said?”
“Like it was yesterday.” Joe raised an imaginary beer and deepened his voice. “Over the lips, past the gums, look out major leagues, here we come!”
But fate had stopped one of them cold. He lowered his hand, his reminiscent grin fading.
“Here we come?” Catherine asked. “Isn’t that taking fatherly pride a little far?”
Joe rode out a wave of irritation. “You don’t know how much he loved baseball. Hell, he coached every Little League and senior league team I was on. He never missed a high-school game, practiced with mefor hours and hours after a long day at the garage. Made me tough enough, consistent enough, good enough to play with the big boys. It was me out there on the AstroTurf wearing a major-league uniform. But it was my dad’s dream that got me there.”
“Your dad’s dream?”
He cast her a dark look. “Give it a rest, Catherine. His dream, my dream, our dream—what difference does it make?”
“Hmm.”
The sound set his teeth on edge. All she needed was a notepad, pencil and couch. God, just like his wife’s shrink. Stirring up old resentments, acting like he could change what couldn’t be changed. He let the silence stretch, growing tenser by the second.
The Loop 610 South entrance sign suddenly loomed ahead. Steering into the proper lane, he reduced his speed on the elevated curve. Accelerated on the down-ramp. Kept his eyes peeled for cops as he drove through the Bellaire speed trap.
What the hell kind of answer was “hmm“? Was she watching him again with that detached look he hated? Unable to stand it, he pretended to check his right side-view mirror.
Catherine sat staring trancelike out the passenger window, her low ponytail exposing part of her neck. His gaze riveted on that vulnerable spot—and irritation became something fierce and purely masculine. He wanted to swoop down and leave his mark on that pale curve of skin. He wanted it so much he could barely drag his gaze back to the freeway.
Lord have mercy.
He was a leg man, for God’s sake. Breasts rated a close second. But necks were for supporting a prettyface, not giving a guy a semi. This whole bet thing was making him crazy. If he weren’t careful, she’d slap him in a padded room and file the key under “Dracula Complex.”
He sensed rather than saw Catherine shift to face the windshield.
“Hmm,” she half sighed.
“Hmm what, dammit!”
She lurched against her seat belt, then pressed a hand to her chest. Her green eyes took on the look of a hissing cat’s. “What on earth is wrong with you?’
He hadn’t meant to scare her. Hadn’t known his question would come out as a shout. Hell, before meeting Catherine, women had actually complained about his easygoing indifference.
Massaging the faint throb of a headache, he glanced at the Astrodome out his left window “Sorry. Guess I’m getting tired of being analyzed that’s all.”
“Excuse me?”
like she didn’t know what he meant. “Those little ‘hmm’ sounds you keep making. Any minute I expect you to say, ‘Veddy interestink.’” His German accent stank, but by the sound of her outraged sputter, she got the picture.
“That’s absurd. And paranoid. I’m not analyzing you, Joe, but I’ll tell you one thing—somebody sure as heck should!”
Grinding his teeth, he glanced up at the rapidly approaching exit sign—his exit sign—and swerved sharply toward the off-ramp. The tires squealed. The Bronco earned its name. Once he was on residential streets en route to his apartment, he risked looking athis passenger. If her eyes had hissed before, they practically snarled now.
“Go ahead, Catherine, get it out of your system. I wouldn’t want you to bust a vein on my account.”
Her face grew alarmingly red. “I take back everything I said earlier. You are a dumb jock. An exceptionally stupid dumb jock, in fact, compared with you, dumb jocks are regular nuclear physicists!”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “You
“Like it was yesterday.” Joe raised an imaginary beer and deepened his voice. “Over the lips, past the gums, look out major leagues, here we come!”
But fate had stopped one of them cold. He lowered his hand, his reminiscent grin fading.
“Here we come?” Catherine asked. “Isn’t that taking fatherly pride a little far?”
Joe rode out a wave of irritation. “You don’t know how much he loved baseball. Hell, he coached every Little League and senior league team I was on. He never missed a high-school game, practiced with mefor hours and hours after a long day at the garage. Made me tough enough, consistent enough, good enough to play with the big boys. It was me out there on the AstroTurf wearing a major-league uniform. But it was my dad’s dream that got me there.”
“Your dad’s dream?”
He cast her a dark look. “Give it a rest, Catherine. His dream, my dream, our dream—what difference does it make?”
“Hmm.”
The sound set his teeth on edge. All she needed was a notepad, pencil and couch. God, just like his wife’s shrink. Stirring up old resentments, acting like he could change what couldn’t be changed. He let the silence stretch, growing tenser by the second.
The Loop 610 South entrance sign suddenly loomed ahead. Steering into the proper lane, he reduced his speed on the elevated curve. Accelerated on the down-ramp. Kept his eyes peeled for cops as he drove through the Bellaire speed trap.
What the hell kind of answer was “hmm“? Was she watching him again with that detached look he hated? Unable to stand it, he pretended to check his right side-view mirror.
Catherine sat staring trancelike out the passenger window, her low ponytail exposing part of her neck. His gaze riveted on that vulnerable spot—and irritation became something fierce and purely masculine. He wanted to swoop down and leave his mark on that pale curve of skin. He wanted it so much he could barely drag his gaze back to the freeway.
Lord have mercy.
He was a leg man, for God’s sake. Breasts rated a close second. But necks were for supporting a prettyface, not giving a guy a semi. This whole bet thing was making him crazy. If he weren’t careful, she’d slap him in a padded room and file the key under “Dracula Complex.”
He sensed rather than saw Catherine shift to face the windshield.
“Hmm,” she half sighed.
“Hmm what, dammit!”
She lurched against her seat belt, then pressed a hand to her chest. Her green eyes took on the look of a hissing cat’s. “What on earth is wrong with you?’
He hadn’t meant to scare her. Hadn’t known his question would come out as a shout. Hell, before meeting Catherine, women had actually complained about his easygoing indifference.
Massaging the faint throb of a headache, he glanced at the Astrodome out his left window “Sorry. Guess I’m getting tired of being analyzed that’s all.”
“Excuse me?”
like she didn’t know what he meant. “Those little ‘hmm’ sounds you keep making. Any minute I expect you to say, ‘Veddy interestink.’” His German accent stank, but by the sound of her outraged sputter, she got the picture.
“That’s absurd. And paranoid. I’m not analyzing you, Joe, but I’ll tell you one thing—somebody sure as heck should!”
Grinding his teeth, he glanced up at the rapidly approaching exit sign—his exit sign—and swerved sharply toward the off-ramp. The tires squealed. The Bronco earned its name. Once he was on residential streets en route to his apartment, he risked looking athis passenger. If her eyes had hissed before, they practically snarled now.
“Go ahead, Catherine, get it out of your system. I wouldn’t want you to bust a vein on my account.”
Her face grew alarmingly red. “I take back everything I said earlier. You are a dumb jock. An exceptionally stupid dumb jock, in fact, compared with you, dumb jocks are regular nuclear physicists!”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “You
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