Lady of the Lake

Three

Violet didn’t have a sense of humor. It was yet another thing that separated her from the masses and made her feel like a misfit. The first was that she didn’t really like sex, and stood around puzzled a lot of times when her friends talked about it, their eyes rolling back in their heads.

If her eyes were rolling back, chances were she was having a seizure and 911 should be called.

She felt capable of a convulsion right now, because she, Violet Caruthers, kindergarten teacher and the epitome of the social wallflower, was trapped on a sailboat with a gorgeous professional baseball player.

It would have been smarter to die wearing the bikini.

“What do you do, Vi?”

No one called her Vi. It made her sound like a fifties film star, which wasn’t a good fit. She wouldn’t know sassy and sultry if it bit her on the butt.

She chanced a look at Dylan. She wasn’t a rabid baseball fan, but she went to several games a season and caught a few on TV. She remembered seeing him at bat, noticing him precisely because he was so good-looking. It wasn’t a stretch to picture him wearing a tight uniform and dropping down into that catcher squat, his face confident and serious.

This couldn’t possibly be happening to her. “I’m a kindergarten teacher.”

He untwisted the top of the water bottle and handed it to her. “Really? Now, that’s a worthwhile profession. I bet you’re great at it.”

“I enjoy my job.” She took a sip of the water because it seemed rude not to, and she was really hot. The sun was heating her skin from the inside out. Which didn’t make sense, because five minutes ago she’d been shivering.

“I like my job, too.” He studied the horizon.

“Then I guess we’re both lucky.”

The easy grin covered his face again. “Yeah, I guess so. Though I don’t think luck has a whole lot to do with it. People make choices.”

“That’s true.” She had made a choice to have a baby, without a husband, because she wanted a child that desperately. And she was practical enough to know that when you went on a date every three years, the probability of meeting Mr. Right was very small.

The sperm bank hadn’t appealed to her because of the element of the unknown, but after this fiasco with Frank, she was starting to think that might be her only option.

She searched for something to say. “So, how long have you been with the Indians?”

“Three years. It’s a good club.” Dylan tipped his bottle back and forth, back and forth. “So how many kids are in your class? Do you have an apple with your name on it?”

Violet gave a nervous laugh. What a geek she must seem like to a pro athlete. “No apple. Lots of ‘Best Teacher’ mugs, though. And I have twenty students each year.”

“How have you been spending your summer break?”

Conceiving a baby. “Relaxing. Reading. Working in my garden.”

Which suddenly sounded very lame and tame.

Dylan tilted his head. “Sounds nice. Normal. Does Frank live with you?”

“No.” Violet picked at the T-shirt and sighed. “If I can borrow your phone again, I’ll call my friends and see if someone can come meet me at the dock.” So she didn’t have to spend one more second than was necessary with Dylan Diaz, catcher for the Cleveland Indians. Her company must be close to putting him in a coma.

He hesitated, but then handed the phone to her. “There’s no hurry, you know.”

Yes, there was.

In rapid succession, Violet got the voice mail for Kindra, Ashley, and Trish. Damn it. None of them were home, and she couldn’t remember any of their cell phone numbers. She had those programmed into her own phone, which was sitting in her purse on Frank’s fishing boat. She didn’t know what she could possibly say in a message so she just hung up.

“No one home?” Dylan asked.

She shook her head. Her friends all had social lives, darn them. They should all be losers like her.

“No big deal. I can take you home.”

Ye-ah. Like he had nothing better to do. Geez, how humiliating. “Oh, that’s okay. I can call a taxi or take the bus or something.” She had no idea how to take the bus from downtown to Westlake. Not a clue. But she’d rather walk than force a gorgeous millionaire to baby-sit her.

Dylan let go of the whatever sailors hold and moved towards her. “I’m not letting you take the bus home. First of all, my mother would fly up from Miami and beat the hell out of me. Second, I want to spend more time with you.”

“Why?” she asked stupidly, thinking she must have flooded some brain cells during her soak in the lake. What he was saying didn’t make sense.

“Because I want to get to know you better.”

“Why?” To underscore how truly thrilling his life was compared to hers?

But he just picked at the paper label on his water bottle. “It’s my birthday today, you know.”

“It is?”

He nodded. “Twenty-seven today.”

“Well, happy birthday, then. I’m so, so sorry I ruined your birthday by almost drowning.” Could she be any more mortified? Maybe she could vomit on him while she was at it.

But Dylan laughed. “You weren’t interrupting anything. I was just out sailing by myself.”

Now that he mentioned it, he was alone. “Are you having a party later with your friends? I’ll definitely take a cab then.”

“No party. My family all called me this morning. That’s the extent of the celebrating.”

He didn’t sound happy and that made Violet forget that he was a baseball player, that he was gorgeous, that she was a geek. She moved just a little closer to him. “Don’t you like birthdays?”

“Sure. But I don’t have anyone to spend it with this year. It’s a little tough to make friends when you’re on the road all the time.”

“And then I landed in your lap.” Literally. “Not exactly what you wished for, I’m sure.”

He set his water down and locked eyes with her. He was smiling, a smile she didn’t really understand. “Actually, I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to me today.”

“That’s not saying much for your day.”

“I was having a very unexciting day until you floated along.” Dylan touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “But I’m thinking you’re a damn good birthday surprise.”

“But…”

“I’m attracted to you, can’t you tell?”

Violet was tempted to glance around the boat to make sure she hadn’t missed a gorgeous blonde hiding behind a sail. “I hadn’t noticed that, no.”

His eyes narrowed, got darker. Hotter. “Do you find me at all attractive?”

She could only stare. Was he absolutely joking? Of course she did. A woman in her nineties with cataracts would find him attractive. She was so amazed, she didn’t hesitate to answer. “Well, sure, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Because it was like staring through the window at a two-thousand-dollar dress. You could want it, but it could never be yours. Maybe he did find her mildly attractive because she was sitting right in front of him and he liked women, in whatever form they took. Maybe he saw her as just another easy conquest, a little Friday night fun. A staid boring woman, easy to manipulate. And maybe she was all of those things.

Maybe he was drunk.

But somehow she didn’t believe any of that was true. Dylan seemed, well, almost lonely. But none of that was important because she wasn’t the kind of woman men sought out when they wanted company. “Because it just doesn’t matter. So…your family is in Miami?”

That wolfish smile was still in place, but he leaned back from her, resting on his elbows. “Yep. Mom, Dad, three sisters, all married, and five nieces, two nephews last count.”

“Do you have a house there?” One that hopefully he would be going to in, oh, an hour or so. So she would never have to see him again.

Not that she would. They’d dock this boat and she’d scurry away like the mouse that she was.

And the one chance for a little excitement in her life would be gone.

The thought made her sit up straighter. She had never desired excitement. She liked her life. She did. She was happy and well-adjusted. And come Monday, she was going to shop the sperm bank and have a child.

But wouldn’t it be fun, just once, to think that she, Violet Caruthers, had been desired by a hottie?

Even if that hottie had baked his brains in the sun too long to want her when he could have half the women in the 216 area code.

Maybe he’d already had half the women in town and now he was moving to the bottom dregs. Maybe she shouldn’t care why he was interested, but she should just enjoy it. Keep her head square on her shoulders and just take pleasure in his company, attention, flirtation.

“No, I stay with my parents when I’m down there. I got them a really nice six-bedroom house. And I have the apartment here, but the furniture came with the place. It’s like living in a hotel. I was actually thinking I should buy my own place in Miami, but it always seems like such a waste for a single guy who’s only there half the year.”

He looked a little wistful when he spoke, and Violet realized the downside to his career. He must feel uprooted all the time, living on the road out of a suitcase. “Have you ever been married?”

Not that it was any of her damn business, but the sun must have baked her brains, too. She actually liked him. He seemed, well, normal. Needy. Like one of her students who just needed a hug. Of course, Dylan was also phenomenally gorgeous and wealthy, but she wouldn’t think about that or she’d scare herself again.

“Nope. How about you, Vi? You look like the marrying kind.” He winked.

That didn’t sound like a compliment. “No, I’ve never been married. But Frank would get married if I wanted to.” He would. He was a genius, after all. He knew a good deal when he saw one, and she was Frank’s dream wife. She was quiet, did his laundry, didn’t nag him about his friends or hobbies or the late hours he kept, and would never cheat on him. So they didn’t burn up the bedroom together. Frank still got what he needed.

Violet sighed. She must be hopelessly romantic, because she really just couldn’t bring herself to commit to a lifetime with Frank or to a similar arrangement with another man.

Dylan sat back up and scoffed, all amusement gone from his face. “You wouldn’t marry that guy, would you? He’d probably forget to pick you up for the wedding.”

For some reason, she laughed. It shouldn’t have been funny, yet it was. The image of herself standing in white satin outside her front door for two, three hours while Frank lost himself in some computer software was so heinous it was amusing. Frank would be up to his eyeballs in dirty ashtrays and empty soft drink cans, that strange gleam in his eye when he was working. He would never turn that obsessive focus onto her, and she would always be an afterthought.

Not that it mattered.

“I don’t want to marry Frank. I never did. But he’s a nice guy, decent company, and…I had something I wanted from him. I’m not as innocent as I sound here. In a way, I’ve been using Frank.” Shameful, but true. She’d had her eye on the prize since the first time she’d had dinner with him.

“Well, that sounds devious. I’m seeing a whole new side of you, Vi. What were you using him for?”

The breeze ruffled her still wet hair, and she turned her face to catch the full effect of it. It felt a little like she’d fallen off the face of the earth. They couldn’t see the shore, just a hazy line in the distance, and in the other direction was a vague promise of Canada somewhere beyond the horizon. The rock of the boat was soothing, the water calm, the sun warm as it made its way towards the west.

It felt like none of what was happening was real and that she could say anything. She could tell this stranger what she wasn’t even willing to admit to her girlfriends. That she wasn’t all good and sweet and considerate. Her actions with Frank had been manipulative, and falling into the water was really no more than she deserved. “Is there something you want in life so bad you can taste it? Have you ever felt that sort of desperate urgency?”

“I felt that way about baseball.”

“So are you content, then? Have everything you want now?”

Violet turned in time to see his head moving slowly back and forth. “No, I’m good, but something is missing…and I can’t figure out what it is. I feel restless. I feel like everyone I meet wants something from me.”

“They probably do.”

He gave a snort. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Well, it’s probably true. You must be in demand.”

“The problem is, people want to use me. No one wants me. That’s why I don’t date anymore. I can’t trust that a woman wants me for me, as corny as that is.”

Violet nodded. For all his money and fame, Dylan was lonely. Isolated. It almost made sense, then, why he would find her attractive. It had been a while since he’d dated, and she was not the aggressive, pursuing type. The discomfort she’d been feeling, the nervousness, dissipated. “And if you don’t trust someone, there really can’t be a relationship, can there?”

“Nope. I do have my game, which I love to play. But I can’t help thinking that there are more important things in life. What do you want, Violet? Or do you already have it?”

Her want was definitely unfulfilled. It even hurt to say it out loud, so deeply did she want to be a mother. “The thing I want is a baby.”

Dylan wasn’t sure what he’d thought she was going to say, but she had looked so fervent that he’d been getting a little nervous. But hell, a baby? That seemed damn innocent after some of the wild scenarios that had run through his head.

“So…you wanted to have a baby with Frank?” Dylan couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over her body. She had her feet tucked under her legs and the shirt pulled down to her knees, but he knew there were some luscious curves under there. He could picture her pregnant, no problemo, and the thought had him uncomfortable in his shorts again.

He’d never looked at a pregnant woman and felt the urge to do her, but it was running through his mind with Violet. Apparently he wanted to do her any old way he could-front, back, clothes, naked, standing up, lying down, right here on this boat. He really was a sick bastard. She was talking about serious stuff, and he was thinking up ways to get her out of that T-shirt. He almost expected his mother’s hand to pop out of thin air and cuff the back of his head.

But he liked the way Violet spoke, and the way she looked at him. Like he was…sweet. It had been high school since a girl had just looked at him and liked him.

“I wanted Frank to get me pregnant. Then leave, while I raised the child by myself.”

“Whoa.” He squinted a little as the sun broke through the clouds and hit him in the eyes. “So, did Frank know about this? He was cool with it?” Personally, he couldn’t imagine getting a woman pregnant and walking away. But then again, if a woman he cared about, who would make a great mother, asked him for a little, uh, donation, would he be able to say no?

The whole idea of leaving a woman to raise a child alone just didn’t seem right to him, even if that’s what she wanted. And the only women he was close to were his sisters anyway, and he’d share a lot with them-money, a kidney-but he wasn’t going to go there with sperm. Of course, if they had a surrogate mother and wanted to use his DNA to keep it in the family…What the hell was he thinking? His sisters had seven kids between them. Fertility had not been an issue up to this point.

“I was going to talk to Frank about it tonight, but his friends came along-uninvited.”

Was that relief he felt? “Why not a sperm bank? It could get messy if Frank changed his mind after the fact.”

She smiled. “He wouldn’t change his mind. Trust me, he has nothing against children but he has no desire to raise any. And I didn’t want a sperm bank because I was afraid that it was risky. You don’t really know what you’re getting.” Then she shrugged. “But while I was out there treading water, it occurred to me that when you adopt a child, you usually don’t know a whole lot of anything, and I haven’t heard any adoptive parents complain. And sometimes, even when a couple is married, they don’t really know everything about the other person. A reputable sperm bank is quite safe. They screen sociopaths and other mental impairments, so I won’t be getting a serial killer’s sperm. It will be fine, and I’ll finally get what I want-a baby.”

It all seemed logical to Dylan. But something about it still bothered him. This woman having a total stranger’s baby rubbed him wrong. “How old are you? How do you know you won’t get married in a few years?”

“I’m twenty-eight. If I got pregnant today I’d be twenty-nine when the baby is born. I know that’s not old at all, but what if I have fertility problems? A miscarriage? What if I want a second child? I don’t want to wait too long and find out it’s too late. I want to be a mother.” She looked at him, serious and soft-spoken. “More than anything.”

“Well…” Christ, what was he supposed to say? “Good luck.” Brilliant, Diaz, just brilliant.

Violet gave a small laugh, one that did all kinds of things to his guts. He felt like he did after he ran hard laps on a really hot day-sort of light-headed and sick to his stomach.

Because for a single, stupid second there, he had thought about offering himself in place of the anonymous test tube turkey baster daddy.

Which was insane.

God, he’d lost his mind.

He wanted to have sex with her, not a child.

Good thing he’d kept his mouth zipped. And to prevent further possibility of blurting dumb-ass things out loud, maybe he should distract himself.

By kissing her.