'I figure forty-three, forty-four.'
'I'm thirty-seven,' she snapped.
'No,
'Then why did you ask?'
'I wanted to see if you give yourself away when you lie.' Amusement danced in his pale eyes. 'Now I know.'
She resisted taking the bait. 'Is this date over yet?'
'Just getting started. I think we should wait till after we play to eat, don't you?'
'Play?'
He jerked his head toward the volleyball court. 'We've got a game in forty minutes.'
'Oh, right. And that would be just after I walk out, right?'
'I already signed us up. You have to play.'
'Wrongo.'
'I should have told you to bring shorts.'
'You probably had too many other weighty matters on your mind.'
He smiled. 'You are one beautiful bitch.'
'Thank you.'
His smile grew broader, and her skin prickled. Once again, she considered the possibility that he wasn't as dumb as he seemed to be.
'Definitely a ballbuster,' he said. 'This is my lucky day.' She flinched as he reached toward her, but when he touched the base of her throat with the tip of his finger, a tiny shock zipped along her skin. 'You and me are going to be great together… as long as I keep that dog collar snapped good and tight around your neck.'
Another jolt zapped her nerve endings, and she jerked away. Fortunately, three of the men who'd been hanging out at the bar chose that moment to approach. They were all young and respectful. Bodie introduced her, but they were only interested in him. She learned he'd played pro football, and as the men talked sports, she experienced the unusual, and not unwelcome, feeling of being invisible. She let herself relax a little. When the youngsters drifted away, however, she knew it was time to take control. 'Tell me about yourself, Bodie. Where are you from?'
He studied her, almost as if he were making up his mind how much he wanted to reveal. 'A dot on the map in southern Illinois.'
'Small-town boy.'
'You might say. I grew up in a trailer park, the only kid in the place.' He took a sip of beer. 'My bedroom looked out over a junkyard.'
His rough background was written all over him, so she wasn't surprised. 'What about your parents?'
'My mother died when I was four, and my father was a good-looking drunk who had a way with the ladies. Believe me, there were a lot of them around while I was growing up.'
It was all so sordid that Portia wished she hadn't asked. She thought of her ex-husband, with his impeccable pedigree, of the dozens of other men she'd dated over the years, some of them self-made, but all polished and well mannered. Yet here she was in a sports bar with a man who looked like he made his living stuffing dead bodies in car trunks. One more sign that her life was veering away from her.
Bodie excused himself, and she checked her cell. A message had come in from Juanita Brooks, the director of the Community Small Business Initiative. Portia immediately returned it. Volunteering with the CSBI had helped fill the hole left in her life by her divorce. Although she'd never confess it to anyone, she wanted validation-proof that she was the best-and mentoring these new businesswomen was giving her that. She had so much hard-earned wisdom to offer. If only they would listen to her.
'Portia, I've spoken with Mary Churso,' Juanita said. 'I know you were excited about advising her, but… she's asked to be assigned to someone else.'
'Someone else? But that's not possible. I've spent so much time with her. I've worked so hard. How could she do that?'
'I think she was a little intimidated,' Juanita said. 'Just like the others.' She hesitated for a moment. 'I appreciate your commitment, Portia. Truly I do. But most of the women who come to us need to be nurtured a bit more gently.' Portia listened incredulously as Juanita explained that she had no one else currently in mind for her to work with, but that she'd let her know if someone 'special' came along. Then she hung up.
Portia couldn't believe it. She felt as if a giant fist had squeezed all the air from her lungs. How could Juanita steal this from her? She fought off her panic with anger. The woman was a terrible administrator. The absolute worst. She'd effectively fired Portia for expecting the best from these women instead of patronizing them.
Just then Bodie reappeared. He was exactly the distraction she needed, and she shoved her cell in her purse to watch him approach. A white T-shirt molded to his chest, and black athletic shorts displayed the powerful musculature of his legs, one of which had a long, puckered scar. She was shocked to feel her senses quickening.
'Showtime.' He pulled her to her feet.
Juanita had unhinged her so much that she'd forgotten about the game. 'I'm not doing this.'
'Sure you are.' He ignored her protests as he steered her toward the volleyball court. 'Hey, guys, this is Portia. She's a volleyball pro from the West Coast.'
'Hey, Portia.'
All but two of the players were male. One of the women wore shorts and looked like she meant business. The other was dressed in street clothes and also seemed to have been dragged into the game. Portia hated doing things she wasn't good at. She hadn't played volleyball since her freshman year in college, and the only part of her game that had ever amounted to anything was her serve.
Bodie slipped his fingers around the back of her neck and squeezed just firmly enough to remind her of his dog collar remark. 'Kick off those sandals and show us what you've got.'
He didn't believe she'd do it. This was a test, and he expected her to fail. Well, she wouldn't fail. Not again. Not after what had just happened with Juanita. She kicked off her sandals and stepped into the sand. He inclined his head-a mark of respect?-and turned away to address another player.
The ball didn't come close to her until several minutes into the game when it shot right at her chest. She couldn't get under it, and she pushed it into the net. As it came out, Bodie dove for it, sending up a spray of sand and somehow managing to get it up and over. He was an amazing athlete, intensely physical, quick, and intimidating. He was also a team player, setting up shots for the others instead of hogging the ball. Portia played hard, but other than scoring a point on a serve, she was a liability. Still, with Bodie taking up the slack next to her, their team won both games, and as she celebrated with them, she felt an odd exhilaration. She wanted Juanita Brooks-everybody at the Community Small Business Initiative-to see her now.
She cleaned up as well as she could in the restroom, but only a shower would remove the grit that had made its way into her hair and between her toes. She returned to the table just as Bodie reappeared in his street clothes. The bar didn't have showers, so he shouldn't have smelled so good, of agreeable male exertion, piney soap, and clean clothes. As he took his seat, the sleeve of his knit shirt rode up on his biceps, revealing more of the intricate tribal tattoo that encircled it. He grinned. 'You sucked.'
No one else was getting the best of her tonight. 'Now you've gone and hurt my feelings,' she cooed.
'God, I can't wait to get you into bed.'
Another of those unnerving shocks skittered through her. She snatched up the beer he'd ordered for her and took a sip, but it was too warm to cool her off. 'You're assuming a lot.'
'Not so much.' He leaned in. 'How else can you make sure I'll keep my mouth shut around Heath? It's the damnedest thing, but I can't seem to forget that little spying episode.'
'You're blackmailing me with sex?'
'Why not?' He settled back in his chair with a crooked grin. 'It'll give you a good excuse to do what you want to anyway.'
If another man had delivered a line like that, she would have laughed in his face, but the pit of her stomach dipped. She had the oddest feeling Bodie knew something about her that other people didn't understand, maybe something she'd missed herself. 'You're delusional.'
He rubbed his knuckles. 'There's nothing I love more than sexually dominating a strong woman.'
Her fingers tightened around the bottle, not because she felt threatened-he was enjoying himself too much-but
