Free From Left Field: A Hot Baseball Romance (Diamond Brides Book 7) by Mindy Klasky Page B

all.
    She’d expected more from him. He was an athlete, after all. He listened well enough to his coach telling him how to slide into second, how to adjust his throw so he could hit the cut-off man every time. But no matter how often she shifted Adam’s hand on her waist, no matter how many times she folded her fingers around his, he just couldn’t get the feel of a waltz.
    Michael, on the other hand, was a natural. He guided her onto the crowded hardwood floor, dropping into the easy one-two-three of the dance without any visible thought. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said.
    “Why? Adam’s a friend. It’s only neighborly to show up at his fundraiser.”
    Michael snorted. “What is it with you two and neighborly? Neighborly is buying a Christmas wreath from a Boy Scout—not underwriting his effort to buy the Reeves farm out from under you.”
    “Right. Like any check I could write would make a big difference to him now.”
    A vertical line cut into the space between Michael’s eyebrows. “I don’t know, Haley. From the stuff that’s coming out in the paper, he’s in bad financial shape.”
    “Bad shape for a millionaire is different than bad shape for you and me. He owns his house outright, so he won’t be out on the street any time soon.”
    She felt Michael’s tiny shrug through her fingertips on his shoulder. “I’m just saying it looks strange. The two of you are fighting over that piece of land but you’re here to support him, all dressed up like a fish out of water.”
    “B minus for the mixed metaphor, brother dearest,” Haley said, but she had to consider the truth of his words. Why was she at the gala?
    Because Adam asked her to come . There it was again—that stupid, swooping feeling, hollowing out the pit of her stomach like she was looking over the edge of a twenty-story building.
    When Adam had invited her, she’d heard something in his voice, a tightness, a need . The guy was going through hell with his manager. And even though she was pissed that he’d interfered with her plans for the farm, she knew how dedicated he was to the Foundation. He truly wanted to help those kids. He wanted to make a difference—now and long after his playing years were over. She had to help.
    Michael pulled her into a tight turn. “I just don’t want you getting hurt, Haley.”
    She smiled into his concerned eyes. “I won’t,” she said. “I’m not a little kid any more, waiting for my big brother to rescue me on the playground.”
    “Did I ever do that?” Michael asked.
    “Huh,” Haley said. “I guess not. You and Billy just toughened me up at home so I could stand on my own two feet. Thanks, I guess.”
    He grinned. “You know, you could show your eternal gratitude by weekly deliveries of Triple Chocolate Brownies from now till the end of time.”
    “Fat chance of that,” she said. “I served my time.”
    “With nothing off for good behavior.”
    She was just shifting her hand to punch him on the arm—hard—when she saw Adam on the dance floor.
    Adam, dancing with Missy Newton. Adam, a full head taller than the doll-like Missy, even though she wore spiky stilt-like sandals. Adam, looking like a movie star with his tux framing the perfect folds of Missy’s crimson, floor-length gown.
    He was still a lousy dancer. But he looked down into Missy’s eyes, and he smiled at whatever she said, laughing as he pulled her close before he attempted an awkward little whirl at the edge of the hardwood. Missy threw back her head like she was having the time of her life. Adam pulled her even closer, barely keeping the timing right, just maintaining the rhythm.
    And then he caught sight of Haley, and he nodded, flashing her the roguish smile she’d known her entire life. “Shit,” she whispered to Michael, and then she bit her lower lip, remembering too late that she’d smear her lipstick.
    Adam swept up with Missy in his arms. He jutted his chin toward Michael in a casual greeting, and