Ben returned the man’s greeting in Spanish. When he glanced down at her, the corners of his mouth pulled up in that playful smile that inevitably made her stomach flip-flop.
“What’s so funny?” She tilted her head in question, eyeing him with uncertainty as she slowed her steps.
Once again Ben followed her lead, coming to a stop.
A woman pushing a baby stroller edged around them, her little one bundled up against the cold. Ben murmured “buenas noches” and received a mutual “good evening” in response.
Once the woman was several feet away, Ben turned his attention back to Julia.
The intensity of his clear blue eyes, focused entirely on her, had the world around them fading to nothing more than a blur. As if only the two of them existed.
“Back at the association’s office,” Ben answered, “when you talked about your ideas and the kids you’ve been working with, excitement dripped from your words. The way you described the decorations, adding the Three Kings to the mix out of respect for your Latino culture, I doubt anyone had trouble visualizing it all.”
“And?” she asked when he trailed off.
“And now that I’m trying to get to know you, I can’t seem to get more than a one- or two-word answer. How come?”
Had Ben’s tone been pushy, or his body language hinted at any amount of wounded ego petulance, she would have easily given him a firm answer meant to ensure he understood she wasn’t interested. She’d done it before with other guys who felt compelled to assert their misguided machismo.
But the honest inquiry in Ben’s slightly furrowed brow and the sincerity evident on his handsome face indicated his genuine interest in her answer.
Maybe the good guy persona was more than a facade for the media and endorsements. Laura Taylor spoke very highly of him, and Julia valued the woman’s opinion.
Suddenly the wind whipped down the street, sending stray leaves and a few empty cans rattling over the cement sidewalk. Julia grabbed the edges of the jacket Ben had draped around her, shivering with cold.
He immediately stepped closer, blocking her from the wind and gently grasping her upper arms. “Why don’t we table the inquiry until we’re seated inside? Gloria’s place is on the next block. I’m thinking your Island blood isn’t used to the Chicago weather yet.”
Once again, his chivalrous nature thawed the chill she had been intent on keeping between them.
“Wait,” she said, covering one of his hands with hers. “I don’t . . . I don’t mean to be rude.”
“You haven’t been. I mean, usually I get people who—”
“Fall over themselves, giddy with awe at spending time with an MLB All-Star, now the network’s new voice, like Carol did?”
The words slipped out before she could stop them, goaded by the remnants of her anger over a local ballplayer from her hometown who had dated one of Julia’s closest friends for years, only to toss her aside when he moved up to the big leagues. Apparently the groupies in every city held more appeal than the commitment he’d made before leaving the Island.
“Carol?” Confusion flit across Ben’s face. It cleared moments before he said, “Oh, the intern.”
Julia nodded, wondering how he’d react to her mini rant. That quick temper her mami always warned her about had chosen an inopportune time to flare.
The last thing she needed was to offend the soiree’s prized emcee thanks to her own personal hang-ups.
“You play hardball, don’t you?” Ben murmured.
His sheepish grin splashed cold water on her heated temper.
Julia closed her eyes on a sigh.
Ay, ay, ay. She’d never been this unprofessional in her life.
Why now? Why with this man?
Bueno, she knew why him. Because despite her promise to herself to never get involved with a ballplayer, this one seemed different. More approachable. Less ego-driven.
Yet, that had to be foolish thinking on her part. She’d seen too many girlfriends burned by a smooth-talking All-Star before. Dios only knew how many times a friend had cried on Julia’s shoulder, brokenhearted over some guy.
“Me, play hardball?” she asked, trying to come up with a way to smooth over her outburst. “Maybe.”
That rakish brow of his arched again, calling her bluff.
“Fiiiine,” Julia said, rolling her eyes on an exaggerated groan.
Ben’s mouth quirked in a grin and she couldn’t help but respond with one of her own.
“I guess you could say that,” she continued. “But here’s the thing.”
She took a step back, making his hands slip from her arms to drop at his sides. So what if she missed his touch. At this point, she couldn’t allow herself to.
Ignoring the chilly breeze that nipped at her, she squared her shoulders, determined to shove any personal feelings to the back, keeping things between them platonic and businesslike.
“Right now, all my energy and focus is on the Holiday Soiree. Ensuring its success. For me, it’s like a one-game playoff. Win or go home. And going home, back to Puerto Rico and my suffocating though well-meaning family, isn’t what I want.” Brushing her windblown hair out of her face, she stared back at him, willing him to understand the utter importance of the situation for her. “I need to knock this out of the park, Ben. I promise, you, Laura Taylor, the association, and especially the kids can count on me to give my best.”
Ben didn’t say anything. His expression remained schooled in that serious game face the television networks had repeatedly zoomed in on when he’d stood on the mound.
She had no idea what he was thinking. Which, she understood, was the point of his game face. Leave the opponent wondering, unsure what to expect.
Dios la ayude if he thought of her as the opponent now. Only, she doubted even God would be able to help her if she’d shot off her mouth and offended the All-Star.
After several gut-clenched-with-worry seconds, Ben gave a quick jerking nod. “I definitely understand a must-win situation. And I’ve been known to hit a home run in
