“Definitely not.” She sounded extremely amused at the question, so much so that he found himself taking offense. What the hell. He wasn’t a bad boyfriend—when he chose to be a boyfriend, that is, which, granted, he didn’t do a lot. Women liked his wallet but usually not the fact that for seven months out of the year he was pretty much physically and emotionally unavailable.

“His date then,” River guessed.

Another laugh from Holly. “No.”

“You don’t have to sound like it would be so distasteful,” Pace muttered.

“To date you?” She was still smiling. “Really?”

Okay, now he felt downright irritated. “What would be wrong with dating me?”

“I’m not sure we have enough time to cover it all.” And what the hell did that mean? He opened his mouth to ask, but she dropped to her knees next to the boys with utter disregard for her skirt and was oohing and aahing over the gloves. His cell phone rang, distracting him. It was Samantha, the bane of Pace’s existence at the moment. “You didn’t cancel my interview,” he said, stepping away from the gang so he couldn’t be overheard by one nosy reporter and a bunch of even nosier kids.

“I didn’t, no,” Samantha said. “Was I supposed to?”

“Hell, yes.” Behind him he heard Chipper asking Holly if she was a baseball groupie. Jesus. He strained his ears to catch Holly’s response.

“No,” she murmured. “I’m not much of a groupie type.”

“Do you play baseball?”

“Pace?” came Sam’s voice in his ear. “You still there?”

“Yeah. I’m still here.”

“Holly Hutchins is a reporter who’s known for the nitty gritty. The owners want her to do this series to give us some good publicity. She’s supposedly a little uptight and reserved . . .”

Gee, he hadn’t noticed.

“But she’s fair, and very good, so be nice.”

“Uh-huh.” At the moment, Holly didn’t seem quite as uptight and reserved as she had back at the facilities, not with her knees in the dirt, smiling and laughing with the kids, telling River that she’d grown up in a rough neighborhood, where hanging around outside on a field hadn’t been such a good idea, so no, she’d never learned to play baseball.

“Sucks,” Danny said, their shortstop. Which was also his nickname, given that he hadn’t had his seventh-grade growth spurt yet. Or any spurt.

“Pace?” Sam said in his ear.

“I never wanted this interview, Sam. Give it to one of the other guys who’ll love it. Wade, maybe.” Who’d get into Holly’s pants in thirty minutes. “No, wait. Give her to Ty.” Ty didn’t have sex during the season, ever, which made him safe. Though why Pace cared, he had no idea. “He’s been wanting more press now that he’s having a strong year.”