Against the Ropes by Jeanette Murray

mocked. After letting his thumb hover over the call button on his phone, he switched to text and sent her a message.
    Coward? You betcha.
    She responded less than sixty seconds later, exactly how he’d guessed. Tired, overworked, needed some rest and time to go over notes.
    Greg: All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl.
    Reagan: I can handle being dull. I can’t handle putting work off. Thanks, though.
    See, Costa? You don’t know everything.
She was going to reject his offer. But at least he’d put it out there.
    Just as he was about to put his phone down, he tried one more thing.
    Greg: You can ask me one more question, if you let me buy you dessert.
    There was a long pause, to the point where he wondered if she’d put her phone down and didn’t hear it alert with the text. He gave up and set his on the bedside table and went to the drawer where he kept takeout menus.
    And nearly broke land speed records racing back to grab it when it beeped with a text.
    Reagan: Dessert only, my pick and we call it quits early.
    Bingo. Before he could stop it, he felt a smile creep across his face. The one thing destined to get her out of her work funk was . . . work.
    He could choose to be offended by that, and see it as a negative that she only wanted to spend time with him if she could call it productive. That being out with him wasn’t reason enough. Or he could see it as a positive that she was
too
tempted by him, and using work as an excuse made her feel better about stepping over that boundary.
    He was an optimist, after all.
    Greg: DEAL.

CHAPTER
    8
    R eagan waited in the back corner of the popular café-style yogurt bar. She’d arrived early, notebook ready, and scoped out the offerings. Frozen yogurt was the least of the dessert sins she could think of. There was a fat-free, dairy-free yogurt that looked tempting . . .
    Oh, who the hell was she kidding? That thing looked like pink glue.
    But hey, anything fat-free, dairy free, shame-and-guilt free had to be good for you, right?
    â€œThis is an interesting choice.”
    She jerked her head up as Greg slid into the small chair across the tiny bistro-style table. Why did the man have to make a simple polo shirt and jeans look sinful? “What’s wrong with it?”
    â€œNothing, I guess. I just thought you’d be someone to pick something a little more . . .” He glanced around the room, at the bright lights, brighter colors and several tables full of screaming kids. “I don’t know, adult?”
    â€œFrozen yogurt is very adult,” she said, biting the insideof her cheek to keep from smiling. “It’s practically a health food.”
    He stared at her. “Uh-huh. And that’s why you can dump a bowl of peanut butter cups on top of it and they weigh it by the pound? Because of the health benefits?”
    â€œExactly.” She left her purse and notebook there—the café was small enough she didn’t worry about it—and went to the starting line where the cups were. “Have you been here before?”
    â€œA few times. You?”
    â€œFirst time here. But there was one near my apartment in college. Very popular place.” She’d gone there a few times to study, when the lights in her apartment had gone off for nonpayment. The owners had been sweet and let her sit at a corner table to work even though she almost never bought anything.
    Greg waited for her to grab the provided cups—which were big enough to hold three baked potatoes—and pick out her flavor. She let three seconds’ worth of pink glue plop into her cup and walked to the register. She passed by Greg, who was on flavor number two, when he snagged her elbow.
    â€œWhat the hell is that?”
    â€œStrawberry,” she answered defensively.
    â€œThat is definitely not strawberry. That’s nothing. There’s, like, a thimble-full in there. Go get