by Maria Luis
She looked so damn pleased with herself.
Time to kill dreams.
He wrapped his hand around the grip of his cane and swung it to the floor. “I don’t think so.”
But then, this woman who didn’t know him from a hole in the wall seemed to know him well enough because she uttered the words that Luke had never been able to resist:
“I dare you.”
Jesus, he was thirty-one years old and still the temptation of competition was irresistible.
Hadn’t he learned that in Iraq, when a stupid football game and an even stupider Trinket had landed him in his current mess?
Hadn’t he learned that in high school, when he’d gone all out in football?
Luke had shit when it came down to experience in an office setting, but football trophies? Accolades he’d been awarded in the army?
He was filthy rich.
He glanced over at Blondie, who seemed determined to throw his life into upheaval. He still didn’t even know her name. New Orleans was small, but he’d spent the last thirteen years everywhere else in the world but here in his hometown. Maybe that was part of the fun. He didn’t know her. She didn’t know him.
Whatever this secret game was would go no further than the two of them.
“What are the terms?” he asked.
Drunk or not, she had enough self-control that, other than a slight lift of her lips, she didn’t parade her win. She steepled her fingers together, and Luke had the sudden vision of her as the mastermind behind an entire empire.
He could see it.
The slim dress, the high-as-hell heels. Even the blonde bun seated crookedly on the top of her head seemed perfectly controlled. Whoever Blondie was, he doubted that she was a woman people wanted to cross.
“Let’s do this over three weeks,” she said, drawing his gaze down to her mouth when she flicked her tongue out again to wet her lips. “Two dates per week, one set up by you and the other by me. We’ll have them here, at Tuck’s.”
“And I reach out to you for the date setups, how . . .?”
She grabbed a stray napkin, dug around in her purse, and revealed a pen. Blonde tendrils escaped their confines when she shifted forward and scrawled across the white square napkin.
She slid it across the table, and he glanced down to find her number penned in perfect feminine script. Above her digits, she’d written, “You owe me three men.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Careful, otherwise I might be mistaken for your pimp.”
“You’re setting me up on first dates,” she told him with an eye-roll, “not sex escapades.”
“In my experience, first dates generally lead to sex escapades.” Luke spread his arms along the back of the booth. “Sex marathons, really.”
She shook her head. “Not for me. It’s not just me . . .” Glancing at him, she shrugged her shoulders as though she’d come to a decision in her head. “I have a son. He’s fourteen.”
Never one to mince words, Luke asked, “How old are you?”
She flushed prettily, once more proving his initial thought that she looked ethereal. Even if he was interested—and he wasn’t—a woman like Blondie couldn’t handle him. That was fact.
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age?”
“I’m thirty-one.”
She fiddled with the pen, then lifted her gaze to meet his boldly. “Thirty-two. I had my son when I was eighteen.”
She said it with no hint of shame. Not that she should feel any. There were lots of women out there who had children in their teens. A lot of fathers, too.
“My mom was sixteen when she had me and eighteen when she had my younger sister,” he said abruptly. It wasn’t something he shared with a lot of people, mainly because he knew it hurt Moira anytime her absentee husband was mentioned, but with this woman whom he didn’t know . . . It felt oddly right.
Good timing, maybe.
A look passed between them that Luke couldn’t even pretend to understand. With a small nod, she gathered her purse and phone off the table.
Luke was strangely reluctant to let her go. “So, this week,” he blurted, “for your first date?”
Still seated, he looked up to meet her gaze.
“You’re up to bat first,” she said, tapping on the napkin she’d slid to him. “I can do any night but Wednesday. My son has a football game.”
He wondered if her kid was any good.
Luke had been the All-Star tight end in high school for three years running. Only Brady had ever one-upped him, but Brady had played for a school in a different district, and so their rivalry had been quarantined to makeshift games at the park with the other neighborhood kids.
He caught her wrist just as she started to pull back. Her blue eyes jumped to his, and he didn’t dare pause to read the emotion swirling in their depths. “And the winner?” he murmured. “After this whole thing is over, what does the winner get?”
“Whatever they want.”
A dangerous offer, and one Luke refused to ponder.
He released her hand, silently watching as she skirted around a table of college-age kids before he remembered—
“Hey,” he called out, thanking God when she turned back around, “you shouldn’t drive home.”
Her mouth lifted in a half-grin. “Don’t worry, Luke, I’m taking a cab.”
That was good. Now that he’d been roped into this bet, he’d rather that she not crash on the way—
Hold up.
How had she known his name?
He grappled with his cane, gritty curse words escaping him as he lurched around tables and out to the front of the bar. How the hell had she known his name? He hadn’t mentioned it, hadn’t said anything. He certainly hadn’t pulled out his wallet, so there wasn’t a chance she’d caught a glimpse of an I.D. or credit card.
He shoved the front door open with his good foot and stepped out into the cool November breeze.
She was gone.
6
“Go, baby! Run!”
Shaelyn elbowed her boyfriend, Brady Taylor, and pointed at Anna, who’d leapt to her feet to cheer on Julian. “There are two types of mothers in the world,” Shaelyn said loudly enough for Anna to hear over the crowd, “crazy football moms and non-football crazy moms.”
“Which one are you going to be?” Brady asked, dropping an arm around his girlfriend. “Wait, don’t tell me.”
Anna’s cousin flashed Brady a sly smile and patted his knee. “You won’t have to worry. Our children will never play football.”
One row below them, Nathan Danvers whipped around to stare at Shaelyn in horror. “This is Louisiana,” he said, as though that explained everything. Anna agreed with him—football was the only king that reigned in Louisiana.
“I know,” chirped Shaelyn, before tapping Jade on the arm. “What do you think? You with me on this no-football thing?”
Jade glanced at her significant other. “You know how much I love you, right, Shae?”
“Don’t give in.”
“It’s football, sweetheart,” Brady implored, “it’s in our blood.”
“It’s not in my blood,” Shaelyn said, and then winked at Anna’s surprise. Of course. Shaelyn Lawrence was the Queen of Jokes—sometimes it was easy to forget that the petite, curvy woman had taught Julian everything he knew.
Speaking of Julian . . .
Anna turned back to the game just as Julian made a touchdown, and she threw her fists up in the air and whistled. Down on the field, sunlight glinted off her son’s helmet as he found her in the stands—in her regular spot—and flashed her a thumbs-up.
Their tradition for every time he scored a touchdown—one they’d started when he was seven years old and playing ball for the first time.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Anna clambered back into her seating position on the metal bleachers, motioning to the field. “Did y’all see that? Sixty-one yards.”
Shaelyn leaned over and lo
udly whispered to their friends, “See? This is what football does to a person. I’m crazy enough as it is without adding the whole sports thing.”
They all laughed because it was true.
While Anna wouldn’t consider herself athletic by any means, she’d forced her untrained body to learn over the years. Julian had wanted a dad to play ball with in the yard. So, Anna became both the father and mother figure in the house, and she had enough broken manicures to prove that Julian’s life wasn’t lacking in any way.
But it did bring in the question of dating. And, more importantly, of Luke O’Connor.
Almost a week had passed since they’d last seen each other at Tuck’s—a week of replaying their meeting from start to finish as she folded clothes, stocked the shelves, cooked dinner. Boldness came to Anna easily with La Parisienne. She could cut deals with distributors, write contracts on the fly, and find the perfect set of lingerie for anyone within minutes.
When it came to the opposite sex, though, “bold” wasn’t a word in Anna’s vocabulary, and she could hardly believe that she’d actually propositioned Luke O’Connor to find her a date.
Or that she’d practically asked him to take her to bed.
The only reason she hadn’t crumpled in utter embarrassment had been because of the look in his eyes. She wouldn’t pretend that she knew him, but the coolness in his green gaze had seemed . . . forced.
During the rare occasions that he’d let down his guard, the warmth he radiated had lit her aflame. She’d wanted him, and she hadn’t bothered to hide the fact at all. But she also wanted a man who would treat Julian kindly, who wanted more from her than a quick fling, and she believed him fully when he had said he wasn’t interested in dating.
Anna wasn’t about to set herself up for heartbreak, but she was incredibly intrigued to meet the first man Luke had found for her. He’d sent her a quick text yesterday asking if she was free Thursday night.
Her second date in a week, and she’d be meeting this Mr. Aaron Capton tomorrow.
“Jade told me you went on a date the other night?” Danvers asked, drawing Anna’s attention away from her own thoughts. “How did it go? Wedding bells ringing yet?”
Once upon a time, Anna had hoped she and the homicide detective might get together. With his dark, messy hair and pewter-gray eyes, Nathan Danvers was the all-around package deal. Funny. Kind. Hot as hell.
But then he’d met Jade, and Anna had quickly faced the reality that she and Danvers were no more than friends.
She gave him a wry smile. “Let’s not pretend that Jade didn’t tell you everything already.”
“I would never!” Jade exclaimed, though her olive-hued complexion did nothing to hide her blush. Then her shoulders slumped and she offered Anna an apologetic smile. “I couldn’t help it. After you told Shae and me everything, I just . . . caved when he asked.”
Anna couldn’t blame her. It was pretty funny.
“In case any of you are wondering, Julian suffered dearly for his actions.”
“You got rid of his Xbox?” Brady asked, sharing an impressed glance with Danvers. “We’ve got Mom of the Year over here.” He nudged Shae in the side. “Take notes, sweetheart. We’ve got big shoes to fill when we start popping out children.”
Shaelyn sent him a wicked smile. “Oh, he’s still got his Xbox.” Pointing at Anna, she prompted, “Tell them what you did.”
Anna grinned. “I brought him to his grandmother’s house.”
Each one of them visibly winced.
Jade lifted her hand. “I just want to say that the one time I met your mom, I thanked God that He gave me Lucia Margarita Harper for at least three days straight.”
“It’s true,” Danvers put in. “I’ve never seen her Skype with her mom so many days in a row. It was impressive, even if Señora Harper did tell me for the hundredth time that she wished I was Cuban.”
Jade patted his cheek. “She’s got no room to talk. My dad isn’t Cuban.”
“Yeah, well, pretty sure your dad is just thankful I’m not one of Rita’s types.”
Having heard the stories of Jade’s older sister, even Anna had to giggle at that. Whether she was bringing home millionaire doctors or sleeping with her pool boy, Rita Harper’s love life was never boring.
Jade switched her attention over to Anna. “Julian’s okay, though? Not feeling any lasting effects of Grandma Dorothy?”
Dorothy Bryce wasn’t nearly as bad as everyone, including Julian, made her out to be. In fact, there was nothing awful about Anna’s mother, except for the fact that she and Anna’s dad, Joe, traveled extensively. It seemed that as soon as Julian had hit the fifth grade, they’d decided Anna could handle everything.
Her parents had sold their home, bought a condo in the French Quarter, and taken off to parts of the world that Anna only knew about from watching the Travel Channel. They returned to New Orleans every so often, about two times a year, and when they did, Dorothy Bryce flipped on the grandma switch.
Julian went from having almost no contact with his grandparents all year to having the woman dote on him nonstop for weeks. It’d be a lot for any teenager to handle, which was why the day after the Date Fiasco, she’d informed Jules she had a surprise for him.
The surprise being Dorothy Bryce, who was all too happy to sit Julian down at the kitchen table and talk his ear off for four hours straight.
Payback was such a lovely thing.
“He’s good,” Anna said in answer to Jade’s question. “And if he’s not, he’ll have more time with Grandma Dorothy tomorrow when I go on another date.”
“Ooo, savage,” Shaelyn murmured, which made Brady and Danvers trade looks of pain. In typical Shae fashion, she ignored the men and scooted close to Anna on the metal bleacher. “So, this date? Who is he?”
“Okay,” Brady announced, “I think that’s our cue to take a walk, Danvers.”
Danvers hauled his big body off the bench. “Let’s do this. I’m feeling the need for a corn dog.”
As the two men headed off to the concession stands, their girlfriends didn’t even bother to hide their excitement.
“So?” Shae poked Anna in the leg. “Give us a name, girl.”
“Aaron.”
“Last name?” Jade pressed. “I can have Nathan look him up. Make sure there aren’t any dead bodies hiding in his closet.”
Anna steeled her body against a flinch. The other woman had no idea how close she’d come to hitting on the truth about Anna’s previous boyfriend. Not about Aaron, but about . . .
She took a deep breath, her gaze finding Jules on the field. All of that was in the past. There was no point drudging up the painful memory right now.
“Anna?”
Her gaze swung to her cousin, who for once was quiet and laying off the sass. They exchanged a look of understanding, and Anna gave a quick nod. Everything was just fine.
She forced a smile for her friends. “I think we can leave the police talk out of this. Let’s just hope tomorrow’s date goes better than the last one.”
“Where’d you meet him?” Jade asked. “At the boutique?”
Shaelyn snorted. “If she met him there, I’d say there’s definite cause to be nervous. The only guys who come into La Parisienne are either married, gay or transitioning.”
“Like, they’re engaged?”
Poor girl, Anna thought. She still hadn’t lived in New Orleans long enough to recognize all of its ins and outs, literally. “No, Shae’s talking about men who are transitioning to become a woman.”
“Oh. Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Jade looked up at Anna. “So, obviously you didn’t meet him at the boutique.”
She bit her lip. While Anna wanted to confess to meeting Luke, something held her back. She certainly didn’t understand what made her want to keep their unconventional relationship to herself. Plus, it was only a matter of time before Luke discovered her identity.
He was Brady’s best friend, after all.
You want him to figure it out on his own.
She hadn’t recognized him, not right off the bat. Growing up, she and Shaelyn hadn’t been close at all. Best friends with Brady or not, it wasn’t Luke’s friendship with Shae’s boyfriend that had sparked Anna’s memory but rather high school. Even though she’d been a grade above him, Anna had been a cheerleader—it went without saying that she’d passed the district’s hottest tight-end at house parties or in the hallways of De La Salle.
And he’d changed. Age had made him harder, broader . . . surlier, if she were being honest.
Had he recognized her?
In a small city like New Orleans, that anonymity wouldn’t last long. She might as well enjoy it while she could.
“It’s a blind date,” she told her friends. “We were set up by a mutual friend.”
“Well, hopefully this mutual friend is someone you can trust not to screw you over,” Shae said with a side-eye glance.
Anna hoped so too.
“If it doesn’t work out, there’s someone at my work you might find interesting,” Jade said, pulling her long black hair into a ponytail. “He’s nice. Cute in that nerdy kind of way.”
Anna perked up. “I like nerdy.”
Nerdy was much better than lusting after Luke O’Connor, a man who wasn’t interested.
Lifting a disbelieving brow, Shaelyn said, “Girl, your celebrity crush is Joe Manganiello.”
“I can have multiple types. Joe Manganiello is the let-me-do-naughty-things-to-you type of guy.”
“And the cute, nerdy guy is . . .?”
Anna shifted on the bleacher uncomfortably. “The marrying kind?”
“I’m dating a Joe,” Jade piped up. “Nathan is very . . . attractive. But he’s also a bit of a nerd.”
“That’s because your boyfriend is a unicorn among men,” Anna pointed out kindly. “His kind doesn’t exist out in the wild.”
“You know,” Shaelyn murmured, “I used to say the same thing about you.”
Anna lifted a brow. “You thought I was a unicorn among men?”
