commanding posture that
emphasized every inch of his tall, broad-shouldered body.
And the smile wasn’t bad either.
Striding up to the RAV4, he opened her door
and greeted her. And then, as soon as her feet hit the driveway, he
asked, “Did Decker call you?”
Startled, she answered right away. “Do you
mean to apologize for ditching us Friday night? Yes, he came by,
apologized, and left. No big deal.”
He eyed her skeptically. “He didn’t hit on
you?”
“I don’t date guys who have girlfriends.
Especially married girlfriends.”
“Good policy. And even if he does break up with her . . .” He winced and backtracked quickly.
“Deck’s a great guy. A great friend, so don’t get me wrong.”
“But he’s a mess?” Tess smiled. “Trust me, I
see it all the time. Guys come into the bar, fresh from a breakup,
determined to get back in the saddle. But it never goes smoothly.
So that’s my other policy. No rebound dates. Not even if the
guy’s amazing.”
“That makes sense. Plus,” he added teasingly,
“ I saw you first. So come on.” He gestured toward the house.
“Let’s get started.”
Chapter
Three
As soon as they settled at the dining table,
Tess pulled out the recorder and said sincerely, “I love this gift. If the article’s a hit, I’ll owe you big time.”
“Glad you like it. But . . .” He reached
to cover her hand with his own so she wouldn’t activate the device.
“Before we get started, I want to hear more about your issues with
your father.”
“Oh, Lord, why do I open my mouth?” She
rolled her eyes. “Dad and I are fine. I just blame things on him
because he’s so convenient.”
The QB’s gaze didn’t waver. “You said he’s an
overachiever. And he pushed you too hard because of it. And since
you call me an overachiever too—and you’re right about
that—I don’t want to make the same mistakes with my kids. So
talk to me.”
She eyed him intently. “You want to be the
perfect dad?”
“Definitely.”
“Well, there’s your first mistake,” she said
with a sigh. “Don’t get so invested in it. I mean, the odds are
your kids will be fine. And a lot like you. My brother and sister
were practically clones of my parents. Honor students,
valedictorians, Harvard, Yale—the works. The trouble is, Dad was so
sure his formula was the only winning formula, he couldn’t
see I was happy with my decent grades, science fiction books and
doodling.” She smiled sheepishly. “Want to hear a story?”
“Definitely.”
“My mom loves to tell this one. About
the time Dad took the whole family to see a magician on a Saturday
afternoon. Illusions, jokes, hypnosis—the works. Then over dinner,
Dad did his usual drill. Made each of us describe our favorite part
of the performance. So my big brother, Brett, goes first and raves
about how the magician levitated his assistant. And since Brett was
a brainiac even at age nine, he already had two possible
explanations for the trick. Then my sister talked about this cool
illusion where the guy cut up a scarf with scissors, then mushed it
all up in a hat, and presto —the scarf was back together
again. Standard stuff, right? And since she’s a serious
overachiever, too, she had it completely figured out.”
Johnny’s eyes twinkled. “So which act did you
pick?”
“Well, keep in mind I was four years
old.”
“Got it.”
She smiled fondly. “Apparently I said I liked
the part where the magician told us to make our minds a complete
blank.”
Johnny waited.
“That’s it,” she said with a laugh. “And
that’s exactly how my dad reacted. Mom says he stared at me,
waiting for me to go on, because obviously, that was only step one
in the trick. Then he realized I just liked having an empty head,
so his face turned to ash and he dragged his fingernails through
his hair like he could barely keep himself together.”
Johnny chuckled. “Sounds like you were pretty
cute.”
“You bet I was. But poor Dad took
emphasized every inch of his tall, broad-shouldered body.
And the smile wasn’t bad either.
Striding up to the RAV4, he opened her door
and greeted her. And then, as soon as her feet hit the driveway, he
asked, “Did Decker call you?”
Startled, she answered right away. “Do you
mean to apologize for ditching us Friday night? Yes, he came by,
apologized, and left. No big deal.”
He eyed her skeptically. “He didn’t hit on
you?”
“I don’t date guys who have girlfriends.
Especially married girlfriends.”
“Good policy. And even if he does break up with her . . .” He winced and backtracked quickly.
“Deck’s a great guy. A great friend, so don’t get me wrong.”
“But he’s a mess?” Tess smiled. “Trust me, I
see it all the time. Guys come into the bar, fresh from a breakup,
determined to get back in the saddle. But it never goes smoothly.
So that’s my other policy. No rebound dates. Not even if the
guy’s amazing.”
“That makes sense. Plus,” he added teasingly,
“ I saw you first. So come on.” He gestured toward the house.
“Let’s get started.”
Chapter
Three
As soon as they settled at the dining table,
Tess pulled out the recorder and said sincerely, “I love this gift. If the article’s a hit, I’ll owe you big time.”
“Glad you like it. But . . .” He reached
to cover her hand with his own so she wouldn’t activate the device.
“Before we get started, I want to hear more about your issues with
your father.”
“Oh, Lord, why do I open my mouth?” She
rolled her eyes. “Dad and I are fine. I just blame things on him
because he’s so convenient.”
The QB’s gaze didn’t waver. “You said he’s an
overachiever. And he pushed you too hard because of it. And since
you call me an overachiever too—and you’re right about
that—I don’t want to make the same mistakes with my kids. So
talk to me.”
She eyed him intently. “You want to be the
perfect dad?”
“Definitely.”
“Well, there’s your first mistake,” she said
with a sigh. “Don’t get so invested in it. I mean, the odds are
your kids will be fine. And a lot like you. My brother and sister
were practically clones of my parents. Honor students,
valedictorians, Harvard, Yale—the works. The trouble is, Dad was so
sure his formula was the only winning formula, he couldn’t
see I was happy with my decent grades, science fiction books and
doodling.” She smiled sheepishly. “Want to hear a story?”
“Definitely.”
“My mom loves to tell this one. About
the time Dad took the whole family to see a magician on a Saturday
afternoon. Illusions, jokes, hypnosis—the works. Then over dinner,
Dad did his usual drill. Made each of us describe our favorite part
of the performance. So my big brother, Brett, goes first and raves
about how the magician levitated his assistant. And since Brett was
a brainiac even at age nine, he already had two possible
explanations for the trick. Then my sister talked about this cool
illusion where the guy cut up a scarf with scissors, then mushed it
all up in a hat, and presto —the scarf was back together
again. Standard stuff, right? And since she’s a serious
overachiever, too, she had it completely figured out.”
Johnny’s eyes twinkled. “So which act did you
pick?”
“Well, keep in mind I was four years
old.”
“Got it.”
She smiled fondly. “Apparently I said I liked
the part where the magician told us to make our minds a complete
blank.”
Johnny waited.
“That’s it,” she said with a laugh. “And
that’s exactly how my dad reacted. Mom says he stared at me,
waiting for me to go on, because obviously, that was only step one
in the trick. Then he realized I just liked having an empty head,
so his face turned to ash and he dragged his fingernails through
his hair like he could barely keep himself together.”
Johnny chuckled. “Sounds like you were pretty
cute.”
“You bet I was. But poor Dad took
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