Page 41 of Angel In Armani

But Sara wasn’t likely to understand anything they had to say, so she didn’t bother trying to make out what they were talking about.

Instead she turned her attention to the group of men standing on the field, listening to what another man in a Saints jersey was telling them.

They all wore Saints uniforms that were blindingly white and new looking, so they were probably the ones trying out.

From what she’d read and what Lucas had told her, that was what spring training seemed to be about. Trying out new players, getting the team gelled before the season proper started in April.

The guys in the new uniforms varied in age, a couple of them looking painfully young still—all legs and arms and potential.

About eighteen or nineteen, she thought. She’d seen enough fresh-from-basic-training young recruits in her army days to know a lanky not quite a man when she saw one.

It seemed pretty young to her to be trying out for something as big as professional ball.

Then again, she’d started working toward her commercial license at sixteen, so who was she to judge?

Two of the younger guys were bouncing on their toes, swinging their arms, while listening to whatever they were being told. The third, the one with the very short dark hair and broad shoulders he hadn’t quite grown into, hung back. She saw him swallow a few times, and her stomach tightened in sympathy.

Poor kid.

She watched him a little while longer, saw him adjust his cap a few times then swallow again. Was he going to barf?

For his sake, she hoped not. If a baseball team was anything like an army platoon, then he’d never hear the last of it if he did.

She turned her attention to the others in the group as the guy who was talking to them finished and they all peeled off and headed in different directions across the field. The nervous guy and his two youngest buddies stayed near the fence.

The guy in the jersey walked over to Dan and Lucas. The three of them conferred.

“You’re new,” a voice beside her said.

She looked up. A tall guy with dark curly hair and a killer smile was standing at the end of her row. He wore a Saints uniform but it wasn’t as painfully new as the ones on the guys trying out. He had a cap and a baseball glove in one hand and a smartphone in the other. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. The expensive weirdly shaped kind.

His smile widened when their eyes met and he moved down the row toward her. “Ollie Shields,” he said, dropping down beside her. “And you are?”

“Sara Charles.”

“Definitely new. I haven’t heard of you. Remind me to chastise the grapevine.” He frowned down at his smartphone as though blaming it for his lack of information.

“What makes you think the grapevine should have heard of me?” she said. She studied him warily. He seemed to think she should have heard of him, but she hadn’t gotten as far as studying the actual Saints players in her research. She’d wanted the basics, not the details.

But whoever Ollie Shields was, he was not hard on the eyes. Tall, olive-skinned, in great shape. About her age. Maybe a little older.

“This place is one big barrel of testosterone,” Ollie said. “Trust me, when a new female walks through the gates, we hear about it.”

That was something she was familiar with, too. Being a female in a sea of men. “Well, I got here kind of late last night. Maybe your grapevine was asleep.”

“Like I said, chastisement will be delivered. So, what brings you to Florida, Sara Charles, and can I convince you to stay awhile?”

His cheerful assuredness made her smile “Confident thing, aren’t you?”

He grinned. She had to admit it was a pretty cute grin. Not as good as Lucas’s, though.

“Just getting in early before the masses.”

She relaxed a little. He was flirting but it wasn’t serious. It was just cocky guy banter. Another thing she’d learned about in the army. The key to cocky guy banter was to banter right back. “And here I thought you’d been struck by lightning at the sight of me.”

“Who says I haven’t?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Somehow I get the feeling you’re not the struck-by-lightning type.”

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