LITMIR.BIZ

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backed up two steps, sure her eyes had gone wide and stupid. “You’re … you’re flirting with me?”

      “Do you mind? Honesty seems to run in our family.”

      She felt her head moving from side to side. Did this man, this absolutely drop-dead handsome man, just agree that he was flirting with her? Her, Elizabeth Carstairs, better known as Mom? Her? “Uh … no?”

      They exchanged smiles, Elizabeth rather lost in the moment—someplace she hadn’t been in too many years to recall.

      Clunk.

       “Mom!”

      Elizabeth watched as Will’s eyebrows shot up even as his head turned toward his car—his beautiful, black, shiny Mercedes.

      “Mikey, what did you do?” she asked, already knowing the answer before she saw the SUV’s rear passenger door, its edge open against the side of the luxury car. “No! Don’t move! Don’t touch that door,” she said as she raced around the front of the SUV.

      “It slipped out of my hand, Mom,” Mikey wailed before turning on Danny. “Why didn’t you catch it?”

      “Coach said we don’t know how to catch, remember?” Danny shot back, and then quickly scooted into the backseat and his booster on the far side of the car. Mikey followed him, moving on a par with the speed of light.

      “Hands up,” Elizabeth ordered automatically, waiting until Mikey had raised his hands above his head so that she knew she wouldn’t pinch his fingers when she shut the door. Okay, slammed the door. Then she turned, reluctantly, to see that Will was running his fingers down the side of his own back side door. “How bad is it?”

      “I think we’re good,” he said, wetting his finger and rubbing the tip against the paint. “Yup, we’re good. Which is a good thing, because otherwise I was going to have to kill the kid.”

      “You’d have to get in line to do that. I warn them and warn them about letting go of car doors …”

      “Hey, Elizabeth, relax,” Will soothed, putting his hands on her bare upper arms. “I was kidding. It’s all right. I’m not upset. Accidents happen.”

      Elizabeth tried to swallow. Her skin seemed on fire where Will’s hands were touching her, yet the rest of her body seemed to have gone icy-cold. What was wrong with her? “You … you must have children of your own. To be so understanding, I mean.”

      He shook his head. “Nope, not even a dog. And no wife, either, since you asked.”

      She stepped away from his unnerving touch. “I didn’t ask.”

      “Not in so many words, no. But I know you’re a widow, so it seems only fair that you should know my marital status. Which is and always has been single.” He held up his left hand, fingers spread. “See? No tan line around the fourth finger, left hand. And now that we’ve got that all out of the way, are you ready to go buy some baseball equipment for these two?”

      Actually, she was ready to crawl into a hole and then yank it in after her, but since he probably already knew that, she just nodded as she pulled her keys from her shorts pocket. He snagged them deftly and walked her around the car to the passenger side, opening the door for her.

      She got inside. She watched him as he closed the door. She put on her seat belt. She faced front. She folded her trembling hands in her lap. Did her best to remember to breathe.

      And, for the first time in too many years to remember, she let events just happen.

      It was like shooting fish in a barrel, Will thought, although he’d never held a gun, and the only fish he’d ever seen arrived on his dinner plate, sprinkled with fresh parsley.

      Elizabeth Carstairs was one beautiful woman. One beautiful, vulnerable woman. She had a bit of frightened doe about her, yet she was certainly take charge when it came to her sons, who seemed to know she had limits and carefully avoided them.

      Will was pretty sure he could have Elizabeth in his bed without much effort and without even breaking a sweat. Except he was also pretty sure that was not what Chessie wanted him to do. All right, so he knew it wasn’t what Chessie wanted him to do. In fact, she’d probably hunt him down and strangle him if he took the flirtation business that far.

      No, he was here to wake up the slumbering Widow Carstairs, make her feel desirable and female and—didn’t the woman own a mirror? Damn, she was gorgeous. Skin like honey, soft brown eyes that betrayed her every mood. She would be wise to never play poker.

      Then there was that fantastic jawline that the style of her streaky blond curls turned into a regal work of art. A tall, slim body, with curves in all the right places. And those long, straight legs. A man could easily fantasize about those legs.

      What the hell was the matter with Chessie? She knew he wasn’t a saint. She sure as hell had to know he wasn’t a damn martyr. What did she think she was doing, throwing a woman like Elizabeth Carstairs into his lap?

      And one more thing. Why had he wanted to punch Greg in the chops when he’d winked and made a fairly obscene pumping gesture when Will had told him he was taking Elizabeth and her sons to lunch? Greg hadn’t meant anything by it, at least nothing men didn’t think about and say to each other all the time.

      It just didn’t seem right to make jokes about a woman like this one.

      Will looked over at her as he stopped for a red light on MacArthur Road. She’d been quiet for the last ten minutes as they’d been pretty much stop-and-go in mall traffic. “You all right?”

      “Excuse me? Oh. Oh, yes, I’m fine. You’re really being very nice.” She turned to look at him with those soulful brown eyes. “I mean, you aren’t married, you have no children of your own. And yet you’re coaching a baseball team.”

      “Chessie didn’t tell you?”

      “Tell me what?”

      The light turned green, and Will pulled out quickly, knowing he had to get over into the right lane in order to pull into the next mall in a line of malls and other stores that took up a good two miles on both sides of MacArthur Road. “She didn’t tell you that I’m a lawyer. Defense lawyer. One with a big mouth sometimes. And, thanks to Judge Harriette ‘The Hammer’ Barker, who has a fairly perverted sense of humor, it was either she slapped me in the local lockup for repeated contempt of court, or I volunteered to take over as head coach for a new baseball team that needed one. Her grandson’s on the team, you understand. And thinking of that leaves me wondering what she’s got against her grandson.”

      “So … so you didn’t want to coach the team?”

      “Not even in my dreams. But I may be changing my mind.”

      “Because you like teaching seven-year-old boys to play the game?”

      “No, I don’t think I’d go that far. But I do like big brown eyes.”

      Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, maybe something like “Get out of my car, you pig,” unless, if he was lucky, he hadn’t pushed too far, too fast. But, thanks to the twin terrors in the backseat, Will was pretty sure he’d never know.

      “You said I could have a turn. Come on, gimme!”

      “I’m not done yet. I’ve still got one more life left. Hey! Let go of my arm, doofus, I have to get to the safety zone before—”

      Whirrrrrrrrr … splat.

       “Mom!”

      Still with her gaze on Will, Elizabeth put her arm between the seats, reaching into the backseat. “Give. Now.”

      “But Danny did it, Mom. It’s my game.”

      “And now it’s mine. Give.”

      A small red plastic game and equally small set of headphones were swiftly

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