“What about you?”
“You’re pushing me around.”
“Honey, you’re about as weak as a wrecking ball.”
He turned the collar of his jacket up around her jaw and put his hands on her shoulders. “And I think you like me more than you’re willing to admit.”
Mae looked down and closed her eyes. This was not happening. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re beautiful and I think about you a lot. I’m very attracted to you, Mae.”
Her eyes popped open. “Me?” Men like Hugh weren’t attracted to women like her. He was a well-known athlete. She was a flat-chested, skinny girl who’d never had a date until after she’d graduated from high school. “This isn’t funny.”
“I don’t think so either. I liked you the first time I saw you standing in the park. Why do you think I’ve been calling you?”
“I just thought you liked to harass women.”
He laughed. “No. Just you. You’re special.”
She allowed herself a moment to believe him. A moment to feel flattered by the attentions of a big jock she had no intention of dating. The moment didn’t last long before she remembered how he’d teased her the first time they’d met. “You’re a real jerk,” she said.
“I hope you give me a chance to change your mind.”
She grabbed his wrist. “This isn’t funny anymore.”
“I never thought it was funny. I usually like girls who like me back. I’ve never fallen for someone who hated me.”
He looked so serious she almost believed him. “I don’t hate you,” she confessed.
“Well, that’s a start, I guess.” He moved his hands to the sides of her neck and tilted her chin back with his thumbs. “Are you still cold?”
“A little.” The warmth of his palms on her throat spread a quivering heat to her stomach. She was shocked and somewhat dismayed by her reaction.
“Do you want to take our drinks and go inside?”
Her shock settled into confusion. “I want to go home.”
Disappointment tugged one corner of his mouth downward, and he moved his hands to her upper arms. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I took a taxi.”
“Then I’ll take you home.”
“Okay, but I won’t invite you to come inside,” she said. There were some women who might consider her promiscuous, but she did have her standards. Hugh Miner was handsome and successful, and he was behaving like a perfect gentleman. He just wasn’t her type.
“That’s up to you.”
“I mean it. You can’t come in.”
“I believe you. If it makes you feel better, I promise I won’t even get off the bike.”
“Bike?”
“Yeah, I rode my Harley. You’ll love it.” He put one arm around her shoulders and they moved toward the entrance to the bar. “First I need to find Dmitri and Stuart and tell them I’m leaving.”
“I can’t ride on your motorcycle with you.”
They stopped by the entrance and allowed a group of people to exit. “Sure you can. I won’t let you get hurt.”
“I’m not worried about that.” She looked up into his face, illuminated by an orange Miller light shining above the door. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
He froze for a few seconds, then smiled. “Well, there you go. We have something in common. Neither am I.”
John followed Caroline Foster-Duffy through the entry hall of Virgil’s Bainbridge estate. Her blond hair was streaked with gray and fine lines had settled in the corners of her eyes. She was one of those women fortunate enough to mature with wisdom and grace. She had the wisdom not to fight her age with brassy hair dye or cosmetic surgery, and the grace to look beautiful despite her sixty-five years.
“He’s been expecting you,” she said as they passed the formal dining room. She paused at a set of double mahogany doors and looked up at John with concern shining in her pale blue eyes. “I’m going to have to ask you to keep your visit short. I know Virgil called you to meet with him tonight, but he’s been working harder than usual the past couple of days. He’s tired, but he won’t rest. I know something is wrong, but he won’t share it with me. Do you know what has happened to upset him? Is it business?”
“I don’t know,” John answered. He was into the second year of his three-year contract and didn’t have to worry about negotiations for another year, so he doubted Virgil had called him to discuss his contract. And besides, he didn’t handle negotiations personally, he paid a sports management corporation to take care of his professional interests. “I assumed he wanted to talk about his draft choices,” he said, although he did think Virgil’s request to talk to him in person was peculiar, especially at nine on a Friday night.
A frown wrinkled Caroline’s brow before she turned and opened the door behind her. “John’s here,” she announced as she walked into Virgil’s office. John followed her into a room filled with cherry wood and leather, sculptures of Japanese fishermen and Currier & Ives lithographs. The different textures blended and created an impression of wealth and taste. “But I’m only going to let him stay for half an hour,” she continued. “Then I’m going to make him leave so that you can get your rest.”
Virgil looked up from several papers scattered across the executive desk in front of him. “Shut the door on your way out,” was his response to his wife.
Her lips flattened into a thin line, but she said nothing and backed out of the room.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Virgil motioned to a chair on the opposite side of his desk.
John looked into the older man’s face, and he knew why he’d been summoned. Bitterness and fatigue pulled at the little pouches beneath Virgil’s eyes. He looked every bit of his seventy-five years. John sat in a leather wing chair and waited.
“The other day you seemed genuinely surprised to see Georgeanne Howard on television.”
“I was.”
“You didn’t know she had her own program here in Seattle?”
“No.”
“How can that be, John? The two of you are quite close.”
“Obviously we’re not that close,” John answered, wondering exactly how much Virgil knew.
Virgil picked up a sheet of paper and handed it across the desk. “This says you are a liar.”
John took the document, and his gaze quickly scanned the copy of Lexie’s birth certificate. He was listed as Lexie’s father, which normally would have pleased him, but he didn’t appreciate anyone digging into his personal life. He tossed the paper back onto the desk and met Virgil’s stare. “Where did you get that?”
Virgil waved off John’s question with his hand. “Is it true?”
“Yes, it is. Where did you get it?”
Virgil shrugged. “I’ve had someone doing a little checking on Georgeanne, and imagine my surprise when I saw your name.” He held up several court documents along with John’s legal acknowledgment of paternity. Virgil didn’t hand them over, but he didn’t need to. John had his own copies at home. “Apparently you fathered a child with Georgeanne.”
“You know I did, so why not cut the bullshit and get to the point.”
Virgil set the papers back down. “That’s one thing I’ve always liked about you, John. You don’t pussyfoot around anything.” His gaze never wavered as he asked, “Did you have sex with my fiancйe before or after she left me standing in my own backyard looking like a ridiculous old fool?”
Even though John didn’t like anyone digging into his past, or appreciate the personal question, he did think it was fair. He respected Virgil enough to believe he deserved an answer. “I met Georgeanne for the first time after she left the wedding. I’d never seen her before she came running out of your house and asked me for a ride. She wasn’t wearing a wedding dress, and I didn’t know who she was.”
Virgil sat back in his chair. “But at some point you did know.”
“Yes.”
“When you found out who she was, you slept with her anyway.”