From the Heart

She was too aware of Thorpe, too aware of the pulsing needs he had aroused, could arouse, so easily. She saw his hands and was reminded of the rough palms. She saw his arms and remembered there were muscles that could make her feel soft and safe. Liv didn’t want to be soft. It made it too easy to be hurt. She didn’t want to rely on anyone for safety again. It was too easy to be disappointed. She saw his mouth and knew how well it seduced. She told herself that to be seduced was to be weak and vulnerable. His eyes were intelligent, shrewd, saw too much. The more he saw, the greater the risk that he could gain an emotional hold on her.
    She had allowed herself to be involved before. She still bore the scars. For years she had lived on the belief that the only way for her to keep her serenity was by withdrawal. She was coming to realize that Thorpe could change this. For thefirst time, she understood that she was afraid of him—of what he could come to mean to her.
    Friendship, she reminded herself. That was all there was going to be. Just simple friendship. She spent the last two innings convincing herself it was possible.
    “So we won.” Liv checked out the final score on the board. “Five to three.” She rubbed the foul ball between both palms.
    “It’s we now, huh?” Thorpe grinned and tugged on her hair. “I thought you liked Boston.”
    Liv leaned back in her seat and propped her feet on the rail as the crowd began to file out of the stands. “That was before I understood the intricacies of the game. You know, it’s amazing how deceptive television can be. It’s faster, more intense than I thought. Do you come often?”
    He watched as she passed the ball from hand to hand and studied the field. “Are you fishing?”
    “Just a casual question, Thorpe,” she said coolly.
    “Whenever I can,” he answered, still smiling. “I’ll take you to a night game next. It has a whole different feel.”
    “I didn’t say—”
    “T.C.!”
    They both looked up as a man worked his way through the aisles toward them. He was short and stocky, with stone gray hair and a lived-in face. It was lined and pitted, with a square jaw and crooked nose. Thorpe rose to accept a bear hug.
    “Boss, how are you?”
    “Can’t complain, no, can’t complain.” He drew back far enough to study Thorpe’s face. “Good God, you look good, boy.” With a meaty hand, he slapped Thorpe on the back. “Still watch you every night on the TV giving those politicians hell. You always were a sassy young pup.”
    Liv remained seated and watched the exchange in silence. She was fascinated to hear Thorpe referred to as a boy and a young pup. Thorpe was a good half foot taller than the man who grinned up at him.
    “Someone has to keep them straight. Right, Boss?”
    “You bet your—” Boss stopped himself and glanced down at Liv. He cleared his throat. “Gonna introduce me to your lady, or are you afraid I’ll steal her away from you?”
    “Liv, this old schemer is Boss Kawaoski, the best catcher ever to harass an umpire. Boss, Olivia Carmichael.”
    “Why sure!” Liv’s hand was captured in the gnarled, broad one. “The lady on the news. You’re even prettier face to face.”
    “Thank you.” He was beaming at her out of eyes that seemed a trifle myopic.
    “Careful, Liv.” Thorpe slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Boss has a reputation as a lady-killer.”
    “Ah, sh—” He cleared his throat quickly again, and Liv struggled with a grin. “Shoot,” he modified. “Wouldn’t do to have my missus hear you talk that way. What’d you think of the game, T.C. ?”
    “Palmer’s still dishing it out.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “It looks like the Birds have a tight team this year.”
    “Lots of new blood,” Boss added, glancing wistfully out at the field. “The young left fielder has a mean bat.”
    “So did you, Boss.” Thorpe looked back at Liv. “Boss carried a .324 average the year he retired.”
    Not completely certain of the meaning, Liv tried a safer angle. “Did you play for the Orioles, Mr. Kawaoski?”
    “Just Boss, miss. I played for the Senators. That was twenty years ago.” He shook his head at the passage of time. “This one used to hang around the clubhouse making a nuisance of himself.” Jerking a thumb at Thorpe, he grinned. “Wanted to be a third baseman in those days.”
    “Did he?” Liv gave Thorpe a thoughtful look. Somehow, she had never considered him wanting to