pitcher, and as the ball shot toward him, he swung.
“Strike one,” the umpire called behind him.
He concentrated on the pitcher. This time the ball came in low, and Ian shifted his leg to miss it.
“Ball one.”
He riveted his focus on the pitching mound, ready. This time it was high.
“Ball two.”
Ian calculated. He’d thrown him two balls, slow and easy. Speculating, he looked for a fast, straight ball. Ian tightened his stance, waiting.
The ball barreled toward him. Like a wound spring, Ian let the bat fly. The whack resounded, and the ball soared. Ian didn’t hesitate. He dropped the bat and ran for first. The first baseman stood alert, waiting for the ball. Ian flew past first and slid into second just before the second baseman’s catch.
His team cheered, and he braced his left hand on his thigh and wiped away the perspiration from his forehead with the other.
Esther came up to bat. She’d shifted her cap, and now the bill was in back.
Ian grinned, but no smile softened Esther’s look. Grasping the bat high over her right shoulder, she waited at the plate, her trim legs extended in a confident stance, her eyes on the ball, the bat ready to spring.
On second base, Ian squinted at the pitcher, then looked at Esther and held his breath.
The pitcher’s arm shot forward as the ball tore from his hand, low, straight and fast.
But Esther had anticipated the pitch. Lowering her stance, she hit the ball with a crack, and her legs propelled her forward before Ian had gotten his bearings. With the ball heading for right field, Ian pushed off the bag and raced to third, then home.
When the dust settled, Esther stood on second base, and the Breezes had evened the score.
Jim Mason came to the plate and smashed the ball beyond the left fielder. Esther passed third, then crossed home plate, and Jim followed, moving their score up two runs.
Amid the cheers, Ian pulled Esther into his arms, giving her a giant hug. “You’re a trouper.”
“That’s why I hate competition. I’m not a happy loser,” she said.
Her response gave him a good laugh, and he tousled her hair as she stepped aside.
“Give the lady a kiss for that run,” a voice called out.
He chuckled and caught Esther’s hand, knowing Jeff’s and Rachel’s attention was glued to their actions.
“If you don’t, I will,” Jim said, giving Ian a nudge.
Esther blanched. Her gaze clung to his as if she was wondering what he would do. Trying to look as if he’d done it a million times, Ian drew her into his arms and lowered his lips to hers, to cheers of encouragement. He drew back in a heartbeat, but the warmth of her mouth and the softness of her lips lingered.
Smiling at the crowd, Esther stepped away. But Ian noticed the flush on her neck and the unsteady movement of her step. He’d flustered her. But was the reaction positive or negative? Had she enjoyed the kiss…or resented it? With no time to ponder hisquestion, he stepped out of the way for the next batter.
By the bottom of the ninth inning, the game was tied—eight all. “Okay, this is it,” Ian said, moving into step with Esther. “One more run and the game’s over.”
“I’ll do that myself just to get this finished.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, sliding his arm around her waist, “you’re enjoying every minute of this.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I am? Funny. I didn’t know that.”
He’d enjoyed every minute of it. Being with her…and the kiss. The memory washed over him. He prayed the experience wouldn’t put a new barrier between them as so many things had. “I hope you understood about the kiss. I didn’t have much…”
She glanced at him, then looked away. “You didn’t have any choice. I understand.”
Did he hear disdain in her voice? He’d have kissed her on his own if she’d invited it. Everything he did left him uncertain.
When Ian came up to bat, a man was on second. If he could get a good hit, their team could score the winning
“Strike one,” the umpire called behind him.
He concentrated on the pitcher. This time the ball came in low, and Ian shifted his leg to miss it.
“Ball one.”
He riveted his focus on the pitching mound, ready. This time it was high.
“Ball two.”
Ian calculated. He’d thrown him two balls, slow and easy. Speculating, he looked for a fast, straight ball. Ian tightened his stance, waiting.
The ball barreled toward him. Like a wound spring, Ian let the bat fly. The whack resounded, and the ball soared. Ian didn’t hesitate. He dropped the bat and ran for first. The first baseman stood alert, waiting for the ball. Ian flew past first and slid into second just before the second baseman’s catch.
His team cheered, and he braced his left hand on his thigh and wiped away the perspiration from his forehead with the other.
Esther came up to bat. She’d shifted her cap, and now the bill was in back.
Ian grinned, but no smile softened Esther’s look. Grasping the bat high over her right shoulder, she waited at the plate, her trim legs extended in a confident stance, her eyes on the ball, the bat ready to spring.
On second base, Ian squinted at the pitcher, then looked at Esther and held his breath.
The pitcher’s arm shot forward as the ball tore from his hand, low, straight and fast.
But Esther had anticipated the pitch. Lowering her stance, she hit the ball with a crack, and her legs propelled her forward before Ian had gotten his bearings. With the ball heading for right field, Ian pushed off the bag and raced to third, then home.
When the dust settled, Esther stood on second base, and the Breezes had evened the score.
Jim Mason came to the plate and smashed the ball beyond the left fielder. Esther passed third, then crossed home plate, and Jim followed, moving their score up two runs.
Amid the cheers, Ian pulled Esther into his arms, giving her a giant hug. “You’re a trouper.”
“That’s why I hate competition. I’m not a happy loser,” she said.
Her response gave him a good laugh, and he tousled her hair as she stepped aside.
“Give the lady a kiss for that run,” a voice called out.
He chuckled and caught Esther’s hand, knowing Jeff’s and Rachel’s attention was glued to their actions.
“If you don’t, I will,” Jim said, giving Ian a nudge.
Esther blanched. Her gaze clung to his as if she was wondering what he would do. Trying to look as if he’d done it a million times, Ian drew her into his arms and lowered his lips to hers, to cheers of encouragement. He drew back in a heartbeat, but the warmth of her mouth and the softness of her lips lingered.
Smiling at the crowd, Esther stepped away. But Ian noticed the flush on her neck and the unsteady movement of her step. He’d flustered her. But was the reaction positive or negative? Had she enjoyed the kiss…or resented it? With no time to ponder hisquestion, he stepped out of the way for the next batter.
By the bottom of the ninth inning, the game was tied—eight all. “Okay, this is it,” Ian said, moving into step with Esther. “One more run and the game’s over.”
“I’ll do that myself just to get this finished.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, sliding his arm around her waist, “you’re enjoying every minute of this.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I am? Funny. I didn’t know that.”
He’d enjoyed every minute of it. Being with her…and the kiss. The memory washed over him. He prayed the experience wouldn’t put a new barrier between them as so many things had. “I hope you understood about the kiss. I didn’t have much…”
She glanced at him, then looked away. “You didn’t have any choice. I understand.”
Did he hear disdain in her voice? He’d have kissed her on his own if she’d invited it. Everything he did left him uncertain.
When Ian came up to bat, a man was on second. If he could get a good hit, their team could score the winning
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