Sheburst out with a laugh, giving her nervousness release. “Flippers?”
“Flippers.”He nodded. “What’s your favorite part about what you do?”
She bither lip and looked up at a dark square between the patio lights. “I love makingsomething out of nothing—transforming the dog of the street into a nice homefor someone. Everybody wins.”
“Whatdo you do besides work?”
“Ivolunteer at the Wildlife Animal Sanctuary when I can.”
“I’veheard of it, but I’ve never been. Tigers and lions and bears, oh my.”
“That’sthe one.”
Helooked at her as if appraising her. A mischievous smile crept up his cheeks.“Do you like sports?”
“Besideshockey? A few.”
“Goodanswer. Such as?”
“Baseball.”
Hedropped his knife, and it clattered on his plate. “Baseball? Seriously? Atleast you could have picked a fast-moving game, like basketball.”
“Ohplease! It takes them fifteen minutes to play two minutes. And the drama!”
Hechuckled. “You’ve got a point there. But really, baseball? That’s the world’smost boring sport.”
“It’snot the most boring sport. Golf is. And when you have a pitcher’s duel or lotsof runs, a baseball game is really exciting. I used to play softball.Shortstop.”
He satback as if shoved. “Get out! When?”
“Middleschool. Didn’t have time in high school, but I still love it. Norm and I havebeen talking about forming a team with the crew. It would be a blast.”
Beckettsat forward again and attacked another piece of bread. “I’d come watch youplay, cheer you on. Golf is not boring, by the way—not when you’re the onegolfing.”
It tookher a moment to process what he’d said: he’d come watch her play. Why? EvenAdrian hadn’t expressed interest in her hatching a team. Sorta like his lackof interest in any of my projects.
Warmthspread from her center outward along her limbs. Her heart seemed to expand andreach toward Beckett. The tingling suddenly ratcheted up, and she shifted,crossing her legs. Time for a diversion. “Speaking of golf, hockey, andbaseball, between Happy Gilmore, Field of Dreams, and BullDurham, which is your favorite?”
Hetilted his head. “I don’t remember hockey being part of this conversation.”
“Atechnicality. You’re a hockey player, so it’s automatically part of theconversation.”
Hiseyes slid to the fountain. “So you’re into older movies?”
“Iwouldn’t classify those as ‘older.’ Forties and fifties black-and-white—thoseare older and the best, in my opinion. No matter the era, if it’s aclassic, it’s timeless.”
Hescrunched his face. “I agree with you on old black-and-whites. But you’resaying Happy Gilmore is a timeless classic?”
Shelaughed. “Not when you put it that way.”
“I loveField of Dreams, but I have to go with Bull Durham.”
Shepumped her fist. “Yes! That’s my favorite sports movie of all time. Best lines,best clichés.” Best table sex ever!
“Ilearned how to answer interview questions watching that movie,” he snickered.“As for baseball, maybe we should go to a game sometime so you can explain itto me.” He waggled his eyebrows, and a spark zinged her where it ought not tohave. She clenched her crossed legs.
“You’reon,” she rasped. Oh dear God! Why did I say that? Her wineglass was backat her lips.
“Allright. Next client dinner. Jesus, baseball. You are buying the hot dogs,right? And the beer? When’s Adrian back?”
“Uh,Sunday.”
“Good.Marty and Claudia are hosting a small barbecue Saturday, and I don’t want to goalone, but there’s no one I want to take. And they love you, so they’llactually let me in if you’re with me. My mouth is running, and I can’t catchit. I’m ordering another bottle of wine. Is the cabernet okay, or do you wantsomething else?”
Aninvisible hand had her by the nose and was yanking her head up, down, allaround, as though she tracked a drunk dragonfly. That invisible hand belongedto a tornado named Beckett Miller.
Sheshook her head. “How does anyone keep up with you?”
“You’rekeeping up just fine,” he said smoothly. “So you’re good with the cab, and I’llpick you up at three?”
“Um,the cab’s fine, but my truck goes in for a checkup, so Saturday won’t work.”
“Actually,that’s perfect. I’ll pick you up wherever you’re dropping it and give you aride back after it’s ready.”
Twopeople appeared at their table holding plates of food, giving her a moment tocatch her breath. Only to lose it again.
“Goodevening, Miss Anderson,” one said. Startled, Paige looked up to see a smilingpudding-bodied man with a salt-and-pepper goatee. He arranged plates on thetable. “Chef’s specials, as ordered.”
“Thisis Marco, Andie. Best damn—darn cook in town.” Beckett jerked his chin inMarco’s direction.
“Idon’t remember ordering,” she spluttered.
“Youdidn’t. Beckett did,” said Marco.
“Sothat’s why you were gone so long,” she said to Beckett. He answered with a headdip.
“Theseare specialties de la maison not on tonight’s menu. Enjoy, MissAnderson,” Marco said with a little bow.
Paulson.Mrs. Paulson.
Afterhe left, Beckett said, “I heard you say you like shrimp, so I took the liberty.I hope you don’t mind. Sh—crap. I should have asked if you had any foodallergies.” He raised his dark eyebrows expectantly.
“Everythinglooks wonderful! I don’t have any allergies. Are you trying not to swear?”
He gaveher a sheepish look. “Bad habits are hard to break.” Then he raised his glassand winked. “Here’s to replacing old bad habits with new bad habits.”
.~ * * * ~.
Sometime before dessert, he said, “So you built yourbusiness on your own? No help from Adrian?”
“Nohelp from Adrian.”
“Well,now I’m even more impressed. I guess I pegged him for a benefactor. It’sprobably the age thing—he looks a lot older than you.”
“He’stwelve years older.”
Beckettpulled in a breath and asked the question that had been dancing in his head allnight. He fought to keep incredulity from his tone. “So how did he convince youto marry him?”
Sheshrugged. “He knocked me over, swept me off my feet. I wasn’t very, um, experienced,and I guess I was flattered this sophisticated older man was attracted to a cowtown hick like me.”
“You’reno hick, and there’s nothing wrong with cow towns. What else?”
“Theusual. Roses, romantic dinners, lavish trips. He was exceedingly charming.”
“Andnow?”
Sheglanced up at a twinkly light and squirmed in her seat. “We’ve been marriedthree years. It’s hard to keep going at that level.”
Heprobably can’t get it up. Corrallingthe snarky remark on his tongue, he said instead, “Kids?”
She droppedher gaze to his. “I beg your pardon?”
Hestared into her eyes for a beat before
