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His jaw set. Amazingly, I knew that look. Within a month of meeting him, I could identify the dark expression that screamed his desire to sidestep my question.
“Dane.” I refused to be sidestepped.
He regarded me awhile longer, then said, “Legitimate.”
I didn’t exactly follow. He caught on.
“The troubles I’ve seen in the past with bringing up a hotel were all predictable. Textbook, really, so I’d anticipated them and could easily combat them. What’s happening at the Lux…” He shook his head. Angst rolled off his tongue as he said, “This is more targeted.”
His eyes deepened in color, his forehead crinkled with dismay.
I reeled from just one word.
Targeted.
As in, specific issues, an expensive prank of sorts, or … sabotage?
I didn’t get the chance to ask and was stuck with my off-the-charts inquisitiveness where Dane was concerned. My father and Ethan joined us. I made the introductions.
“Thanks for inviting us,” my dad said as he shook Dane’s hand. My dad wore a guarded expression and his tone was a bit strained. He totally knew something was up. Did Dane and I exude our attraction to each other? Granted, he did stand a bit too close. Couldn’t seem to take his eyes off me.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Dane said. “I’m a fan.”
“You’re not old enough to remember me.”
“Sure I am,” Dane insisted with a smile. “I started golfing when I was in high school. You were in The Open that year.”
He’d retired not long after that.
“Well, it wasn’t a win, unfortunately.”
“But an incredible showing.”
“Thank you.”
Dane didn’t overdo it. He said, “Shall we?”
We each grabbed a club from our cart and warmed up, me putting and the guys pitching and chipping. At ten o’clock, we hit the first tee. Dane and Ethan demonstrated impressive drives, though my dad edged them both out by several yards on the fairway. I smiled inwardly. Dane would naturally draw out my father’s competitive side and it’d be fun to see him so into his game again.
I teed up last, from the women’s ledge, and my ball landed not too far from Ethan’s.
Dane grinned. “Excellent swing, Miss DeMille.”
I smirked, since no one could see it as I sauntered past him. “Smart-ass,” I whispered. “Call me Ari.”
“That’s not exactly what I want to call you, either.”
Baby popped into my head. A thrill ran down my spine. “Don’t you dare!” My cheeks flamed.
He chuckled. “Just keeping the ball in my court.”
So he was on a power trip … because I’d been poking and prodding?
I joined my dad in our cart and we were off.
The tracks ran fast and I had to adjust my game a bit to accommodate the challenging fairways. It was a fabulous course. Although I was a bit disgruntled over the strokes I racked up, I said at one point, “This is almost on par with the Robert Trent Jones Golf Club on Lake Manassas.”
“You’ve played his Virginia course?” Dane asked, looking duly impressed.
