Page 43 of Angel In Armani

“If they can’t perform with just the coaching staff yelling at them, how are they going to do with thousands of fans screaming at them?” He sounded unsympathetic. “Better to know now if they’re going to crack at under pressure. This is the big league. Literally.”

“I guess.”

“If you want something, you’ve gotta go after it, no matter how nervous you might be. Feel the fear and do it anyway or whatever that shit is.”

“Deep.”

He laughed. “Baseball philosopher, that’s me.” Then he straightened as the coach turned in their direction and jerked a thumb toward the field. “That’s my cue,” he said, standing. “Don’t go falling in love with anybody else while I’m down there.” He grinned one last time, hitting her with full-out ridiculous charm, and waggled dark brows at her.

“I’ll do my best,” Sara said, but even as she spoke the words she felt her gaze drift toward Lucas. It wasn’t Ollie Shields’s ridiculous charms she had to worry about.

Chapter Ten

After Ollie left, Sara turned her attention back to what was happening on the field. If she didn’t have anything else useful to do—and that was a pretty weird feeling, not having something urgent to do—she might as well watch and see if she could make any sense of what was going on.

The players broke off into groups and, once again, the three younger guys stayed closest to where she was sitting. Lucas and Dan Ellis stayed right by the fence, too. Ollie and another player—a tall black guy who’d walked past her swinging a gleaming silver bat idly in one hand—stood beside them.

Sara shifted a few seats over so she could see past the group of men, feeling herself tense in sympathy as the young guys headed over to a batting cage and started stretching and jogging in place, nerves written all over them.

Once again, her gaze was caught by the one with the short dark hair. He was lanky but he still moved fluidly, hints of grace peeking from beneath the lingering adolescent gangliness. Once he filled out he would be no one to mess with.

The guy with the bat and Ollie strolled over to the three young pitchers with the other coach. Ollie jogged on past and took up position out on the field a fair way from the cage. When he was in position, the batter walked into the cage.

The first of the young guys picked up a ball from the pile of them sitting outside the cage and walked out to the pitcher’s mound.

Sara could feel every step he took, her heart pounding in sympathy.

She held her breath as he took his first pitch. And winced when the batter connected solidly and the ball went flying past to where Ollie stood.

Ollie scooped it up easily and sent it back to the pitcher, yelling something that Sara thought was, “C’mon, rook. Get it together.”

Not helpful.

The second pitcher was better, she thought, the kid not looking so nervous. He had curly dishwater-brown hair and a solid build and even managed a flash of a nervous amazed grin before he took his shot. But he, too, got his pitches smashed solidly by the batter.

And then the third—the short-haired guy—managed to get in a ball that the batter didn’t connect with. He smiled as he straightened, teeth flashing white against his olive skin, but then his face turned serious again as his second attempt suffered the same fate as his friends’. This time, the coach beckoned and the kid came back to where the others stood.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lucas start to walk out on the field. She realized, as he walked, that this was the first time she’d seen him wearing something other than a suit. The something being very dark jeans and very expensive-looking sneakers with a navy polo shirt that had a white Saints logo on the back.

The jeans showed off his butt very nicely as he walked and she made herself turn her gaze onto the three baby pitchers instead, who all looked even more nervous as they watched Lucas—their potential boss—coming toward them.

That, she really could sympathize with.

To her surprise, when Lucas reached the three of them, he bent and picked up one of the balls, tossing it idly in his hand as he said something to the rookies.

He spoke to them for a minute or two then demonstrated a pitch, his body moving through the motion as easily as any of the players she’d seen today. He didn’t let go of the ball at the end of the movement, though, keeping it in his hand before he did the move again, the actions so strong and sure that she knew he must have done it hundreds of times.

Had he played baseball? And if so, how seriously?

Interesting. Obviously she needed to do a bit more research on the man.

Or just ask him.

No. That was too personal. There was going to be no personal between her and Lucas. All business, all the time, and nothing more. Awesome butt or not, he was not for her.

Except he didn’t seem to realize that. As he returned to the fence line, he stopped to say something to Dan and then came and sat next to Sara.

“What do you think?” he asked.

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