Pace was watching her carefully, slipping back into his shirt, which was really a shame.
“What’s my name?” he asked her.
“Hot Arrogant Baseball Stud?”
He blinked.
“Sorry. I think the hit loosened my tongue. But I’m fine,” she said quickly when she saw the boys’ horrified reaction. “Really.”
“Good, cuz it’d have sucked to kill Pace’s girlfriend,” River said with huge relief.
“I’m not his girl”—but they’d all begun to move off, spreading out into the field with their new gloves—“friend.” She absently rubbed her butt, realizing that hurt, too.
“Need a hand with that?”
She glanced up as Pace smiled. And it was the oddest thing. The good humor changed his face, making him look like one of the kids, both younger and far more carefree than she’d seen him except in pictures. His eyes sparkled, fine lines fanning out from the outer corners. His mouth was curved, and even though he was having fun at her expense, she felt her own smile reluctantly tug at her mouth as they stared at each other for several long beats.
“Hot Arrogant Baseball Stud?” he repeated softly.
“Are you objecting to hot or stud?”
“Arrogant, actually.”
Okay, so he had a quick wit and a sense of humor to go with those looks and, she guessed, more than the average smarts. And in spite of her best efforts to remain immune, she felt drawn to him.
Which was not good.
Not good at all.
They were still standing practically hip to hip. In fact, he was still supporting her, gaze still locked on hers. His smile slowly faded.
And so did hers.
Her heart gave a good hard leap against her ribs because suddenly she felt . . . hot. Very hot. A heavy beat passed, and then another, each filled with . . . well, she wasn’t quite sure what.
Okay, that was a lie.
She knew exactly what. Anticipation. And a reluctant attraction. And enough heat to have her palms going damp, which was odd because the mountain peaks were shading them and there was the nicest sea breeze brushing through the trees, through her hair, brushing her face and her aching head.
“I’ve got to go,” he said quietly. “I really do have somewhere else I’m supposed to be.”
“It’s okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Then maybe you could stand on your own?”
“Oh!” Oh good God. She was leaning all over him. She rectified that by pulling free and backing up a few steps. Turning, she eyed the kids, thinking maybe she’d stay and hang out for a few minutes, chat with them some more. Sometimes her best stuff came from unexpected sources. Besides, it might be a nice human touch to her article on Pace . . . But damn, she was dizzy. Yeah, she was just going to sit for a minute, right here, right in the grass—
With a low oath, Pace immediately crouched at her side, brushing the hair from her face to look into her eyes. “Holly.”
“I’m good.”
He let out a rough breath. “You’re such a liar.”
“Hey.” She blinked her vision clear. Sort of. Dammit. “I never lie.”
“Everyone lies.”
“Not me.”
His gaze turned speculative. “So if I asked you, say, what you really thought of me, you’d say . . .”
“That you’re a little full of yourself, but you do have more redeeming qualities than I’d counted on. Such as being nice to stupid reporters who catch with their foreheads.”
He arched a brow. “An honest woman. Imagine that.”
“You look so surprised.”
“I am.”
“Then you’re hanging out with the wrong women.”
“That’s undoubtedly quite true.” Still looking at her very closely, he shook his head. “I can’t leave you here.”
“Sure you can.” She managed a smile. “I’m just going to sit here in the sun and write up some notes. It’s a gorgeous day. And I’m not dizzy at all. At least not now as much as I was.”
“Okay, that’s it. Come on.” He pulled her upright with him, keeping his hands on her when she wasn’t quite steady on her feet. “I know you had your heart set on grilling the kids, but I can’t let you do that.”
“Why, what do they know?”
“Holly.”
“Just kidding, I wouldn’t do that.”
“No?”
She grimaced guiltily. “Not grill, precisely. But maybe speak gently with . . .”
He looked into her eyes. Then his gaze dropped, slowly taking in the rest of her features, and when he got to her mouth, she felt another of those odd flutters low in her belly. He didn’t step back, he didn’t step away. Nope, he stayed right in her personal space, which normally would have bugged the hell out of her, but she didn’t feel bugged so much as . . .
Jittery.
It was the bump on the head. It had to be.
“I can see those wheels turning, Holly.”
“I’m just thinking that maybe you’re not quite the jerk you want me to believe.”
“Yes, I am,” he said. “A big jerk. An ass**le.”
“You run from stalkers rather than call the police. You play baseball with kids and bring them new gear. You help stupid reporters who catch with their foreheads. There’s a soft side to you, Pace Martin.”