Hot Target

Suddenly, Malone was out of the locker room and the press swarmed him. Katie hesitated and shoved her phone back into her purse. The questions were coming hard and fast. “What did you think about tonight’s game?”

“When will we see you pitch?”

“How’s it feel to be mentored by Luke Winter?”

“Mentoring me?” Malone asked. “I’m mentoring him.”

Laughter erupted, the reporters assuming Malone was joking. He wasn’t.

The doors to the locker room opened.

“Luke! Luke!” The reporters were going nuts, and they all turned toward him to pepper him with questions.

It took a good five tension-filled minutes for Luke to peel himself away from the reporters and appear by Katie’s side, freshly showered and grinning like a kid in a candy store.

Katie felt the tension inside her slide away at his happiness. He’d been so nervous about today, though he’d admitted it to no one but her.

“You found that zone of yours,” she said. “Congratulations.”

He pulled her close and kissed her, then spoke softly. “I’ve decided making love to you before I pitch is lucky. Actually, I think making love to you before and after is lucky. Let’s get out of here.” He drew her hand in his and tugged her toward the truck.

Katie’s mind and body screamed “yes” to the idea of finding her way into Luke’s strong arms, him buried inside her, leaving no room for anything but pleasure.

Deep down, she knew she needed tonight, too. Everything was on the verge of spinning out of control, and she had a horrible knot in her stomach, warning her that a crash was on its way.

11

THE TEXAS SERIES WAS behind them without any incidents. The Hawks’ record to date: four wins out of six games. Noah and Josh were convinced the letter writer was someone from the team who couldn’t mail a letter from Texas without being obvious. They’d test that theory soon enough with a three-day home series starting again after two days off.

“Watch how he cuts under the fastball,” Luke’s father, J.C., said to the television, his voice penetrating the kitchen door where Katie sat with Luke’s mother, Ann. J.C. continued, “See! Every time! You throw him some heat, boy.”

“They can spend hours critiquing the players,” Ann warned, her green eyes twinkling, her silvery-gray hair brushing her shoulders. “My husband retired from coaching three years ago, here in Austin, when I left teaching. Sometimes, I think he didn’t get the memo. I hope you’re not in a rush to leave.” The timer on the oven went off.

“You’re making chocolate macaroons,” Katie said. “I’m not going anywhere.” She liked Ann and J.C., and she could see why Luke had insisted on keeping the stalker a secret. They were so happily retired. And so very proud as parents. “My mother used to make macaroons.”

Ann pulled the tray from the oven and set it out to cool. “Used to?” Ann asked.

“I lost my parents in a car accident a few years ago,” Katie explained, pushing to her feet. “Let me help you with the chocolate.”

“Oh, dear,” Ann exclaimed, shoving the oven closed. “Honey, I’m sorry. I would never have made these if I’d known your mother made them.”

“Oh, Ann,” she said. “My mother made macaroons to make me smile. She’d expect nothing less today.”

A warm look crossed Ann’s face before she inclined her head. “Then let’s get that chocolate on top so we can get to eating.”

It was a good two hours later when Katie sat on Luke’s old bed in the middle of his old bedroom where Spiderman and Troy Aikman decorated the walls; Ann sat across from her.

She and Ann had talked for hours. It turned out Ann had been a grief counselor for teens, and somehow, Katie had started talking about her sister and then never stopped. It was the first time she’d talked—really talked—about losing her parents since their deaths.

“Please tell me she didn’t pull out the photo albums,” Luke said, appearing in the doorway.

Katie looked up, her stomach fluttering at the country-boy sex appeal he oozed in faded jeans and a light blue button-down Western shirt that highlighted his eyes.

“I most certainly did not,” Ann assured him. “I promised her I would next time, though.” She patted Katie’s jean-clad leg. “Incentive for you to come back.”

Katie smiled at Ann, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at Luke. She had no idea how he felt about the invitation. As much as she’d enjoyed the day, her heart was heavy with memories, her emotions twisted.

It wasn’t long until Katie was given a bear hug by J.C., who, wearing his Hawks jersey with his son’s number on it, was a good six-four and as broad as he was tall. “You come back here, little girl. Nice to see my son finally bring someone home.”

Katie smiled. “I’d like that.” After the visit, there was no question about why Luke had wanted to keep his parents in the dark about his stalker. They’d be worried sick if they knew. But they also had no idea Katie was here because Luke had no option but to bring her along.