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then traced her lower lip with his thumb. “You’re a quality lady.”

The affirmation warmed her to the core, heated her skin with a blush that threatened to overwhelm her. This was a side of Drew that she’d never seen, that probably few people had seen.

He had a huge heart. For the first time, she realized that even a big man could feel vulnerable. Fear rejection. Want to walk away from pain rather than face it.

“I gotta go,” he said, and took the keys from his pocket.

She watched him pull away, her heart swelling with a feeling she’d thought was long since dead. She’d known from day one that she had lust for Drew Tolman. No doubting that. But now something else flickered to life. She hated to even acknowledge it.

So she didn’t.

Caroline Taylor had never contacted Drew demanding child support or recognition for Mackenzie. Over the years, as Drew rode the elevator higher into the majors, she could have cleaned him out for some serious cash. A court would have made him take a paternity test, but she hadn’t been like that.

When she told him she was pregnant, she’d knocked the hell out of his curve ball. She deserved a whole lot better from him, but the past was the past and he couldn’t change what had happened.

In those days, he’d spent half his time in the bar and half his time on the ball field. After too many drinks, he reasoned that even if Mackenzie was his daughter, she’d be better off without him.

But deep down in his core, the center of his soul, he’d known the truth from the very day Caroline had called to tell him she’d missed her period and the test strip confirmed her suspicion. He would always remember the tone of her voice, that helpless quiver to her words.

Even to this day, recalling it made a stab of conscience and self-loathing spear his heart. Caroline wasn’t a liar. That’s why he never threw any of Mackenzie’s pictures away and hadn’t been fully able to talk himself out of having a daughter.

To Caroline’s credit, she’d done an amazing job. Who Mackenzie was today, even the little rebellious streak in her, she owed to her mother. With all Mackenzie had been through, it was a wonder she stood tall and strong. Losing a mother, and even a stepfather, only to find out your real father denied you—nobody should have to deal with that.

All Drew could do was thank God he’d had the opportunity to make things right with Caroline before she passed. When he’d started sending her money, she’d accepted it, but they hadn’t discussed their heated conversation so many years ago before Mackenzie was born. That night Caroline had told him and he didn’t own up, she’d left him without a backward glance.

It wasn’t until two years ago that Drew flew to Florida, and he and Caroline met in private. They finally cleared the air about what had happened. She was a saint, never once raising her voice at him. The only time he’d ever seen her lose her temper was the time she’d told him to get off her porch.

Drew pulled into his driveway, got out of the Hummer and headed toward the front door. The rapid-fire pop of the Iron Mike spitting out baseballs pulled his attention. He changed direction, and at the side of the house he saw Mackenzie inside the cage, helmet on, taking some swings. Holding back, he watched.

She had a perfect stance, a good pivot on the balls of her feet. She held the bat at the right angle, took a swing and made contact. The ball flew into the cage with a metallic ring. Her smile was one of pure satisfaction.

Pride surged through Drew, his pleasure intense. Seeing her determination, the way she held herself with an effortless grace and speed, reminded him of himself way back when.

Readying for the next pitch, she kept her form steady. A ball sailed toward her and she sliced the air, chasing after leather and hitting it hard. If she had been in a Little League field, that one would have been a home run.

He went to her, stood outside the cage with his fingers curled in the chain link. “You sure can hit a baseball.”

Without making eye contact with him, she replied, “I can do a lot of things you don’t know about.”

She missed the next ball, her concentration broken. Another pitch came and she threw her whole upper body into it, fouling the ball away.

“Mackenzie. I want to talk to you.” When she didn’t acknowledge him, his confidence faltered and a natural reaction was to build up his defenses. He wasn’t sure if he had what it took to make things right with her.

“It’s a free country.”

Drew went to open the latch on the batter’s gate. “Let’s turn this thing off. You’re liable to get hit on the head.”

“I can hit a baseball and listen to you at the same time,” she challenged, taking a swing and this time ripping one hard.

“But I’d feel better—”

“I’m sure you would. It’s always about what makes you feel better, isn’t it?”

“That’s not the truth and I think you know it.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Sweat dampened her brows. The golden tan on her cheeks was enhanced with blush. A mottled line of perspiration showed on the back of her sand-colored tank top. She had on white shorts and white tennis shoes. She wore his wrist guards. When she gritted her teeth to take a bite out of the air, slicing a chopper, she looked just like him.

It sort of freaked him out, put a dip in his blood pressure. But not in a way that made him want to run. He wanted to hug her in the worst way.

“Mackenzie,” he said, his voice scratchy. He cleared his throat so she could hear him over the noise. “I know I’ve been a shit to you for most of your life.”

“You were a shit to my

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