Hitting the Mark. Jill MonroeЧитать онлайн книгу.
Reno?”
“Right. The National Bowling Stadium.”
At the car, Eric held the door open for her, but blocked her entrance. She turned to face him. His smile was so sexy it hurt to look at. “This I have to see.”
If she hadn’t been truly aware of the broadness of his shoulders or the strength that simply oozed from him before, she was conscious of it now. Bigness was an angle some con men used to intimidate a mark, so usually she was immune and it certainly never impressed.
But Eric’s imposing size made her want to be enfolded in his arms. Feel the strength of him as he pulled her close. Run her fingers along the hard lines of his chest.
He stepped back, his hand seeking hers as he helped her into the front seat, his fingers lightly caressing her hand, arm, shoulder as she slipped into the seat. There was one of those shivers again. Danni had to refrain from fanning her face after Eric shut the passenger door.
The bright lights and the silver plated bowling ball of the National Bowling Stadium soon greeted them. “Never thought I’d see a bowling alley lit up like a casino,” Eric said as he angled into a space.
“I told you we take our bowling seriously. Wait until you get inside. You have your choice. You can take the escalator or the glass elevator to the fourth floor.”
“By all means, we should take the elevator.”
As they stepped off the elevator, Eric let out a low whistle. “You were right. It’s impressive.”
Over seventy lanes stretched before them. “It’s longer than a football field.”
Large video screens displaying scores and graphics stood out predominantly. The smell of oil and the sound of pins hitting the wood surrounded them as they rented some shoes and chose a lane.
“Are you a good bowler?” he asked as they each picked up a ball and checked for the appropriate weight.
“My dad always took an interest in bowling. One of his first jobs was to manually set up pins and send the balls back. The ball returns here over thirty miles an hour.”
“Your dad live in Reno?”
Grrr. Why had she mentioned her father? She immediately felt a tension between her and Eric at the mere reference to him. All on her part of course, but surely he could feel it, too.
She shook her head. “No, he never visits here. Stop stalling, you ready?” she asked, infusing breeziness into her voice.
Eric selected a black ball, the first one he’d tried. “Not sure how good I’ll do, but I’m ready.”
“Remember, the trick is not to try to knock all the pins down on the first roll. Otherwise, the machine cheats you out of your second ball.”
He groaned. “And here I’ve been doing it all wrong. Thanks for the tip.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile.
In fact, Eric turned out to be a pretty decent bowler. While he didn’t make any strikes, he managed to clean up with a few spares. Her own approach was lousy, and she sent her ball to the gutter more times than she would have liked. But it wasn’t all bad. Every time she bent to retrieve her ball, she felt Eric’s brown gaze on her body. He was checking her out. So she put an extra wiggle in her step. That’s when he began missing his spares.
They finished their first game fairly quickly.
“For someone who claims to know a lot about bowling, you don’t bowl all that well,” Eric teased.
Danni looked up at the screen above their heads. She hadn’t even broken a hundred. Pathetic.
“Are you up for another round?” he asked.
“You know, Eric, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were egging me on just so you could beat me again.”
“No, it has everything to do with form.”
“Can’t tear your eyes off my backside, can you? Okay, I’ll give you another game…care to make it interesting?”
Now where had that come from? Had she actually suggested they bet on a bowling game? Old patterns. If he had the chance, her dad bet on which way the wind would blow. And he was always right.
“How about the winner chooses the next outing? And believe me, I won’t be choosing bowling,” he said, his voice lowered to a provocative timbre.
Next outing? Her stomach got all fluttery. Eric wanted to see her again. She wasn’t being a total dud on this date.
Eric stuck out his hand for a shake.
She stood and wrapped her fingers around his strong hand. “It’s a deal,” she told him. And she wouldn’t let the warmth of his hand, or the fact that it took him forever to let go distract her. No she wouldn’t. Because she was a professional.
Turning, Danni picked up her ball, blew into the finger holes and lined up her feet to the left of center. Her ball slammed into the pocket.
Strike.
Strike.
Strike.
“I’m being hustled, aren’t I?” Eric asked on the fifth frame.
“Being? Honey, past tense. You were hustled.” Yeah, old patterns. She hadn’t even realized until the sixth frame of their first game that she was deliberately throwing it. It had just been so ingrained.
“We’ll see,” he vowed. A gleam entered Eric’s gorgeous brown eyes. He stepped up and rolled his ball down the lane. All the pins fell on his first ball. Brooklyn style. But a strike was a strike. And he hit two more.
So it seemed she wasn’t the only one holding back. It was kind of sweet. It had become fairly obvious in the first few frames of their first game that she was lousy, so Eric had adjusted his own play so he wouldn’t blow her out of the water.
Awe. It almost made her feel guilty for what she was about to do. Almost.
Eric was on his approach to get the spare in the ninth frame when the gate suddenly closed and the sweep pushed the remaining two pins away. Eric turned to face her, glaring.
She quickly took a step away from the ball return. She raised her eyebrows in innocence. “Oh, was that me? I guess I accidentally pressed the reset button.” She added the coy hair flip for emphasis. “Sorry.”
His eyes narrowed farther, but his lips were lifting into a wry grin. “Yeah. I can see how that could happen.”
Danni finished the tenth frame in a series of three strikes, handily beating Eric. And not a sign of nerves.
He didn’t look mad that she’d hustled him. Instead, he seemed almost intrigued. Oh, yes, the theory on nice boys. They liked naughty girls.
“I guess I owe you,” he said.
“You can pay your debt with…ice cream.”
He sighed heavily. “More time with you. I guess I have to honor my word.”
A SHORT WHILE LATER they drove to an ice cream parlor close to many of Reno’s casinos, making what she assumed was normal first-date chitchat.
A woman could tell if a man would be a good lover by the kind of ice cream he ordered. Danni actually didn’t have an opinion on this, but a theory was forming in her mind.
If Eric chose standard-issue fair—chocolate, vanilla, strawberry—not a lot of adventure between the sheets. Oh, it wouldn’t be bad, not as if he ordered something with pineapple topping. That’s just yuck. She could never sleep with a man who ordered that. But if a man mixed two flavors she knew a little something more would be happening in the sex department.
Eric ordered mega-chocolate peanut butter swirl with nuts and marshmallows. Her nipples