marriage isn’t one of them?”

      “That’s not what I’m saying.” He took another sip of his beer, then set the cup back on the ground. “What’s a safe bet is that I’ll never get married.”

      Welcome news, in this case. But how could he be so sure? “Why is that?”

      He looked at her the same way he had when she didn’t know who played shortstop. “I think you know enough about my personal history to answer that yourself.”

      She frowned. What was she missing here? “Do you mean because of your parents?”

      “Not my parents,” he corrected quickly. “My mother. She sort of soured me on lifelong relationships.”

      His mother? She’d been forced to leave and had tried for years to rekindle a relationship with her husband and sons. They’d shunned her. Was it possible…he didn’t know that?

      The crowd roared again, but he surprised her by pulling her a little closer and pointing toward the field. “Now just look at that, sweetheart,” he said with an easy chuckle, his gaze focused on the field. “Tell me there’s anything dull about that brilliant pickoff.”

      What was brilliant was his change-of-subject technique. But that was fine. She didn’t want to delve into his past if he didn’t. The less said about it, the better. However, she didn’t want him to go too far off topic.

      “I need to get СКАЧАТЬ