Can't Help Falling in Love Read online

  When she finished her pilot story, Lexy laughed. “There’s one way to douse your attraction to someone. Find another man to scratch the itch.”

  “That’s blasphemous.”

  “Did you call Brock?”

  “No.”

  “Do it.”

  “I don’t have sex on the first date.”

  “You can work up to the big climax, pun intended. Take out your phone and call him. Now.”

  Evvie shook her head. “I’ll call from home.”

  “No you won’t.”

  “Fine. After you show me the cover flats of the Pickles trilogy. You brought them, right?”

  “Okay. I’ll show you, but we’re not having dinner until you call him.”

  Maybe seeing someone else was a good idea, Evvie thought after she oohed and ahhed over the covers.

  Yes, it was.

  She took out her phone.

  * * *

  The Raiders beat New York by one run, but Mike had a rotten night. He’d struck out and popped out and managed bases twice, but didn’t score on either. So he was pissed off at how badly he’d done. As he walked toward the locker room, he decided to go right back to the hotel room for a pity party when the assistant hitting coach caught up with him.

  “Want to grab dinner and talk?” A former second baseman from California, Bob Goodman was a short, wiry guy and had hit the homerun record for the league one year.

  “Aren’t we having food in the locker room?” A catered spread was always served after night games.

  “Heard it didn’t arrive. Coach Silver’s furious.” Bob studied Mike. “You look like you could use a pep talk.”

  He leaned against the dugout wall. “I played fucking shitty.”

  “You always do this, you know. You expect to star in every game.” He socked Mike’s arm. “You gotta roll with the proverbial punches.”

  Not Mike’s forté. But he went with Bob and had a relatively pleasant evening. By the time he got back to the hotel room, he was in a decent mood. He’d do better tomorrow. He fell asleep, promising to redeem himself...

  “Get over here, you bastard.”

  Eight-year-old Mikey had hidden under the broken-down bed he shared with Sara. Shivering from head to toe, he tried not to move.

  “If I have to come and get you, you’ll be sorry.”

  Mikey was already sorry. He didn’t know for what, though. He never did.

  The beating was brutal. He screamed his head off the whole time. But it was his father’s words that cut deepest...you’ll never amount to anything...you’re a piece of shit...don’t know why we even had fucking kids...

  Mike awoke in a cold sweat, gripping the sheets. He breathed deeply as he’d learned to do after these nightmares. When his heartbeat slowed, he lay back down, stared up at the ceiling and considered why he’d had one of them tonight. They’d been less frequent lately.

  Probably because he’d sucked at his job, just like his father predicted.

  No wonder Evvie Gentileschi had such a low opinion of him.

  * * *

  Queen Renata Marcello Gentileschi walked into her husband’s wood-paneled, high-ceilinged office and found him on the phone in front of the huge window which faced the palace grounds. He waved her in and continued to talk. Listless, Renata sauntered over to the photos which graced one whole wall. She smiled at a picture of the girls, dressed in their finery at Prince Razim’s baptism. The ritual had been a significant event in the kingdom, as Callandra’s son would someday wear the crown.

  Not much later, Alessio came up behind her and circled her waist with his arms. He was a fit fifty-five-year-old, and his body could still make hers yearn for him. “La mia adorabile moglie,” he whispered in her ear. “What has you out of sorts today?”

  She didn’t dissemble, but pointed to the photo. “One of them.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t know. But one of our girls has set off my mother’s radar. Gabriella’s the likely choice because of what happened to her last year, but it’s not her.”

  “Call them all.”

  “No, I talked to Alexandra last night. Ah, that might be it.”

  “Alexandra is having troubles? When I spoke with her a few days ago, she told me she was over the moon. I took that to mean she was happy.”

  “It’s something she said about having dinner with Evangelina.”

  Her husband had nestled his chin on her shoulder. “Evangelina? Nothing is ever wrong with that bambina.”

  “There is now, I think. I’ll call her.”

  “Do it from in here, on the speaker.”

  Renata hesitated.

  “Ah, this may be something she’d only talk to you about.”

  Turning in his arms, she cupped his face with her palm. “I believe so. Is that all right? I don’t want to leave you out.”

  “I’m responsible for my relationship with my daughters, love. Not you.”

  She arched her brows in mock surprise. “Who have you become, King Alessio?” They’d had hard times in the not too distant past.

  “The man I used to be, I hope.”

  “Hmm. Kiss me and I’ll let you know.”

  Later, on the patio, Renata took out her phone and clicked on Evangelina’s number.

  “Hello, Mamá.” Merely the sound of her daughter’s voice made Renata certain her intuition had been correct.

  “Hello, sweetheart. How are you?”

  A hesitation. “Overall, I’m good. But...oh, Mamá, there’s a totally unsuitable man in my life and I can’t seem to shake him.”

  “Literally, like in his presence, or mentally?”

  “Both.” She hesitated. “Is that why you called? You have one of those feelings about us?”

  “Yes, dear. Now tell me what’s happening.”

  “I will. You always help me.”

  “I know, ragazza dolce. I know.”

  Chapter 5

  The day after meeting Lexy for lunch, Evvie couldn’t seem to stop thinking about sex. Then her mother had called, and after Evvie told her about her situation, Renata had given her advice similar to her sister’s about dating other men. So on Evvie’s break, she indulged her wayward thoughts and sat outside in a small picnic area in the courtyard to recall her last sexual encounters.

  There had been the doctor from another hospital who she’d dated several times and ended up in bed with. He was skilled, but their chemistry was...unremarkable.

  Then she’d gone out with a friend of Abby’s. She liked Josh, found him extraordinarily attractive and had sex with him sooner than she should have. Or at least they tried to. When he couldn’t perform, he confessed he was gay.

  The last time was six months ago, with the psychologist brother of a colleague who Evvie had brought in to give a lecture on depression in kids. She’d seen him for a few months, then they’d made love and she’d enjoyed it. But things went south when his ex-wife came back into this life.

  She wondered what Mike would be like as a lover. Probably aggressive. Evvie had come to realize that people’s behavior in bed was similar to their behavior out of it. Was he ever tender? Humorous? There was more to a sexual relationship than the mechanics. Mike had shown both those qualities during his pediatric visit, but how would he be with her?

  “Evvie?” She turned to find Leah behind her. “One of the nurses in Peds came down to see you. She seemed concerned about something, which is why I’m interrupting your break. Could you come in now to see her?”

  “Of course.”

  On the way inside, Leah asked, “You had a dreamy expression on your face out there. You got a guy in your life?”

  “Nope. You?”

  “As a matter of fact I do. He’s a doctor from General Hospital and a sweet guy.”

  Evvie blurted out, “Is the sex good?”

  “Stellar. Man, I don’t know how I live without it during a dry spell.”

  “I hear you.”

  As she hurried upstairs and walked int
o Peds, Evvie thought about Leah’s statement. But those musings vanished when a little boy ran up to her and wrapped his arms around her legs. A nurse accompanied him. “Sorry for calling you off your break. But Timmy’s going home, and his mother wanted to talk to you.”

  When Evvie approached his mom, she found the woman’s eyes were filled with pain, and there were grooves around her mouth. She had that beleaguered demeanor of a mother of a child with cancer.

  “Hello, Evvie,” she said. “Sorry to bother you, but Timmy’s in remission now and leaving the hospital today. He can’t stop talking about baseball. And The Jag. With all the medical bills we’ve accumulated, I’m afraid we can’t afford summer camps, but the nurses say you follow baseball. Do you know of any camps for kids around here that are free? He’d have to take it easy, but I want him to do things before...”

  Evvie squeezed her arm. “I don’t know of any offhand. I’ll check it out, though. Give me your contact information and I’ll get back to you.”

  Because of an emergency when she’d gotten back to NICU, Evvie’s shift ended before she had time to research the camps. She drove home and, dismissing tasks around the house that needed her attention, she booted up her computer and typed into the search engine, free baseball clinics for boys in the Baltimore area.

  Several came up. She clicked into two and checked their locations against Timmy’s home address. Too far away. The third that appeared in the lineup was Baseball Champions Camp. She went onto the site and checked the address first. This one was a short drive from Timmy’s house. She read the description on the About Us section. They taught elementary skills, but the emphasis was on enjoying baseball. No instructor names were given. But at the very bottom, in not too big letters, she saw a Mike Jagielski as the sponsor. “Huh.”

  The camp started tomorrow. Since Evvie was off work, she decided to drive over to the field and check it out. Maybe even finagle a space for Timmy. She had a date with Brock at seven, but she’d have plenty of time to get ready.

  The next morning, she arrived at the field and Mike Jagielski was there! She never expected him to be at the camp this morning. He had a game tonight.

  This should be interesting.

  * * *

  “It’s The Jag!”

  “Coach said he might come.”

  “Awesome.”

  Mike heard the comments and smiled as he neared the dugout of a field he’d built in a low-income housing area. When he got to the kids, he took off his sunglasses and smiled down at the thirty little ballplayers. “Hey guys.” He nodded to the ten girls intermingled with the boys. “And ladies.”

  One little girl grinned. He was dressed like her—like all of them—in the same cap and light blue T-shirt, both reading Champion Baseball Camps. Thankfully, Dan Davis had talked Mike out of naming the camps after himself. Three years ago, he wasn’t exactly happy with that decision, but now he saw it would have been...conceited.

  She already thinks you’re conceited.

  But she wasn’t at the field, and he wasn’t going to think about her. Or why he’d barged into that afternoon game and sat with her. So what if he’d liked sharing a game with her a little too much? He hadn’t contacted her since then. And of course, she didn’t call him.

  The coach approached him. “Hey, Mike.”

  Andy Anson, forty and fit, had been a Major League player and, wanting to do something meaningful with his retirement, he accepted the job of summer coach for poor kids. The camp would run for a month, offering four different sessions. Its mission, like the eighteen other camps Mike had established: to teach the mechanics and fundamentals of baseball to future pitchers, outfielders, infielders, catchers, and to instruct them in hitting and base running. It was also crucial that they made the sport fun. “Andy, good to see you.”

  They shook hands.

  “Saw your last game on TV. You’re doin’ great again this year.” At least Mike improved in the last series against Milwaukie.

  “Not as great as you were.” Though modesty came hard to Mike, this guy’s record was worthy of his respect. “So, where do I start? I have until one.”

  “Hitting, of course.” Andy faced the kids. “All members of group one, go with The Jag.” Some grumbles. “Hey, I promised you’d all get to work with him, right?”

  Nods.

  “Then let’s get started.” He clapped his hands to get them moving.

  Mike jogged ahead of his small entourage out to the designated batting area. It was a hot end-of-June day and the sun was bright already at eight; the grass smelled newly mowed. Mike took pleasure in those little things. “Sit for now.”

  They obeyed with wide eyes and a little bit of fear. He dropped down cross-legged so he was more in their line of vision. “It’s me, Mike. Rule number one of our camp is you gotta have fun.”

  He noticed that other than the shirts and caps he provided, most of the kids’ shorts were ragged and their sneakers old and worn. The image propelled him back to his childhood when he played pickup games on an empty lot filled with weeds...

  Hey, get a load of those sneakers. If they are sneakers.

  Yeah, they’re so dirty you can’t even tell.

  The other kids had been poor, but not as poor as Mike, which set him up as a target of bullying. Remembering that time, he softened his voice. “Now, I know Coach Anson told you this, but I’m repeating him. Not all of you are at the same skill level. No making fun of others.” A few girls smirked. “I mean it. You’ll lose your camp privileges.”

  The smirks disappeared.

  Mike leapt to his feet (in his four-hundred-dollar sneakers) and picked up a bat. “Batting stance is different for everybody. But I’ll demonstrate the most common one used while you’re learning the game.” He spread his legs. “Your feet should be a little more than shoulder distance apart, with equal weight on each one.” He moved his hands to the bottom of the bat. “Take a firm grip. I put my arms about shoulder height.” He demonstrated a few swings.

  Then Mike studied the kids at bat and made notes on each one. Some fumbled badly. Some hit okay. And some were good. Nobody made fun of each other. When they finished, he gestured with the clipboard. “Now let’s see where we can improve.” He held their gazes. “And remember, everybody can improve.”

  “Even you?” a boy asked.

  “Yeah, buddy. Even me.”

  * * *

  Evvie couldn’t believe her eyes. He was teaching the kids. Usually, big-name players made a few publicity appearances, then turned the everyday instruction over to someone else. In other words, they allowed these camps to use their famous names only to attract attention and the star got all the kudos. Mesmerized, she watched as he smiled and coddled and had fun with each group of kids. He was a toucher. She’d noticed that at the Peds wing. When the sessions ended, he sat cross-legged on the ground again, talked to all of them, then sent them on to a man waiting by the dugout.

  As he walked off the field, Evvie couldn’t help but appreciate how well the camp shirt outlined his pecs, how the gray shorts revealed muscles in his thighs that were strong and powerful. He need both had to play ball. He must have seen her because he stopped short. She crossed to him.

  “Are these your camps?” she asked without even a greeting.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Baseball Champions Camps. Are they yours?”

  He sighed. “Yeah, they’re mine.”

  “How wonderful of you to work with the kids, Mike. And watching you out there just now...it’s the side I saw of you at the hospital that day, triple-fold.”

  “I told you I did good things.”

  “And I didn’t listen. I apologize. I admire what you’re doing here.” She thought a minute. “Are these camps in all the cities where you play?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you visit them before the games?”

  “When I can. Unannounced. We don’t want fans to show up.”

  “Is that why you don’t plaster
your name on the website, the shirts, everything?”

  He stepped back and picked up a duffle bag he’d left in the grass. “I guess so.”

  “Do you fund them?”

  “I give some. But we have a foundation. We get donations. Wanna contribute?”

  “Of course I do. I’ll send a check.”

  He shook his head. “Why on earth were you at the website?”

  She explained about Timmy.

  “I remember him. The boy who cried. Only kids who can’t afford paid camps can come.”

  “He can’t. That’s why his mother asked me for help.”

  “Then he can come. He missed a day, but it runs for five. Can she get him here? If not, Dan Davis, my manager, will arrange transportation.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll check with her.”

  “Text me. And I’ll talk to the camp instructor before I leave about Timmy. He’ll need special accommodations. See you around.” He started away.

  She grasped his arm. “Wait. Would you like to get coffee? Or lunch?”

  He turned and briefly stared at her hand on his arm. “You want to spend more time with me? That’s a switch.”

  “We had fun at the game.”

  “Sorry, I can’t. I’m heading to the airport right from here for a new series tomorrow. Our plane leaves at three.”

  Disappointment shot through her. “Do you drive to the airport?”

  “Not today. I’m gonna call a car.”

  “Let me take you.”

  After a long hesitation, he said, “All right. Thanks.”

  * * *

  “A Prius.” He smiled at her over the hood of the vehicle. She looked cute as hell with her hair up, wearing a peach dress with skinny straps and absolutely no makeup. “It suits you.”

  “I’m afraid there won’t be much leg room.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  He climbed in and put the seat back as far as it would go. “There, that’s not too bad.” The scent of her lotion, shampoo maybe, filled the car. It...stirred him.