* * *
“Putt-putt-putt...” Jack singsonged under his breath as he sat in his den, a happy man.
He’d had himself a day. A good day. A damn good day.
Life didn’t have to revolve around a five-man rotation. He didn’t have to worry where his lucky socks were. He didn’t have to spend long hours in the training room, his arm stuck in the whirlpool bath or jammed into a vat of ice.
He didn’t have to study films, or sit in the dugout watching batters, devising strategies for pitching to them the next night. No more team flights, team meetings, schlepping his luggage, sleeping in hotel rooms, eating in restaurants that hadn’t even heard the words cheese steak, yet alone known how to cook one.
Nope. He could just sit here, watch the tube, take a nap, down a whole bag of potato chips. The little woman upstairs, putting the kid to bed, the bills paid. No stress, no muss, no fuss. Just one day following the other.
God. He just might throw up.
Yeah, well, he thought, changing the channel, at least he’d given it a shot. Domestic bliss. And he’d had fun today. But was this any way to live a life? No. No way.
Maybe.
He had a responsibility to Candy. He knew that. An idiot would know that. Cecily could come back tomorrow or stay away for the next five years. Either way, Cecily was not going to get her hands on Candy again. She was just too damn irresponsible.
While he was responsible. Right?
Wrong. He was unemployed. Rich, granted, but, unemployed—unemployable. Single. And playing tugboat was a far cry from actually raising a kid.
But there was Keely, wasn’t there?
She liked Candy. Hell, she was soppy over her.
Except that Keely was going back to New York right after she finished decorating his house, her pockets filled with the money he’d pay her. She’d made that clear enough. If Keely was nothing else, she was direct, honest. He was a means to an end for her.
Jack hit the controller, mindlessly surfing the channels as he thought some more.
Okay, so Keely would leave when the house was done. Unless she had to stay long enough to get even soppier over Candy, be unable to leave her. Because Jack needed Keely, or someone like her, if he was going to convince a judge that he should have custody of his cousin.
Keely was already on the scene. She was here, she was competent, and the judge would probably be afraid to say no to her. Lord knew Jack was afraid to say no to her, not when she had a full head of steam working for her.
Besides, he liked her. Bossy, opinionated, take-charge, hates to be wrong, out to prove herself... vulnerable, soft-hearted, honest, smart, competent, a great cook. And beautiful. What the hell was wrong with this Gregory guy? How had he let her get away?
“Probably wasn’t man enough for her,” Jack said, picking up his soda can, taking a large swallow that went down the wrong pipe, so that he ended by choking, coughing, as he reached over to grab the ringing phone.
“Jack? Is that you?”
“Yeah... yeah... hold on,” Jack said, covering the mouthpiece as he coughed, then cleared his throat. “Hi, Tim,” he said after a moment, wiping at his eyes. “Good game yesterday. What’s up?”
“Word’s out, that’s what’s up. Johnson, from The Daily News, cornered me at my locker after the game, wanted to know if it was true you turned down the Japanese deal because the White Sox are interested.”
“Chicago? Chicago isn’t interested in me. And who told them about the Japanese deal? What did you tell them?”
“The truth, that I hadn’t heard anything. But Johnson said he had it from an inside source. You know the translation for that one, right? Mort.”
Jack hit the MUTE button on the TV and sat back in his chair. “If there isn’t any interest, make up your own. Yeah, that sounds just like Mort. I guess I have to make it plainer to him I’m done. Not only am I done, but I’m finally feeling pretty good about being done. I’ve got a life to live, you know. I’ve got Candy here, a nice house, plenty of money—I don’t need the hassle anymore, Tim. I really don’t.”
“So you’re going domestic, Jack? Let me guess: Keely’s got something to do with this, hasn’t she?”
“Keely?” Jack shook his head. “No, of course not. What would she have to do with anything?”
“I saw her, Jack,” Tim reminded him: “And it’s not only great looks, she’s a nice lady. Just make sure you know what you’re doing. I wouldn’t want you to get caught up on the rebound.”
Jack stood, began to pace. “Rebound? What rebound? Did Sandra Bullock dump me and I didn’t know about it? Hell, I don’t know Sandra Bullock.”
“I mean on the rebound from your first love—baseball—and from losing your career,” Tim told him. “You’re at loose ends, bro, which could make home and hearth—and baby and blonde—look pretty good to you. Just be careful, okay? Look, I’ve got to go now. We’re catching a flight to Florida tonight, but it’s only for two games. We’ll be back in Philly again on Thursday for a pretty good stretch at home. Maybe we can get together then? You can bring the little family down.”
“It’s not my little—oh, forget it. Give me a call when you get back.”
Jack put down the phone, then lowered himself onto the leather couch. He had to think about this. No. No, he didn’t. He didn’t have to think about this, because there was nothing to think about. Rebound? Tim was nuts. And he, Jack Trehan, wasn’t stupid!
Oh, yeah? So why had he been watching the House and Garden Channel, on mute, for the last ten minutes? It wasn’t as if he had any big plans for stenciling a border of ducks around the top of the den walls.
He threw down the controller and just about jumped out of his seat, heading for the kitchen. “Keely!” he called out, heading up the backstairs, but not before grabbing a hunk of freshly made brownie from the pan beside the stove. “Keely? Where are you?”
She poked her head outside her door, made a face at him. “What? Is something wrong? You’re going to wake Candy.”
He wanted to shout at her: “Yeah, there’s something wrong. You’re damn right there’s something wrong. How did you get me to think I wanted any of this?”
Instead he winced a little, said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she was asleep. Would... would you come downstairs for a minute? I nee—want to talk to you.”
“Well,” she said, still with only her head visible, “I’m not dressed...”
“I’ve seen you in your nightgown before, remember?”
“No, Jack, you don’t get it. I mean, I’m not dressed. Not at all. Give me a couple of minutes, okay?”
Jack stood just outside her closed door for about one of those minutes, considering what would have happened if he’d just barged into her bedroom without knocking.
“Get a grip, Trehan,” he told himself as he headed back down the stairs and got a fresh can of soda from the door of the refrigerator. He fought down the urge to hold the cold can to his temples, like some overwhelmed old lady about to faint, and headed back into the den.
He collapsed onto the couch, then quickly stood up again and sat down in one of the chairs. Better they should be chair-to-chair and not side-by-side on the couch.
“So? What’s up?” Keely asked, walking into the room in her bare feet, wearing God only knew what under a short pink terry-cloth robe. Please let her be wearing something under that robe.
“Sit down, Keely,” he said, then leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees. “I think we need to understand each other here, okay?”
She sat, then looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. “Understand each other how, Jack?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, shaking his head. “For now, let’s just remember that I’m your employer, and you’re my employee.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I’m not your employee. I’m working for you, but I’m not your employee. Not in the strictest sense. In the strictest sense, I’m working for my Aunt
Mary. You’ve just temporarily hired my services.”
“I don’t want your serv—oh, hell!” Jack couldn’t sit still, because if he sat still he had a mind-blowing front seat view of Keely’s long, bare legs. He got to his feet, walked over to stand with his back to the television set. “Look, Keely, we’ve sort of gotten ourselves into a mess here. You weren’t supposed to be living here.”
“But Candy—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” he said, cutting her off. “There wasn’t supposed to be a Candy, either. I don’t know how it happened, but we really made a mess of this. I should have called Joey right away. Called somebody. I wasn’t thinking straight, Keely. I admit that. I was too wrapped up in what was going on in my own life, setting up the tryout—feeling sorry for myself.”
She nodded her head. “Well, when you’re right, you’re right, Jack,” she said.
“Gee, thanks. You couldn’t lie, tell me I had every right to feel sorry for myself?”
“Well, of course you had every right.”
“Thanks,” he said shortly, wondering where this conversation was going. So far, it was going nowhere.
Keely stood up, walked around the coffee table to stand in front of him. He could back up, but all that would do would be to crash him into the TV, and make him look as stupid as he felt at the moment. Damn Tim. Leave it to his brother to screw up his head.
“Look, Jack, let me help you out here, okay? You had a bad break, no question. And then, before you could totally come to grips with it, Candy landed on your doorstep. I landed on your doorstep. You needed help, I needed money, and we struck a bargain. How am I doing so far?” She lifted one hand, brushed at the corner of his mouth, sending shock waves straight through him. “Sorry. You had a bit of brownie stuck there,” she said, her cheeks coloring. “Anyway, shall I continue?”
He gave her a quick wave of both hands, wordlessly giving her permission to continue. He would have said something, except he could smell some really nice perfume, or maybe just soap, and he liked the way it smelled. He liked the way her hair looked, pulled back in a silly ponytail, with small little wisps curling at the nape of her neck. And why hadn’t he ever noticed that she had these little golden flecks in her brown eyes?
“Jack? Are you still listening?” Keely asked, tipping her head as she looked at him. Damn, what did she see when she looked at him? Hopefully, she couldn’t see what he was thinking.
“I’m listening,” he told her, stepping past her, going over to the coffee table to arm himself with his can of soda. He took a long drink. “Go on.”
“There isn’t that much more to say. You had that tryout, you decided not to take the offer to go to Japan, and now you’re finally free to come to grips with the fact that your career is over. So now, now that you’ve figured that out, you’ve also finally looked around and noticed that Candy’s still here. I’m still here.”
“Candy’s staying here,” Jack said tightly, because that was the one thing in this world he could be sure of right now. “I’m hiring a lawyer in the morning. A battalion of lawyers, if that’s what it takes.”
Keely’s smile grabbed at his gut, twisted it. “Oh, Jack—that’s wonderful. Just wonderful! I knew you’d fall in love with her if you just gave yourself half a chance.”
Okay, he had his opening. Now, with Tim’s warning still ringing in his ears, he stepped up, ready to take one last swing, go for the fence. “I’m happy you approve. Besides, I have a responsibility to the whole family. Candy is family, remember. But that also means I have to make some sort of permanent arrangements. Candy’s had people walking in and out of her life ever since she was born, if I know my cousin, and I do. She needs something more permanent. So,” he ended, taking a deep breath, “I’d like to ask you something.”
Keely stood very still. “Go on. Ask.”
“All right. I know this wasn’t part of the deal. Hell, most of this wasn’t part of the deal. But sometimes, without any warning... well, things happen, don’t they? What started out one way ends up another, right? I know you didn’t come here to take care of Candy, and I probably shouldn’t ask you to think of anything more permanent. But... well, I have to think about more permanent arrangements. So”—he took a deep breath, finished in a rush—“would you help me find a nanny for Candy?”
“Find a... you want me to... but you said perm—that is, you didn’t want...?” Keely bit her lips together, nodded. “Sure,” she said brightly. Really brightly. “I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow. I’d be... I’d be happy to help. Anything else? Because I’m sort of tired.”
“No, nothing else,” he said, picking up the remote control and aiming it toward the television set.
“Candy has her appointment with the pediatrician tomorrow,” Keely added. “You are still going, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Sure,” Jack said, surfing the channels, not seeing a damn thing. “And thanks for helping me get all of this rolling. I really appreciate your help.”
“Sure, no problem. Well, good night, then,” Keely said, and slowly left the room, although he could hear her break into a run when she couldn’t have been more than halfway through the kitchen.
Jack swore under his breath, throwing down the remote control. Step up to the plate and take a swing? Where had that come from? Tim could have told him, anybody could have told him. He never had been able to hit worth a damn...