A crack of the bat echoed, followed by an encouraging shout.

Belatedly, the batter began to run for first as another child went

scurrying to retrieve the ground ball.

"Hi."

"Hi."

She scooted Jake toward the plate.

"You're up next."

Watching Jake take his position at bat, Caitlin glanced at Graham.

"I thought you were on night duty."

The reception was chilly.

He couldn't blame her.

He'd been making a concentrated effort to keep distance between them.

There was no reason to be surprised that he had succeeded.

"I asked Martinez to reassign me."

She looked at him sharply.

"I told him I thought I was missing too much."

He was talking about Jake, she insisted silently, afraid to let herself

think that he meant what she desperately wanted him to mean.

She nodded, just barely acknowledging his words.

He was getting what he deserved.

What he had wanted.

So why did it feel so bad?

Maybe it was because, for a glimmer of a moment, Kane had shown him

what his own life might be like if he was willing to risk the

attempt.

Maybe it was already too late.

He'd pushed her away with both hands, thwarting any and all of her attempts to bridge the gap, to form a bond.

He had told himself that he had been doing it for her.

Maybe it was himself he was doing it for.

Because the thought of happiness, elusive happiness, scared the hell

out of him.

It scared him because he was afraid that if he had it, if he got used to it, he would lose it.

The way he'd once thought he'd lost her.

But not having her while she was so close was even worse.

"Choke up on the bat, Jake," she called.

When Jake looked at her in confusion, she moved behind the boy and showed him what she meant.

She moved his hands farther up on the shank of the bat.

"Like this. Okay?"

"Okay."

Caitlin stepped back, out of range.

She was making his son happy, Graham thought.

What was he doing, throwing all this away without even trying to make it work?

"You're pretty good at this."

Still watching Jake, Caitlin shoved her hands into the back pockets of her white shorts.

Shorts that adhered to her like a second skin, Graham thought, watching

the inviting shift of her hips as she tensed, watching Jake.

"A month ago I didn't know the first thing about playing baseball," she answered.

She glanced at Graham over her shoulder.

"I just did a lot of reading up on the game, called around, talked to

the people 'Who organized coachpitch teams. You know, the usual."

Graham looked at Caitlin.

She'd done a hell of a lot rhore than that.

She had gone ahead and organized baseball teams when Jake had expressed

an interest in playing the game.

Getting a list of his friend's phone numbers from Jake, Caitlin had got

on the telephone and called all the parents, telling them about her idea.

She had invited everyone to join in, or at least to send their

children.

Games were to be played, strictly for fun, two evenings a week and early on Saturdays.

It caught on within a day and now was a regular event.

Jake's team was comprised of seven boys and five girls, all eager for their turn at making the ball fly.

Pitchers and base coaches were parents.

Caitlin, the only woman involved, had been made honorary head coach.

Or head mascot, Graham thought, looking at her.

She had that cuddly look.

Or was that just his longing, slipping out again?

God, but he missed her.

He had only himself to blame.

She could feel Graham's eyes on her and it was unnerving her, turning her to liquid faster than the sun.

"Are you staying?"

If he was, she was going to direct him to sit with the rest of the parents who had come straggling in to watch their offspring play.

"Yeah, I'm staying."

He looked at the handful of fathers on the field.

He might as well make himself useful.

Standing here beside her inhaling her fragrance was making him a little