Page 12 of Play for Keeps

“Oh!” He grasped the thread of the conversation and held on tight, tucking his chin to his chest as he chuckled at his own distractibility. “Yes. He’s good. Lives south of Sarasota. Plays golf three hundred days a year, likes to brag he has all his original manufacturer parts, and keeps a string of girlfriends who cook for him.”

“Good for him!”

Millie’s eyes crinkled when she smiled, and an attractive pair of brackets creased her cheeks when she grinned. Of all the things he liked about her, these two features were near the top of his list. And the great thing about Millie was that the list of her assets was long and not strictly physical. She was real. Completely without filler. Or filter, for that matter.

Mari couldn’t match his dad’s brag in terms of original parts. Ty had paid for the porcelain veneers and impressive rack himself. But what irked him more than external artifice was the way she embraced her “fake it till you make it” attitude. Hell, she’d even had a little sign on her bathroom wall saying that exact thing. Mari wasn’t one to work on improving herself. She preferred to pretend she was already all the things she wanted to be.

“My dad is actually flying out to Reno with some of his buddies. We’ll play a few rounds.”

It hadn’t taken him long to discover the charm and bravado Mari had displayed during their courtship was an act, but his father had figured it out right away. He and Mari never clicked, and Ty had been too oblivious to figure out why.

“That’ll be nice.”

“He’s a good man,” Ty said gruffly. “A smart one too—he’s letting me foot the bill.” Millie laughed, and Ty allowed his head to fall back as he wondered how the apple had fallen so far from the proverbial tree.

Behind the facade, his Mari was possibly the most insecure woman he’d ever met. Once, before one of the chancellor’s dinner parties, he’d found Mari standing in front of the mirror, practicing which smile she’d use with each conversational tidbit she’d memorized from that day’s news. At the time, he’d felt bad for her. In truth, it broke his heart a little. But when he tried to engage her in conversation about the same topics, she waved them off as boring and started rambling about her next redecorating project.

He smiled back at Millie, wishing their time alone could last. From the time she’d shown up at his sliding door, Millie had taken charge. Bullied him, really, but he didn’t mind too much. She was beautiful when she was bossy. Plus she seemed completely relaxed with him. He liked her ease. And he found her confidence intoxicating.

Though he was ashamed to admit how lonely he’d been in his marriage, Ty hadn’t realized exactly how much his and Millie’s easy camaraderie meant to him until he’d kissed her and all thoughts of comfort went flying out the door.

She’d been the first person to befriend him when he came to work at Wolcott. She’d helped smooth the way to a cordial relationship with Kate Snyder, the women’s basketball coach—a minor miracle, considering Ty’s hiring probably cost Kate her first marriage. Her ex had been considered the heir apparent for the job, and when he didn’t get the spot, he’d blamed Kate for not using her pull to make his promotion happen. Such bullshit. Still, Kate was happy now.

He was poised on the verge of telling Millie how much he loved the lines around her mouth, and her laugh, and the sharp tongue she wielded like a weapon, when the flight attendant appeared in the aisle.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” The young woman spared him a conspiratorial glance, then placed a perfectly manicured hand on Millie’s shoulder. “I’m going to need you to stow your bag. Would you like me to lift it for you?”

Millie looked up, incredulity written all over her face. Without taking her eyes off the woman, she gathered the long leather handles and made a show of trying to lift the tote from her lap. “Oh, no, thank you, dear,” she crooned. “I have this big, strong man to help me.” Ty barely had a chance to process what she’d said before she settled an imploring gaze on him. “What do you say, sweetie? Help your hot mama out, will you?”

The flight attendant split a perplexed look between them, then recovered her wide smile as she straightened. As if Millie had somehow disappeared, the girl turned her limpid gaze on Ty. “Wonderful. Well, if you or your mother need anything, you let me know.”

Millie gaped after the girl as she swayed toward the front of the cabin, astonishment shining in her wide eyes. Knowing there was nothing he could say to recover the situation, Ty simply took the tote bag from her grasp and placed it in the overhead compartment. Settling back in his seat, he buckled his seat belt low and snug across his hips, then rolled his head to look at her.

“I think I get my coloring from you, Ma.”

She huffed a laugh, then tugged on the end of her own seat belt. “Too bad you didn’t get my smarts, kiddo.”

They shared a smile, and he watched the last of her pique fade away. Not for the first time, he wondered if she truly was a redhead. She had the flash-fire temper of one, for sure. Mesmerized by the gleam of humor in her eyes, the question slipped out before he could censor himself. “What color’s your hair?”

One perfectly shaped eyebrow rose. “I think it’s called Strawberry Crushed.”

His ears burned with embarrassment, but he was in too deep to back out now. “I mean, for real.”

“I have a thousand inappropriate remarks running through my head right now, but I promised myself I wouldn’t work blue for the cheap laughs.”

He chuckled and glanced away, the heat traveling from his ears into his cheeks. “Sorry. I was curious.”

“Brown,” she said with a smirky little smile. “Plain old brown.”

“Nothing about you is plain.” He shifted a few precious inches closer to her as the clueless attendant took her place for their preflight instructions. He waited until the girl looked directly at him, then reached over and took Millie’s hand from her lap. “Or old,” he added. “Unless you were one of those medical miracles and gave birth at six.”

She looked down at their clasped hands. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“I bet you are.”

The quick response coaxed another smile from her. She started to extricate her hand, but he held firm. “Ty, this isn’t a good idea—”

“It’s the best idea.” When she attempted another escape, he pulled her hand over to rest on his thigh. “Takeoff scares me witless.” He held her gaze, unrelenting. “I need you to hold my hand so I don’t cry like a baby.”

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