Must Like Kids

“Does she still play?” Alec asked. She was a cute little thing despite her penchant for speaking her mind.

“T-ball? Not anymore. Too old. She played one year of coach-pitch baseball, but now she’s into soccer. She has a game on Saturday.”

“Are you telling me I need to clear my schedule again?” he teased.

Julia’s tone was thoughtful. “We’ll see. You might need another dry run, so to speak, before I turn you loose on kids who are more impressionable than mine.”

It was an interesting assessment. Alec wanted to be insulted, but before he could express any indignation, Julia was calling for her son to stop playing in the chalky dirt next to the home team’s bench. A couple of the other kids were doing the same thing, and their parents were after them too as soon as a stifling breeze kicked up and began carrying the dust out toward the spectators.

“Serious ballplayers, I see.”

The kids all wore bright orange jerseys and ball caps, sporting the sponsor’s name. If they were bothered by the heat or the now gritty air, they didn’t show it.

Julia laughed. The sound was pleasant, as was the way humor lit up her eyes and caused the dimples to dent her cheeks.

“Wait till they let ground balls slip by in the outfield because they’re too busy picking dandelions, or the game has to be stopped for a few minutes because the batter has lost a tooth.” She stopped walking and set down the chairs. “This is a good spot.”

Five minutes and one pinched finger later, the canopy was up and they were ensconced in a pair of relatively comfortable lawn chairs underneath it. Out of the sun, the heat was almost tolerable.

“How’s your finger?” she inquired politely. She’d been scanning the area, waving to this person and calling out a greeting to that one. All the while, she kept an eye on her kids.

Alec studied the purplish welt just between the first and second knuckles on his index finger. “No worse than my pride. How do you get this thing up by yourself?”

“I don’t. Colin and Danielle are too small to be much help, but I can usually recruit another parent or two to give me a hand.”

As if on cue, a large woman wearing a baseball cap and a shirt emblazoned with Logan’s Mom ambled into view.

“Hey, Julia, I was just making my way over to help when I saw you didn’t need me. So, who’s your new friend?”

She grinned at Alec, openly curious. He’d already noticed some of the parents casting furtive glances his way. Julia was going to have some explaining to do at the next game, he figured, amused.

“This is Alec McAvoy. He’s a...business associate. Alec, this is Karen Croswell. She’s—”

“Logan’s mom,” he finished for her.

Karen glanced down at her well-endowed chest. Her son’s name began to jiggle with her accompanying laughter. When her gaze returned to Alec’s it held as much feminine interest as it did humor.

“So, you and Julia know one another through work, hmm?”

“That’s right.”

Julia cleared her throat. “Alec is a client. I invited him along so he could get a feel for what parents go through.”

The explanation filled in some blanks while also being cryptic enough to raise more questions.

“Oh? Are you and your wife expecting a child?”

He decided it was easier just to play along with her fishing expedition. “No kids, no wife.”

Although it was true, he didn’t appreciate the way Julia added, “Alec is married to his career.”

If she’d been trying to warn off Karen, it backfired. “So you’re just a client of Julia’s.”

“Right.”

“Yep. That’s all,” Julia agreed.

Karen’s eyes lit up like twin Christmas trees. “Like Julia, here, I’m a single mom. That’s why the two of us stick together at T-ball games. We help each other out with things like raising canopies. The other moms have husbands to give them a hand.”

He glanced at Julia. Her expression was inscrutable. “Julia looks like she manages just fine. She’s—”

“Fit,” Julia finished for him. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“And I took it as one.”

Alec wondered.

Karen, who’d been watching their exchange, was frowning. Confused no doubt. He couldn’t say he blamed her.

She said, “Julia is a lot more resourceful than I am. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“You’d be fine, Karen,” Julia replied with a patient smile. Then added, “Are Logan’s allergies flaring up again? He looks like he could use a tissue before the game starts.”

Karen withdrew, but not before shaking Alec’s hand again. “It was really nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you again. I’d be happy to help you research what parents go through.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Karen comes on a little...strong, but she has a good heart,” Julia remarked when they were alone again.

“She seemed...nice.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“She’s not your type, I gather.”

“No.” He said it slowly, mentally glancing around for land mines.

“Kids can be a turnoff.”

Uh-oh. “My interest or lack thereof in this case has nothing to do with her being a single mother.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’ll date women with children, as long as nannies are involved.”

Forget land mines. It was his temper that was threatening to blow now. Alec counted to ten. Even then his tone was sharp. “That’s not fair.”

She shrugged, unbothered by either his tone or his assertion. “That’s how you come across to the baby-product-buying public.”

Only the baby-product-buying public? he wondered. But he said, “As I already told you, I didn’t have anything against Laurel’s children, and they certainly weren’t the reason things between us ended.” At