Millie tried to keep up as they plunged into the knot of patrons near the door. A muscle-bound bouncer in a snug Calhoun’s T-shirt checked IDs. He hadn’t been at his post when she came in, but Millie chose to believe he would have carded her too. Young men liked to flirt with her, and she saw no reason not to encourage them.
Ty zigged, then zagged. Her tote bag hit a guy in an oversized rugby shirt and sagging jeans right in the solar plexus. “Hey, watch out, lady,” the kid groused.
Embarrassed, she ducked her head and mumbled an apology she didn’t really mean. If she’d known he was going to call her “lady” in front of God and everyone, she would have whacked him with the bag on purpose.
The bouncer smiled broadly as she passed. He dropped a wink, and her confidence shot straight through the stratosphere. Ty was here. He came for her. She didn’t care what pimply-faced little shits in ill-fitting clothes thought of her. The cute bouncer would have checked her age and maybe even checked her out. She was viable, damn it. Hell, she was beyond viable. She was vital!
Before she could finish her internal pep talk, Ty threw open the exterior door and pulled her out into the balmy, late-summer evening. The sun sank steadily closer to the tree line to the west, but the glowing orb wasn’t going down without a fight. Hazy rays of golden sunlight bathed the trees and student rental homes lining the street. To their right lay the campus quadrangle, with its brick walkways, manicured flower beds, and centerpiece fountain. If they went left, she’d be only seven blocks from home.
But Ty kept moving straight ahead.
Twisting his large frame, he sidestepped between the bumpers of parked cars. Millie tried to haul the straps of her bag up to her shoulder as she trotted to keep up. “Where are we going?”
A sharp chirp and flashing lights drew her attention to a low-slung luxury sedan parked on the opposite curb. She let out an appreciative whistle as he led her directly to the passenger door. “How’d you score front-row parking?”
Ty opened the door wide and gestured for her to take a seat. “Convinced a kid in a jacked-up four-by-four the walk would do him good.”
Millie laughed as she pictured innately elegant Ty Ransom negotiating with the local rednecks. Taking her time, she tossed her tote over the seat, then lowered herself onto the creamy glove leather, swinging her legs in last, like some kind of Hollywood film star. “Did you now?”
“I might have thrown in an invite to sit courtside at the Green-Gold scrimmage next week,” he admitted, then let the door swing shut.
By the time he reached the driver’s side, she’d composed herself enough to start putting a bit of her own spin on the situation. He dropped into the seat with a low groan, then leaned back to maneuver his long legs into the cabin. Fascinated, she watched him unfurl. “Why don’t you have the driver’s seat removed? You could be an actual back-seat driver.”
He slanted her a pained look. “But the rear seat isn’t heated and cooled.”
She smiled, tickled by his practical, if a bit spoiled, rationale. “Oh, well, butt warmers make all the difference.” Millie found herself feeling a bit miffed when he twisted the key in the ignition without saying another word. Or giving her a kiss hello. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked as he began to work the car out of the tight parking space.
Without taking his eyes off the mirrors, he asked, “Is your car parked nearby?”
She blinked. “No. I walk to work if it’s not raining.”
When he was satisfied with the angle, he peeled out of the spot. “Good.” He hit her with another one of those skimming glances that took in everything. “You walk in those shoes?”
Millie looked down at the high-heeled gladiator sandals strapped onto her feet. “I’ve been known to,” she said, tipping her chin up with feminine pride.
“You really are an iron woman.”
A blush flooded her skin with heat. She couldn’t help but revel in his admiration. But she wouldn’t give in to his silent treatment and caveman tactics because he knew exactly how to compliment her.
“Actually, I’ve never done a triathlon. I prefer to do my swimming in cement ponds. Preferably on a raft. With an umbrella drink close at hand,” she added with a sniff. She didn’t tell him she carried a pair of running shoes in her bag at all times.
After all, who was she to shatter his illusions?
She scanned the houses and apartments surrounding the campus dispassionately, all the while trying to get a handle on her erratic heartbeat. She should have been lambasting him about the high-handed way he’d walked into the bar, stolen her away from her friends, then hauled her out of the place like she was some kind of wayward woman who needed to get her mind right. But much to her dismay, her feminist sensibilities were no match for a passel of frustrated hormones.
This was probably the closest she would ever come to an honest-to-goodness An Officer and a Gentleman moment, and if she didn’t get a grip on herself, she might swoon. She mustered up a few scraps of indignation by the time he slowed for the stoplight at University Street. “You didn’t ask if I wanted to come with you.”
Ty tensed, then flexed his jaw. He didn’t look at her. Not even a peek. Instead, he wound those long fingers tighter around the steering wheel and stared at the signal suspended over the intersection. She could almost hear him willing the signal to change.
She looked up at the red light. The lens glowed bright and
