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He wasn’t stupid. He’d been honest with himself, and with her, acknowledging the inconvenient pull he’d felt even before he’d really touched her, and he’d vowed to be sensible, but now he wasn’t so sure he could. Or what he’d do if she proved to be made of sterner stuff than him.
Maggie’s smile faltered as their gazes met when she stepped back from him, but then she pasted it firmly back in place and made a sweeping gesture that took in the four of them in their dinner suits. “Well, you all look pretty good too,” she said lightly. She turned and surveyed the room. “In fact, there’s a whole lot of pretty men in this room. I knew there was a reason I liked baseball.”
Lucas, Mal, and Dan laughed, and Alex made himself join in.
“So you’re not in it for the thrill of the win?” Lucas asked.
Maggie laughed and pivoted back to them, eyes alight. The sound seemed to hit Alex straight in the part of his brain that was exactly the Neanderthal she’d accused him of being, making his desire to throw her over his shoulder and take her somewhere private flare again.
“You do realize you bought the Saints, don’t you?” she said, grinning at Lucas, tone teasing. “The thrill of the win doesn’t come quite as often as a girl might like. So we have to console ourselves with eye candy.”
“What about the guys?” Alex asked. “No eye candy for us.”
“Well, you get beer. And hot dogs. And the joys of whining over everybody’s stats. Of course, you could add eye candy. Go crazy and have a cheer squad.” She snickered as she said it.
“A cheer squad?” Dan looked appalled. “There are no cheerleaders in baseball.”
Maggie laughed again. “It was a joke.”
“It’s not a terrible idea,” Alex said. “The TV guys would love it, that’s for sure.”
“No cheerleaders in baseball,” Dan and Mal said in unison.
Lucas grinned and he patted Alex’s shoulder. “I think you’d have your work cut out convincing people to go along with that idea, A.”
“You could call them the Angels. No. The Fallen Angels,” Alex said, unwilling to let go of the idea completely. He pictured cheerleaders bouncing around with cheesy fake wings. It wouldn’t hurt their attendance numbers, that was for sure.
Maggie rolled her eyes at him. “You can call them whatever you like but it’s a terrible idea. Don’t even think about it. Besides, I thought tonight was a party. And here the four of you are huddled away talking shop.”
“You’re the one who brought up baseball,” Alex protested.
“And now I’m changing the subject. So, boys. What did Santa bring you all for Christmas?”
Ten minutes later, Maggie was waiting for a chance to extricate herself from the conversation—and Alex’s unsettling presence—when she spotted an unexpected face across the room. “What’s Ramona Clarke doing here?”
“Some of the players asked if their agents could come. We thought it was a good way to start getting to know them,” Alex said. “Problem?”
“No. Just some things we usually keep to the family.”
“Well, the family is expanding,” Alex said.
Maggie’s hand tightened around the stem of her glass. “I guess so. I’d better go say hello. Excuse me.” She pivoted on her heel and crossed the room to where Ramona stood talking to Shelly and Hector.
Ramona was dressed in her usual razor-sharp black, her dark hair slicked back from her face and diamonds winking in her ears. Red lips and nails stood out against the smooth brown of her skin. Her satin shoes matched the shade exactly. “Maggie, hi.” She leaned forward, air-kissed Maggie’s cheek. “Long time, no see.”
“Ramona, you look great. Happy New Year.”
Ramona cocked her head. “I guess that remains to be seen. Things are changing round here.”
There it was, the opening shot. Ramona was a brilliant agent but she wasn’t Maggie’s favorite person. And not just because her dad had raised Maggie to view agents as the enemy to a certain degree. Her smile grew fixed. “I’ve always liked change.” She looked at Shelly, hoping her friend could read her mind and introduce a change of subject.
Shelly, thankfully, got the message and asked Ramona where she’d spent Christmas, but Ramona had barely started her tale of a Caribbean vacation when yet another unexpected face joined their group. A face Maggie hadn’t seen in years.
“Maggie, you remember Will, don’t you?” Ramona said.
Will Sutter. Yes, she did. Will was an inch or two shorter than Alex, built along stockier lines—he’d filled out since the last time Maggie had seen him. His pale hair was cut brutally short and his eyes—the same steely blue as his father’s—gave her a quick up and down. She extended her hand before Will could move to kiss her hello. He took it with a smile. And held it just that fraction too long.
Maggie tugged her hand free, her fingers sliding against the heavy gold bands of the rings he wore. They matched the watch on his left wrist.
