“Oh, you want suggestive? You must be the reason for global warming because you’re hot.”
“No,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Not good to reference the looks. It makes you appear shallow and desperate. That one deserves a two.”
“I lost my number, can I have yours?”
“Clever. Not as trite as the previous attempt.”
“If I followed you home, would you keep me?”
Angela groaned. All right, he was impossibly charming. But she certainly wasn’t going to let that affect her in the least. “Do you have a database of these? Or is your memory really that good?”
He leaned closer. “I have more. Maybe if you’d tell me what would work, I could choose more wisely.”
He was obviously interested. But how far was he planning to take this, she wondered. Was he simply having a little fun or was he looking for something more. Angela gathered her nerve. “Sorry. Pick-up lines don’t work with me,” she said.
“What’s the worst you’ve ever heard?” he asked.
“If I had a garden, I’d put your tulips and my tulips together? Just how is that supposed to work?”
Max leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers, lingering there for a brief moment before stepping back. “I think it worked pretty well.”
Stunned, Angela stared at him. Yes, it was an innocent kiss, so quick it barely warranted mention. But she hadn’t had a chance to prepare herself. Max Morgan, the man of her teenage dreams, had just kissed her! That simple touch had a startling effect on her body. Her pulse began racing and a warm flush crept up her cheeks. She opened her mouth, then quickly snapped it shut. Any attempt to put together a clever comeback would result in a string of incoherent babble.
His expression shifted suddenly and she thought she saw a flash of regret cross his deeply tanned face. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by that. Really.” He grabbed her hand. “Maybe we could start over? I’m Max Morgan. And the reason I came over here was to tell you that you look incredible in that dress. The color is…amazing.”
Angela cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. Rewind. Begin again. Gather your composure and act as if the kiss meant nothing. It didn’t mean anything at all! “That was a pretty good line. Honesty. I like that.”
“I was an Eagle Scout. We’re big on honesty.”
“I know,” she said. She knew every arcane detail about Max. “I mean, Eagle Scouts are supposed to be trustworthy, right? You should have probably led with that instead of the angel line.”
He held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Max Morgan, former Eagle Scout.”
“Angela Weatherby,” she replied. “Former…” What could she say. Wallflower? Introvert? Stalker? “President of the Latin Club.”
“Really?” he asked. “So, you’re smart and beautiful.”
“And you’re cheeky and charming,” Angela replied.
Max pushed away from the bar. “Would you like to get out of here? It’s a nice night. Why don’t we take a walk?”
She felt a tremor run through her. This was the moment of truth. She could turn and run or she could hang in there and get her interview. Angela pointed to her shoes. “I’m not going far in these heels.”
“I know the perfect place, then,” he said.
She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle Max on her own, without the distractions of the bar to fill the silences. But this was her chance, to figure out this guy who’d had such a hold on her. And to rationalize her crazy reaction to him. “Sure,” she said. “That sounds nice.” In truth, it sounded impossibly romantic.
“All right, here’s the plan. Where is your car parked?”
“In the ramp just down the block.”
“Why don’t you leave through the front door and start walking toward the ramp. I’ll go out the back and meet you outside. That way, nobody will see us leaving together.”
Angela frowned. “That was not a good line,” she said. “In fact, it was kind of insulting.”
“No!” he cried, taking her hand again. “No, no.
That’s not what I meant. It’s just that if we leave together, there will be all kinds of speculation, maybe even some mention of it in the papers. I don’t want you to get pulled into that.” He paused. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
Angela decided not to lie. What would be the point? She just stared at him silently and shrugged.
“You’re Max Morgan,” she replied. “You play baseball.”
He grabbed her hand. “Come on, we’ll both go out the back.” He laced his fingers between hers and pulled her along behind him, through the crowd to the kitchen and then out the rear door to the alley. “We’ll take my car.” He pointed to a black BMW sedan with tinted windows, parked against the building.
Max opened the passenger side door for her and helped her inside, then hopped in behind the wheel.
Angela wasn’t sure what to say to him. She’d expected they might chat at the bar. She’d been prepared to ask him a few questions, to get a sense of the man he was.
She’d even predicted it would take approximately thirty minutes for her to realize, once and for all, that he was not the man of her post-adolescent dreams. The night was definitely not going as planned. “Nice car,” she murmured.
He laughed as he reached for the ignition. “Now, I’m going to have to start calling you out on the cheesy lines.”
“Sorry,” Angela said, relaxing a bit. “I’m not the best flirt. And I’m sure that’s what you’re used to.”
Max turned to her. “Maybe I don’t like what I’m used to,” he said. “Maybe I don’t want you to flirt with me.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I just wish people could forget all that celebrity stuff and be normal.”
“Well, if you’re looking for normal, then I’m definitely it,” Angela said. “Nothing very special here.”
“You were president of the Latin Club,” he said, grinning. “I think that’s kind of special.”
“You’re very strange,” Angela said. As he pulled out of the parking spot, she took the opportunity to observe him, his profile outlined by the light from the street lamps.
He was even more beautiful than she remembered, his features so perfectly. His hair was darker and his body more mature, but there was still a bit of the handsome boy left inside him-especially in the smile and in the teasing tone of his voice.
“Tell me something completely random about yourself. Let’s start there.”
Angela knew she’d have to come up with some thing intriguing and humorous. Something to show him that an evening with her could be fun. “I can list all the states in the Union.”
“Impressive,” Max said.
“In alphabetical order, in reverse alpha order, in order of entrance into the union, and in order of geographical size. Plus I know all of the capitals by heart.” She drew a deep breath. “What can I say, I was a geek and my parents thought it was an interesting party trick.”
“You are a very interesting woman, Angela.” He turned on some music, flipping through the CDs in his player until he found something soothing.
She was going to make a complete mess of things.
In another hour, he’d be dropping her off at the parking ramp and heading back to the bar, looking for someone more intriguing. It was time to start asking questions. “So you’re famous,” she ventured. “What’s that like?”
“It’s about what you’d expect,” he said with a shrug. “Sometimes bad, sometimes good.”
“Tell me the bad,” Angela said.
“I hate the press. I hate that they can make up stories about my life without any thought of how it affects the people I love. I hate that people wonder who I date or where I eat dinner or where I sleep at night. I hate that I don’t have much of a life outside of baseball.”