Straight from the Heart by Tami Hoag Page B

hip bumped up against Jace’s. His expression was one of concern and the same tenderness he had shown Justin.
    “You’re a wonderful mother, Becca,” he said softly, earnestly.
    Tears welled up in her eyes. He could be the sweetest man on earth. It was so unfair that he could also be the most fickle. For the moment, though, she welcomed his words and the heartfelt sentiment behind them and remembered that he had once been her best friend.
    “Thank you,” she whispered, trying to smile and sniffle at the same time. “I try.”
    “I know you do.” He stroked a hand over her dark hair, which gleamed under the amber lights. In what was fast becoming a habit, Jace leaned down and kissed her softly. She offered no protest, which was encouragement enough to bring a smile to his face. “Are you ready to beat me at PacMan?”
    Rebecca groaned. “You know how I am with machines.”
    Jace eased himself out of the booth, carefully straightening his left leg. Then he gave Rebecca a hand out. Testing his luck, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll let you cheat.”
    Rebecca wasn’t sure who was more fun to watch, Jace and Justin or Hugh and Muriel. Her father seemed to be having the time of his life. With Muriel Marquardt. Who would have guessed, she wondered. All these years Muriel had lived right across the alley.
    It made Rebecca feel a little guilty, but she had never really wondered whether her father would want another romantic involvement. He had loved Gabrielle in a way that happened once in a lifetime. It had never occurred to Rebecca that he might yearn for a relationship with another woman.
    “Dad and Muriel are having a great time,” she said as Jace slid down onto a chair at the little table they had claimed off the games area.
    Jace kept his eyes protectively on Justin, making sure the boy made it safely through the crowd to the machine his grandfather was playing. “Yeah. Hey, that Muriel is pretty sharp at pinball. I think she’s some kind of hustler.” He turned back to Rebecca with a smile that warmed her heart. “How about you, beautiful? Are you having fun?”
    She smiled down at the table, embarrassed that he could still make her blush with nothing more than a look. “I’m having a very nice time.”
    “Gee, could you try not to sound so surprised?” he complained teasingly. “The male ego is a delicate creature.”
    “A delicate creature the size of a sperm whale,” she corrected, chuckling. Jace reached across the table and tweaked her nose.
    “Hey, look! It’s Cooper!” a voice boomed above the noise of the room.
    Jace looked up and grinned as two of his new teammates and their girlfriends made their way through the throng carrying pizzas and a pitcher of beer. He had begun attending team meetings, anticipating the day when he would be able to work out with the Mavericks and eventually play with them. The team was a motley crew of jouneyman players, more of them on their way down than up, but they were, for the most part, nice guys. Jace had hit it off with them instantly.
    “Becca,” he said, standing up, “this is Pat Wylie, the Mavericks’ catcher, and Jerome Tarvin, shortstop and Elvis impersonator extraordinaire.”
    Jerome jerked a hand back through his well-oiled pompadour, curled his lip, and sang a couple of bars of “Hound Dog.” Everybody laughed and applauded. The players introduced their girlfriends and asked Rebecca how long it would be before they could get Jace into the Mavericks’ lineup.
    “Soon,” she promised. “He’s making progress.”
    “Not soon enough,” Wylie said. “Comitzki is like a sieve at third base. Everything goes right through him. I think the guy’s legally blind.”
    “Then he ought to give up third base and become an umpire,” Jace suggested, chuckling. Jerome twisted his hips and sang a line of “Don’t Be Cruel.”
    “It’ll be a different story when we get Super Cooper in there,” Pat announced as he poured mugs of