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“Poor Dean. Fending off all the women you’re meeting in the bars at night is pretty much a full-time job, isn’t it?” His calf grazed the side of her leg. “Just out of curiosity, why are you fending them off?”
“Not interested.”
Meaning they’re married or old. “So what was it like growing up the way you did?”
Sure enough, she’d broken the mood, and his brow furrowed. “It was just fine. I had a series of babysitters looking out for me until I went off to a very good boarding school. You’ll be disappointed to know I wasn’t beaten or starved there, and I also learned to play ball.”
“Did you ever see him?”
He snatched his beer back, which involved moving his leg away. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”
She wasn’t above a little subtle manipulation. “If it’s too painful…”
“Hardly. I didn’t even realize he was my father until I was thirteen. Before that, I thought the Boss had done the deed.”
“You thought Bruce Springsteen was your father?”
“April’s drunken fantasy. Too bad it wasn’t true.” He drained the bottle and set it on the floor with a clink.
“I can’t imagine her drunk. She’s so controlled now. Did Jack know about you from the beginning?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“That’s crappy. If April was an addict, shouldn’t he have been just a little worried about her pregnancy?”
“She cleaned up her act when she was pregnant. Probably hoping he’d marry her. Fat chance of that.” He rose and shoved his feet into his shoes. “Stop stalling. Let’s go.”
She rose reluctantly. “I mean it, Dean. No contact.”
“I’m starting to get offended.”
“No, you’re not. You just want to give me a hard time.”
“Speaking of hard…” He set his hand in the small of her back, just where it was most sensitive.
She moved a step away and gazed up at the front bedroom window. “The light’s out.”
“Mad Jack in bed by midnight. That’s gotta be a first.”
Her flip-flops squeaked in the damp grass. “You don’t look anything like him.”
“Thanks for the compliment, but there were blood tests.”
“I wasn’t insinuating—”
“Could we talk about something else?” He held the side door open for her. “Why you’re so afraid of sex, for example?”
“Only with you. I have an allergy to your beauty cream.”
His husky laugh drifted out into the warm Tennessee night.
By the time Dean came out of the bathroom, she was settled in bed. She pulled her eyes away from the noticeable bulge in his End Zone forest green knit boxers, but only got as far as his ridged abdomen and an arrow of golden hair pointing the way to Armageddon before he took in the enormous wall of pillows she’d arranged down the middle of the bed. “Don’t you think that’s a little childish?”
She dragged her gaze away from his Garden of Earthly Delights. “Stay on your side of the bed, and I’ll apologize in the morning.”
“If you think I’m going to let him see how juvenile you are, you’re wrong.” He spoke in a low whisper to avoid waking his unwanted houseguest.
“I’ll wake up early and tear it down,” she said, thinking about the one hundred dollars.
