Hitting the Mark

That was a point in her favor because she was a lot of things, but sweet wasn’t one of them.

“You’re a student?” he asked. “I noticed your book.”

“I’m going to court reporting school at night. I wait tables during the day. Wednesday is my free day.”

“You work at one of the casinos?”

Danni almost coughed. As if she wouldn’t immediately be “escorted” out of any casino. “No, a diner. What about you? You mentioned a hotel?”

“I only recently moved to Reno. The company’s putting me up in a hotel until I can find my own place.”

That explained the corporate haircut. That explained a lot of things.

“What is it that you—” The waitress interrupted her question when she placed the cheesecake on the table.

How could anyone talk with this tasty bit of heaven between them? Chocolate cookie crust, a scrumptious white chocolate ganache with a dark chocolate spiderweb design. With eager anticipation, Danni took a bite. She immediately closed her eyes and moaned. Ahhh, those spiders were always offering something bad for you. It was the ultimate in chocolate indulgence. The creaminess of the cheesecake melted in her mouth.

“That good, huh?” he asked, his voice tight.

Danni opened her eyes and met his gaze. Oh, yeah, there was fire and heat in his eyes. The only thing that could take her mind off the best tasting thing on the planet was sitting right in front of her. Had she ever been this attracted to a guy this quickly?

“Want a bite?” she asked, her voice turning low and husky.

“Sure.”

“I thought you weren’t one for sweet things.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

She cut off a portion of her cheesecake and reached across the table. His brown eyes never left hers as his mouth took the chocolate from her fork, his lips touching where hers had been. His gaze became intense as he savored the mouthful. “I could really get used to that,” he said.

A shiver ran down her spine. They weren’t talking about dessert.

“How is it?” their waitress asked, returning to slide the check facedown on the table toward Danni.

“It’s excellent,” Danni replied. “Why don’t you bring us another piece?”

Eric shook his head, glancing down at his watch. “Actually, I have to go.”

Disappointment made the cheesecake lose its flavor. She looked at the waitress. “Bring it to go.”

Eric shook his head as if to clear it. An odd tenseness seemed to enter his body. His back seemed more rigid, his hands falling to his sides. “You don’t have to do that,” he told her. This was no polite I-really-want-you-to kind of refusal.

“No, I want to.”

“Thanks,” he said, reclining in his seat, the warmth and humor is his eyes gone. What had she done?

So here it was. The brush-off. His body language couldn’t be more evident if he’d crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Eric shifted in his chair. And yes, there was the arm cross. Maybe that hot chemistry she felt wasn’t mutual at all.

“How about you give me your phone number. I’ll call you,” Eric said.

His lips were moving, but his actions didn’t fit with the words. He made no move to whip out a pen or a piece of paper. She was putting an end to this here and now. In fact, she would take the to-go cheesecake, too.

“Listen, I know ‘I’ll call you’ is the male equivalent of ‘let’s be friends.’ We don’t have to go through that scenario.”

Eric uncrossed his arms and leaned into the table. There it was again. That sense of danger. That zip of attraction she felt between them. His eyes grew hooded. “I want your number, Danni.”

If he’d said I want you naked, on this table, it couldn’t have been any less heated than how he’d said he wanted her number. She could feel goose bumps along her arms. And her legs. And even on her ears. He was better than cheesecake.

Against her instinct, she opened her purse and took out a pen and a piece of paper. She also slid Eric’s five dollars and enough extra cash to cover the bill, plus tip, onto the table.

“You know what?” he began. “In any other circumstance, I’d hand back a woman’s money and use my card. But I’m willing to bet you’d instantly consider me just like every other guy you’ve met, wouldn’t you? Traditional. Boring. So, all right. I’ll let you pay for my coffee, and I’m gonna enjoy it.”

This man so did it for her. After scribbling her name and number onto the paper, she handed it to Eric.

His fingers brushed against hers. She ignored the tingles he gave her with such a simple touch. “That telephone number expires after two days. No waiting to call me to whet my appetite. No game playing. If you want to see me again, you just say so.”

Eric took the paper from her and pocketed the number in his shirt. Not a hint of his thoughts registered on his face. How frustrating. With a nod, she got up and left, walking quickly to her car.

As she slammed the key into the ignition, she realized she’d left the cheesecake behind.

WITH HER LAUNDRY DONE, Danni steered her car toward the highway ready to take the forty-minute drive to Carson City. Wednesday afternoons were reserved for her dad. She owed him that much. Or so he kept reminding her.

The halfway house was a lot better than the visiting rooms courtesy of Nevada’s prison system, but since most of her teachers predicted she’d wind up as one of Nevada’s “guests” herself, it was no wonder she felt uncomfortable there. That and the fact that any lawenforcement official automatically made her uneasy. Dad said it was in the genes. And some days she believed him.

She found her father tending one of the small gardens at the back of the house. If anyone had bet her a thousand dollars that Daniel Flynn would enjoy getting his hands dirty, she would have upped the ante and called them a sucker.

But she’d be the one paying because her dear old dad had taken a keen interest in horticulture, and she did have to admit, the deep purple flowers he’d coaxed to bloom under the hot Nevada sun thrived. He’d even sent her home with a sack of fresh snap peas once. Yeah, there was another ironic observation there, but it was too hot outside to make it right now.

She dumped her backpack on the ground next to her father. “Hi, Dad. I got the book on plants in dry soils you wanted.”

Her father looked up, squinting in the sunlight. “Danielle, my love. That’s the first thing you say to me? No, I missed you? Come give your da a kiss.”

“Ah, so we’re Irish today,” she said, good-naturedly.

“Never discount the importance of an authentic-sounding accent. Those of the British Isles are especially good about not sounding cheap. Let’s hear your Scottish.”

Danni merely shook her head. Growing up, there were Irish Days. Russian Days. Australian Days. All great fun when a person is eight and before men in uniforms with real cop accents knock on the door.

She unfolded the pamphlet she’d stuffed in her back pocket and placed a kiss on his cheek. “This is the information about the horticulture classes at the community college. There’s still time to enroll.”

“Ahhh, like your dear old ma, trying to set my feet on the straight and narrow path.” Her dad’s eyes twinkled. After her mother died, those blue eyes of his had led many a woman on the wavy and broad path to sin.

“Just humor me and take the pamphlet.”

Her dad took the flyer and stored it in his gardener’s bucket. He nodded sadly. “I may have to find legitimate work. With the Internet now, it makes it harder to run a good con. Everybody’s a cynic.”

“Yeah, that’s a real bummer, Dad.”

Humor entered her father’s famous blue eyes. “Now that I think about it, something on the Internet might be the ticket.”

Danni frowned. “Dad, you’re in this halfway house for a reason. It’s not supposed to be halfway between jail and crime. It’s halfway between you and making straight with your life.”

The lightness between them vanished, and a thoughtful look passed across her father’s face. “Don’t worry about me, Danni-bear. I won’t put you through that again.”

Silence stretched between them. Seven years they’d been caught by circumstances determined to crush them. The night that had sent each of them on their current course.

Her father stood and clutched her hand. “Come and sit with me under the tree. It’s cooler. Tell me what you did today.”

He led her to the picnic table some ex-con had thought would be funny to paint in black and white stripes. “Actually, I’ve met someone.”

“You did?”

“His name is Eric Reynolds.”

“That name sounds made up,” he said, waving his hand.

“Daddy, not everyone’s like us. I met him at the laundry. He needed to borrow a dryer sheet.”

Daniel Flynn rolled his eyes. “That’s weak. Dump him. If a man isn’t willing to go to more trouble to impress you, you don’t need him.”

“I thought so, too. So I charged him a buck.”

“There’s my girl.” Pride laced her father’s voice.

“But all he had was a five, so I took all of it. I felt bad about it later, and I ended up buying him a cup of coffee and some cheesecake.”

Her father’s lips twisted. “Let me get this straight. He got you to buy him a drink, some cheesecake, which by the way I’m surprised you didn’t wrestle him for, and dryer sheets?”

“He did pay me for those.” And she came close to wrestling him for the cheesecake.

“Did you spend more than five dollars on him?” her father asked, frowning.

“Yes.”

“I take it back, it’s not weak. He’s brilliant.”

Danni couldn’t help it, she grinned. “Dad, he’s not a con man. Not everyone looks at things the way you do.”

Daniel sat on the bench. “I don’t know why I bother giving you advice. I taught you skills, which you turn your back on, and now you’re studying. Studying is bad enough, but what’re you studying? Law…It’s too painful for me to even finish the thought. Now you’re getting taken by a man. Maybe you’re more like your mother than I thought.”

“And you love me for it,” she told him as she gave him a hug.

“More than you’ll ever know.”

THE PHONE WAS NOT RINGING as she keyed into her apartment. Not a good sign. Had Danni been expecting it to? Hmm, yes, she had.

Hoping, at least.

Dropping her purse by the door, and hooking her keys on the bulletin board, she made a big production of setting the laundry basket on the kitchen table while not taking the trouble to see if the red light on her answering machine was flashing. She was not the kind of woman who waited around to see if a man called her.

Still, in the end, she looked at the machine anyway.

The red light was flashing. The muscles between her shoulders tightened. Might not be him. Could be a telemarketer. Could be a charity looking for a donation.

Two messages. Surely one of them was Eric.

“Hi, Danni, it’s Cassie. Wanted to see how the coff—”

Skip.

She smiled as the voice of her second caller filled her tiny kitchen. Six words. Six words she replayed at least three times. “I want to see you again.”

2

TO BE HONEST, Danni wasn’t one for dating. From seventeen until twenty the only one-on-one time she’d spent with a male had been with her lawyer. So when other girls her age were learning the rules of dating, refining their flirtation skills, honing their allurement proficiency, she was left alone on her bunk with her notebook.

She’d write for hours in that notebook. Things she wanted to do. Places she wanted to go. She’d developed lists. Lots and lots of lists. The list she reviewed most often was her dodge list. Men she planned to avoid. Ranking near the top of the list were men like her father. That ruled out anyone with charm and a glint in his eyes. Charisma times sexy eyes always equaled a girl in trouble.

Falling right below sweet talkers were the nice boys. First, what in the world could she possibly have in common with them? Nice boys usually came with nice moms, and she’d never pass that test. Plus, they held an aura of boredom.

Next—obviously no one with a criminal past. They’d probably wind up with some kind of one-upmanship thing going on, and that would just be weird.

Anyone wanting to “save” her was also out. Savers usually had more problems than she did, and that was a lot of dysfunction.

Around her nineteenth birthday, Danni realized her list of “not wants” left her with a negative vibe. So she restarted her list to catalog the qualities she wanted. To her surprise, she found she required only three.

Must have a job. Yes, very good start. Very unlike her dad.

Must be driven. Ambition never hurt anyone. Also very unlike her dad.

And be a decent person. That was where Danni always got stuck. Aside from the robbing and stealing, her father was fairly decent. It’s not as if he’d go and kick a dog or anything. He did have a code—his code—by which he lived. But she wanted someone, who at his core, had principles. Principles that didn’t come with a string of option-out clauses.

So, who did that leave her with? Corporate men and musicians.

She’d struck out royally with the musicians. On the face of it, they seemed to be her ideal. Driven, sort of had a job, and they were sometimes decent, even sensitive. But in the end, their life was all about their music. Their next gig. And could she spot them some money to buy a new amp?

Since the corporate men weren’t clamoring at her door to get the girl with a past and a rap sheet, her dating experience had ended there.

Despite him allowing her to pay, Eric seemed corporate. She almost hated to go out with him since this would be her last shot of keeping the corporate fantasy alive. Maybe it would be better to not ever know. If this date failed, where would she be? Did she have the stomach to start her lists all over again? Or never date? Both sounded okay and terrifying at the same time.

Her doorbell rang, and she moved slowly, her fingers stilled on the doorknob. This was it. Her chance to see if corporate worked for her.

She’d told Eric no game-playing, so she opted to be ready on time. He’d told her nice casual. And thank goodness because all the designer stuff was at the dry cleaners. So she greeted him on Sunday evening in black capris and a beaded green tank with a black half-jacket for her shoulders. And she had the shoes right for this play. Sandals, low heel so as not to be too provocative, but strappy to draw attention to her ankles, which for some reason men, be they loser or lawyer, seemed to like.

Her hair had been the problem. She wanted flirtatious and serious. Finally, Danni opted to leave her blond hair down her back with a few strands pulled up in clips.

Appreciation lit his dark eyes, and she let out a relieved breath. She hadn’t even realized she’d been nervous. Okay, lie. She just didn’t want to admit how very anxious she was. What she needed to do was to openly check him out. Put her focus on Eric.

Actually, he looked a lot better than she remembered. And she remembered him gorgeous. Navy pants, relaxed enough to be casual, tight enough to let her know he was a man. He didn’t appear nervous. Damn.

“You ready?” he asked. She’d forgotten how sexy his voice was, too. Deep and rich and husky.

She nodded, slipping the strap of her spangly purse over her shoulder. “So, where are you taking me?”

He pulled the door shut behind her, turning the handle to make sure it was locked. Then his hand fell to the small of her back. Warmth from his fingers seeped through the thin cotton of her tank.

“One of my coworkers recommended a dinner club. The singer there is amazing.”

Was liking music a bad sign? “Did you ever want to be a musician?”

He shook his head, and gave her a strange sidelong glance. “No. Why do you ask?”

Danni laughed. “No reason. Never mind.” Corporate. Definitely corporate.

Fifteen minutes later they were seated and facing one another as they had at the coffee shop. She sized up the restaurant in moments. Moderate to upper level in price range. Couples mainly. Management probably dealt more in credit cards, not a lot of cash in the till. The real money was probably in the register at the bar. And there was a delicious smell of cheese and artichoke dip in the air.

Hmm, probably assessing where the cash was kept did not indicate ideal first-date behavior. Danni grew ill at ease.

Feeling awkward was a new one for her. As the roper in her father’s schemes, she’d always been highly familiar with her mark, prepared for every situation. Should she approach Eric like that, see him as the mark? Except she hadn’t put in the practice time or the research to really know him.

The only advice she had came from Cassie. Her friend’s few choice words of wisdom had been to stay with neutral topics. Keep the conversation going. Avoid long silences.

The silence between them now was stretching to near Olympic proportion. She shifted in her seat.

“So tell me, Danni, have you dated much?”

Good Lord, could he tell she was a rookie? Was she that bad at first dates? She’d almost choked on her water.

Eric continued. “You didn’t leave me waiting on the couch in your apartment. You haven’t asked one hypothetical question, and no coy hair flip.”

“Coy hair flip?” she asked, very curious.

“You sort of toss your hair over your shoulder and look at me from the corner of your eye.”

As long as he was passing out pointers, she’d give it a try. Danni rotated her shoulders and tossed her hair, never breaking eye contact. “Like this?”

The smile had left his face. “Uh. Exactly like that.”

His words were slow, deeper than before. Serious heat burned in his brown eyes.

Maybe corporate was the ticket. No musician had ever looked at her this way. Like he wouldn’t mind completely crashing the table between them. And yes, right on schedule, there were the nerves.

Get it together. She couldn’t let him get the upper hand. Playing it light should work. Don’t make it mean much.

“I have to admit, I haven’t dated a lot,” she told him, her finger tracing the rim of her glass. She met his gaze. “So tell me more of what I should be doing.”

Eric glanced at his watch. “Well, right about now, you’re telling me what big muscles I have.”

Danni laughed. “So that’s what girls normally do then, huh?”

“Yes. Along with wondering how quickly you can get me out of my pants.”

Hmm, there was charm. That was bad. Sweet talkers, aka charmers were off her list. But they were so…charming. She’d never associated corporate with charming before. They were supposed to be solid, not whimsical, certainly not witty.

“I thought it was the man who was supposed to be wondering how to get me out of my pants.”

But Eric just smiled, as if he had it all figured out.

The rest of their meal followed a predictable pattern of weather, sports and stuff. She never grew bored though. Her dad had always insisted suits were dull. He believed the nine-to-five life was a drag, and that Flynns were not cut out for the ordinary.

Too soon they’d paid the check and were strolling to the parking lot, toward his car for him to take her home.

Although Danni had limited experience with first dates, she could figure out that him wanting to take her home immediately was not a good sign.

“So that’s how first dates go,” she said.

“They can,” he replied, his voice filled with promise.

“What does that mean?” she asked glancing up. Man, oh man, he was great to look at. She’d kind of avoided it for most of the evening because she knew her eyes would probably want to eat him up like she had that chocolate cheesecake.

“Well, a first date can end here. Or maybe I can say something like, ‘Danni, since I’m new in town and don’t know what I can do in Reno for fun, do you have any ideas?’”

Danni laughed at his suddenly formal and stiff tone. Yes, that’s how she pictured a first date with a corporate suit kind of guy.

“And then you can say…” he prompted.

Fine, Danni understood now how this game worked. She wasn’t usually so slow on the uptake, but she chalked it up to her being distracted by his broad shoulders. Or the amazing way he smelled. Or the considerate way he adjusted his longer stride to her shorter steps.

She cleared her throat. “I can say, ‘Eric, you haven’t lived in Reno if you haven’t bowled.’”

The stiffness in Eric’s formal posture vanished and he laughed. “Bowling? Are you serious?”

“Hey, in Reno we take our bowling very seriously. And you’re no one in Reno if you haven’t bowled at least a frame in the Taj Majal of Tenpin.”

“And that would be here…in 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.