Page 14 of Love on the Line

“How’s that?”

Not sure what to say, he took a step closer. She glanced up, and her eyes did that flicker thing, heating his blood. Licking her lips, her gaze dropped to his mouth. He might not know what was going on in that head of hers, but he knew desire when he saw it. At least it went both ways.

All or nothing. His gut said he had one more shot. The muscles in his neck bunched. This mattered. Why, he had no idea.

When he blew out a breath, her gaze flew back to his.

He softened his voice because he didn’t want to scare her off, which seemed like a real possibility. “I’m not getting my way because I’ve been kicking myself ever since I didn’t ask for your number at the bar. And now that we’ve spent some time together, I’m kicking myself even more.”

She gave the slightest shake of her head. “Wyatt, you seem like a nice guy, but—”

“I am. Give me a chance. All I’m asking is for one cup of coffee. Or tea. Or juice. Or whatever you want. No pressure, and if it doesn’t work out, I promise I’ll never bother you again.”

He held his breath.

She closed her eyes for a second, and then opened them. “Okay. I guess a guy who doesn’t want to disappoint his mother can’t be all bad.”

Yes. Virtual fist pump. “How about the diner on Main Street, Friday after school?”

She slowly nodded. “Sure.”

He dug his phone out and handed it to her. “Can I have your number in case anything changes?”

She hesitated, but took the phone and punched in a number. After handing it back, she dug her own out. “What’s your last name so I enter you alphabetically?”

Alphabetically? Most of his contacts were one-word nicknames—Bones, Jones, Jewels.

“Pearson.” He forced a straight face and waited for her reaction.

None.

Tension tightened his belly. She really didn’t know anything about him. He’d be starting fresh with her. Just a regular Joe. This woman didn’t care about his fame or fortune. Going back as far as he could remember, women came to him. He’d never had to pursue anyone. Hell, he’d sweated bullets trying to get Anne to agree to cup of coffee. Scratch that—tea. And if she didn’t even like sports, how would she ever understand him? Maybe he should stick to what he knew.

She slipped her phone back in her purse and held out her hand. “Anne Cooper.”

Her dimples popped when she smiled and gave him a firm shake.

His heart slid sideways as her face lit up once again. He couldn’t help but grin. “Now, can I walk you to your car?”

She squared her shoulders. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

This woman really didn’t want help from anyone. But she’d agreed to tea. That was a start.

“Okay, I’ll call you.” He wasn’t going to pressure her.

As Anne backed out, Wyatt’s phone vibrated with a text message.

Angela. Flight attendant and a hot Redskins cheerleader he hooked up with from time to time. “Angel” had no business being part of her name.

I’m back in town. Come to my place tonight?

Wyatt glanced up at the tail lights of Anne’s car leaving the parking garage. Since when did he not want to see Angela? Another first. He typed a quick note back. Sorry, can’t do. Maybe catch up another time?

She replied with two face emojis. A frown and a blowing-a-kiss.

What the hell had he gotten himself into? He never turned down Angela. He brought up his contacts and searched for Anne’s number.

Cooper, Anne.

Dynamite in a petite package. He shook his head, tapped edit, and changed her name to “mini-cooper.”

He had a feeling he might be in for a wild ride.

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