Page 60 of Play for Keeps

“Busy.”

He repeated the word as if the syllables were entirely new to his vocabulary. In all fairness, rejection was probably an unfamiliar concept. After all, he’d been married for a few years, and she’d bet he hadn’t struck out often on the dating scene when he was single. But she wasn’t the kind of woman who invited assumptions on her time or her person. If he wanted to spend time with her, the man was going to have to figure that out sooner rather than later. She spotted her bra half-hidden under the bench at the foot of the giant bed and stooped to retrieve it.

“I’m sorry. Did something happen?” Ty took another step in her direction but stopped when she popped up, the expensive bits of lace and satin crushed in her hand. He cocked his head, a look of baffled bewilderment overtaking his expression. “Are you mad at me?”

“Nope.”

He blew out a breath. “Well, that was convincing.”

Shrugging into the bra, she avoided his gaze as she untwisted the straps. “We’ve had the conversation about presumptions before. You don’t dictate my time, Ty. You don’t get to assume I want to have dinner with you tonight.”

He let loose with another exasperated breath. “Sorry.”

He bit the word off. The fixer in her wanted to stop him before he went a word further and point out all the tactical errors he was making, but the woman in her wasn’t about to buy the man a clue if he didn’t already own one. A teeny part of her felt sorry for the oblivious creature when he went on in a manner several shades short of placating.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, Millicent?”

“No. Thank you.” She added the last bit with a saccharine-sweet smile. “I have other plans.”

“Other plans to do what?” he persisted.

All shreds of sympathy gone, she pulled on her blouse and started buttoning. “Well, first I plan to make a list of all the things I do that are none of your damn business.”

He was beside her in three long strides. His hand closed around her elbow, stilling her motions.

Her gaze flew to his. “Okay, so presumption, sarcasm, and effrontery haven’t been effective tools. Are we resorting to physical intimidation now?”

As expected, he released her before she could draw her next breath, but he didn’t step away. Millie added a point to the deficit he’d been running. She admired a man who stood his ground.

“I’m not trying to intimidate you, nor do I mean to make presumptions.”

“God, it’s sexy when you look all muscly jock guy, but then you use your fifty-cent words,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him in a way that could only be construed as mocking.

“They were your vocabulary words, Mil. I was only trying to explain myself,” he retorted.

“And doing a really crappy job.”

“I don’t know why I have to explain at all,” he cried. Throwing his hands in the air, he spun away from her and stalked to the dresser. “All I wanted to do was have dinner with you.”

She watched as he yanked a gray athletic department T-shirt from the drawer and shook the wrinkles from the fabric. “Are you afraid of being alone or something?” she asked.

His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. “What?”

Millie shrugged, then bent to grab her pants from the floor. Without pausing to give the wrinkles a second thought, she plunged one foot into a twisted leg opening. Beyond caring about how graceless she might look, she stumbled around until she got the other leg lined up and then gave a couple of good hops to yank them into place.

“Look at you. You’ve been divorced less than a week, and you’re trying to line up a date for every night.”

“I’m not lining up dates. I’m trying to be with you.”

“Right, because I am the date du jour,” she said, fastening the waistband.

He paused, the sleeves wrapped around his thick biceps but the body of the shirt suspended above his head. He blinked, then gave his head a dismissive shake before he pulled the shirt down over his head. “Christ, you must really have a low opinion of yourself.”

The commentary was muffled, but his meaning was unmistakable. Millie smirked at the implication. Fully clothed, she felt more prepared to see this battle through to its inevitable end. She opened her mouth to blast him, and his phone went off again. Annoyed, she crossed her arms over her chest and jerked her chin toward the nightstand. “Your ex-wife is calling again. Why don’t you answer? Maybe you can get her to go for a nice, juicy steak with you.”

He spared the phone a quick glance, then grimaced. “No.”

His too-quick answer made her realize he knew exactly who was calling. She kept the smirk firmly in place as she strolled toward the bedroom door where her shoes lay cast aside, but only because she was worried her chin might wobble if she didn’t. “Ah, been there, done that?”

---