He paused and turned. The hand holding the ice pack dropped to his side. “I told you, I’m fine. Once the Tylenol kicks in, I’ll be ready to pitch a no-hitter.”
Rachel couldn’t keep her eyes off the large hematoma on the side of his head. This was her fault. She should have watched Mickie more closely, made sure the child didn’t throw a ball to someone who wasn’t looking.
“It’s not your fault,” he said softly as if he could read her mind. “Or anyone’s fault. That’s why they call ‘em accidents.”
He seemed quite sincere. Gracious as well as handsome. It was a potent combination. Rachel could see why women liked him.
“Seriously,” he said. “I’m more than capable of driving myself.”
The easy thing would be for her to agree. After all, he’d probably be okay. But then again, he’d taken a hard hit. He’d been confused and unsteady. No, she couldn’t in good conscience let him get behind the wheel. Not yet, anyway.
“How about you humor me and ride with us over to the restaurant,” she said. “Depending on how you’re doing after we eat, you can either drive yourself home or I can drop you off.”
Derek’s quicksilver grin flashed. “You are bound and determined to get me in your car.”
Although her heart skipped a beat, Rachel ignored the charm this guy seemed to have in abundance.
“I’m not going to let this drop.” She resisted an unexpected urge to banter. “I don’t want anything to happen to you on my watch.”
His lips twitched. “Your watch?”
“Say yes,” Mickie said, finally speaking up. “I want to eat.”
Derek thought for a moment, then nodded, shifting his gaze to Rachel. “Ms. Milligan, you’ve got yourself a date.”
A date? All she’d done was offer to drive him for pizza. Because they were hungry. Not because she wanted to get to know him better like you would if you were … dating … someone.
Rachel opened her mouth, then shut it. There was no point in getting hung up on semantics. They both knew it wasn’t a date. After all, if the guy once voted “The Sexiest Player in the Major Leagues” was going to jump back into the dating game after his engagement scandal, it wouldn’t be with her.
Chapter Two
Even though it was only five o’clock, Perfect Pizza was surprisingly busy. But Derek quickly located an empty table in the center of the small dining area.
He pulled out chairs for Mickie and Rachel, then took a seat opposite the two. After he was sure they were settled in, he snagged menus from the holder on the table and handed them each one. “What kind of pizza do you like?”
Mickie didn’t even look at the menu in her hand. “Whatever you want is okay with me.”
He’d noticed the child had done that a lot on the drive from the gym, refusing to offer an opinion, waiting to answer as if wanting to make sure her response was right. She was an odd bundle of energy and insecurity.
Derek fought the impulse to tease and lost. He’d grown up with a younger sister and Mickie reminded him of Sarah.
“How about anchovies, cream cheese and pineapple?” It was all Derek could do to keep a straight face at the look of horror that stole over the young girl’s face.
“I think we’ll pass on that combination.” A tiny smile lifted the corners of Rachel’s lips. She glanced at the menu and scooted closer to Mickie. “We can negotiate on the pineapple and cream cheese, but anchovies are definitely out. Right, Mickie?”
The child cast a look at Derek. What she saw must have reassured her because she nodded decisively and swiped the air with one hand. “Anchovies aaaaare out.”
She sounded so much like an umpire that Derek had to laugh. After some friendly banter, they decided on a hamburger pizza with extra cheese. Rachel wanted him to stay at the table and rest, but he insisted on going to the counter to order.
While waiting in line, he glanced back at the table. Mickie was chattering on about something and Rachel gave the child her full attention. There was a look in the nurse’s eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. Sadness, yes. But also a longing that took his breath away.
This was a woman who obviously loved children. While her husband’s death must have temporarily put an end to the dream of children of her own, he had no doubt kids were in her future. She was pretty and smart and personable. He was surprised she hadn’t already remarried and started a family. Of course, wearing a wedding ring probably kept the decent men away.
Derek wondered if she’d consider him a decent guy. He certainly did his best to treat every woman with respect. That wasn’t always the norm in today’s society. Lots of men out there had no scruples. Lots of women, too. An image of his former fiancée flashed before him. He clenched his jaw and focused on the menu board.
After ordering, Derek returned to the table with a pitcher of soda and three glasses filled with ice. “They’ll bring out the pizza when it’s ready.”
In less than fifteen minutes a large golden brown pie oozing cheese appeared. After wolfing down three big pieces, Mickie spotted an old pinball machine in an alcove just off the dining room. Her eyes lit up. She smiled, showing a mouthful of big teeth.
“Want to check it out?” Derek asked.
The girl’s smile faded. She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “I don’t know how to play.”
He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll show you.”
After several pointers on how to best keep the silver ball in play, Derek gave her a handful of quarters and returned to the table. “She’s a natural.”
They chatted for a minute or two about Mickie and pinball machines before the conversation petered out. Rachel put down her second slice of pizza and sought for a comment to fill the lengthening silence. It had been easy to make conversation while Mickie was at the table, but now …
“Did you hear we have a seventy-percent chance of snow tomorrow?” Rachel asked.
Derek groaned out loud. “Please, no more about the weather or the bump on my head. We’ve talked those topics to death.”
He was probably right. Perhaps she’d tried a little too hard to keep the conversation general. But when those brilliant blue eyes focused on her as if no one else in the world existed but the two of them, she felt as unsure as a fifteen-year-old on her first date.
Rachel placed her glass of soda on the wooden table with an unsteady hand. The man across from her had been to movie premieres. Partied with the beautiful people. And, according to the media, walked away from three engagements.
She glanced longingly at the door, wondering how she’d ever thought this was a good idea. Right now she could be at home in her PJs playing Scrabble with Mickie. Oh, Derek was nice. But she didn’t like how he made her feel, all jittery and unsettled inside. “I’m a little nervous.”
Derek lowered the glass he’d raised to his lips without drinking and Rachel wished she’d kept her mouth shut.
Disappointment filled his baby blues. “Which tabloids have you read?”
Rachel realized immediately that he’d misunderstood her comment. But the last thing she wanted was to discuss his troubles or her attraction to him. So instead, Rachel focused on the Derek Rossi she’d followed in the sports pages for almost a decade. “This will probably surprise you, but you and I go way back. I remember watching you pitch a no-hitter in the college world series. You were amazing. I followed your career after you were drafted by the Angels. Now it seems like every time I watch a sportscast, there you are with a microphone