The Calamity Janes

“On your next visit, then,” he said. “Or will that be a long time coming?”

She didn’t like the implied criticism. “I get home when I can.”

“Every couple of years is what I hear.”

“Been asking a lot of probing questions tonight, Mr. Hamilton?” she inquired, disconcerted by the thought. A part of her had hoped she’d been wrong about him being like all the other reporters.

“A few. You obviously lead a busy life.”

“I do.”

“Too bad it’s not fulfilling,” he said, then gave her a jaunty wave as he started away.

This time she was the one calling him back. “Why would you say something like that?” she demanded indignantly. “Who have you been talking to?”

“Deductive reasoning,” he said. “Besides, you admitted as much earlier.”

“When?”

“When I said I wanted to interview the town’s success stories,” he answered. “You gave me your interpretation of success, then all but said you couldn’t claim to have that kind of achievement.”

Emma hadn’t realized her words had been so telling, or that Ford Hamilton was sensitive enough to pick up on what she’d left unspoken.

“Well?” he prodded. “Are you denying it?”

She forced a grim smile. “No comment.”

He grinned. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“And if you quote me on it, I’ll call you a liar,” she retorted.

“Oh, this isn’t for publication,” he assured her. “It’s just between us. I like to tuck away useful information about the people I meet.”

Something about the way he said it—the way he looked at her when he said it—suggested she might have been better off giving him the interview he’d wanted hours ago. This conversation had red flags all over it.

Chapter 3

Emma had expected to be on her way back to Denver first thing Sunday morning, but somehow Cassie and the others had persuaded her to stay over for a class picnic.

“We’re playing baseball. We need you,” Cassie had insisted.

It had been sometime after midnight, and Emma’s resistance had been low. After her conversation with Ford Hamilton about the lack of fulfillment in her life and Lauren’s suggestion that she was trying to prove something to her ex-husband, she hadn’t been looking forward to going back to Denver, anyway. It hadn’t taken a lot of persuasion to convince her to spend one more night in Winding River. The promise that she could manage her team had been the clincher.

The women were doing surprisingly well against the men, largely thanks to Lauren. She distracted the men so badly that they’d had only two hits in six innings. They were even less successful at fielding the hits made by the women. As a result, the women were winning two to nothing. Emma didn’t trust such a slim lead. She wanted more runs.

She glanced around in search of her star player. Emma finally spotted Lauren sitting in the shade, Ford Hamilton stretched out beside her, obviously hanging on her every word. Something that felt suspiciously like jealousy streaked through Emma at the sight of Lauren staring raptly at the charismatic journalist in his faded, formfitting jeans, sneakers and T-shirt.

Irritated by her reaction, Emma turned away, wiped the beads of sweat from her brow, glanced down at her lineup and realized that Lauren was next up to bat. How was Emma supposed to manage her team to a victory when her star player was more interested in a good-looking guy than she was in winning?

“Lauren, if it’s not too much trouble, could you take a couple of warm-up swings?” she called out testily. “It’s almost your turn to bat.”

Lauren merely waved an acknowledgment, then turned back to Ford. He said something that made her laugh just as she stood up and strolled back toward the bench, hips already swaying in the suggestive way that had the men on the field all but panting. Cassie’s little bloop of a hit, which should have been an easy out, landed untouched in short center field, and she reached first base before a single male reacted. Emma grinned, her mood improving.

“Everything okay?” Lauren asked, regarding her curiously.

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Something in your voice a minute ago. You sounded almost jealous that I was chatting with Ford, but that couldn’t be, could it?” She seemed to find the possibility highly amusing.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I hardly know the man. If you’re interested in him, he’s all yours—though I’m surprised that you of all people would give the time of day to a journalist,” she said, figuring Lauren knew better than most people how annoyingly intrusive the press could be.

“So? I hear reporters can be decent human beings. The Winding River News isn’t some sleazy tabloid. Besides, Ford seems like a nice guy.”

Emma lost patience. “Do we have to have a discussion of Ford Hamilton right this minute? You’re up to bat. And the pitcher’s beginning to look irritated.”

Actually the pitcher’s tongue was all but hanging out as he ogled Lauren’s short shorts and snug tank top.

“Don’t mind John. He’ll wait,” Lauren said. “This is important.”

“No,” Emma said firmly. “It’s not. Winning this game is the only thing that’s important.”

Lauren shook her head. “Sweetie, you are in serious need of an adjustment in your priorities, but I suppose I can’t fix everything in a single weekend.”

When Emma started to speak, Lauren patted her hand. “Never mind. I’m going.” She picked up a bat, slung it over her shoulder and headed for the batter’s box, where she promptly wiggled her hips outrageously. Four pitches later she had drawn a walk. John grinned as he watched her sashay to first base.

“Amazing,” Ford said, sitting down on the bench next to Emma. “I think your team definitely has an unfair advantage.”

“We wouldn’t if men weren’t so predictable,” Emma retorted. “What are you doing here, anyway? Still stalking your prey?”

“I prefer to think of it as interviewing my sources,” he countered. “It’s going to be a great story. Too bad you won’t be part of it.”

“Be careful about libel, Mr. Hamilton. It can be a nasty business.”

“I hardly think there can be anything libelous in reporting how several Winding High grads achieved success.”

“I suppose that depends on how conscientious you are when you write your article.”

“Do you have a lot of experience with libel cases?” he asked, studying her curiously.

“No. It’s not my area of expertise, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the law.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Of course, that is a subject I wrote my thesis on when I got my graduate degree, so I have a working knowledge of the law as well. Perhaps we can compare notes sometime.”

Refusing to admit that she was startled by his degree or his area of study, she frowned at him. “I wouldn’t count on it. Just be sure you keep your facts straight about my friends, and you and I won’t have a problem. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a game to play.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that they chose you to manage the team? Do you take everything you do so seriously?”

“Pretty much,” she said, then added defensively, “I don’t consider that a character flaw.”