by Nancy Warren
“What’s the name of this group?” she yelled in Rock’s ear, holding on to her hair as the wind whipped it about like a possessed blow-dryer.
“The Swollen Members,” he yelled back.
“Oh,” she said in a small voice.
That was pretty much the sum of their conversation until they pulled into the crowded parking lot.
The bar was exactly the same as it had always been.
It was Harriet who was different.
As she walked in on the quarterback’s arm, she felt deliciously petite. And where, a few short weeks ago, she’d gazed in awe at the cheerleaders, she was now one of them.
The patrons hailed her and Rock as they entered the noisy bar and Harriet couldn’t stop the grin from stealing across her face.
Of course, there wasn’t much point being Cinderella waltzing in the arms of Prince Charming if there was no one to witness her transformation, so she glanced quickly around the bar to see if anyone from the Standard had made it yet.
Yes. There they were, at the same table they’d occupied last time. She noted a few bugging eyes and dropped jaws, then she encountered Steve Ackerman’s gaze, and her smug balloon popped and shriveled.
He looked murderous.
Except it wasn’t her he was glaring at with such heat she expected smoke to start billowing any second. It was Rock who held his attention.
Stunned, she glanced at Rock’s face and found him staring back at Steve with a nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah expression. Then Steve’s gaze shifted from Rock to her and she felt she’d let him down somehow. He gave her a quick nod of recognition, then went back to talking to Cherise, who was sitting across the table and giving him a whole lot more attention than she gave her crime beat.
Harriet was stunned. Surely the invisible battle she’d just witnessed, the flourishing of two testosterone-powered laser swords, wasn’t for her benefit?
But when Rock put a meaty arm around her shoulders and dragged her, not to the table where the rest of the cheerleaders were sitting, but toward Steve, she wasn’t so sure.
She tried to put on a relaxed, confident smile like the ones the other cheerleaders wore, resisting the urge to cover herself somehow to hide her skimpy clothing. But it wasn’t easy, especially now that she seemed to be the center of attention.
For once, being the invisible geeky girl seemed like heaven.
“Hi,” she said in the direction of the table, but was unable to stop her gaze from coming to rest on Steve’s angrily handsome face.
10
“WE MISSED YOU at the practice, Harriet,” Steve said when they got closer.
Of course, he’d known she’d have to miss a lot of the practices, maybe even the tournament itself because of her cheerleading schedule, but it didn’t make her feel any better to be reminded of it. And of how much fun she was missing.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. I’d still like to be on the team if you let me. I checked the schedule. I should be able to make most of the games.”
He shrugged. “Up to you.”
She couldn’t believe how much she wanted a reappearance of the sweet guy who’d helped her get through her audition and who’d charmed her over Italian food, then kissed her while they were on the river walk.
Disappointed, she said a quick hello to the rest of the Standard table before she and Rock returned to sit with the cheerleaders and some of the players who’d also shown up.
Harriet sat quietly, taking it all in. She felt like a moth who’d accidentally stumbled into a butterfly colony. They were all so colorful and bright, flitting from here to there, topic to topic. She sipped a light beer and enjoyed the moment.
By eleven, she was yawning. She’d had too many early mornings and not enough sleep. When she rose, Rock stood with her. “Ready to go, babe?”
Only then did she realize that she didn’t have her car with her. Rock had driven her. “Oh.” She flushed. “I forgot. I can—”
“No. I’m ready to go,” he said, squeezing around the table to her side.
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“No trouble at all.”
“I’ll take you home. It’s on my way.” Where had Steve appeared from? she wondered as she took in his grim and determined expression.
Even as she opened her mouth, Rock said, with an edge, “I brought Harriet, I’ll take her home.”
“It’s on my way,” Steve insisted, taking her arm.
“Mine, too.” Rock grabbed her other arm.
“I’m not a potluck casserole,” she snapped, feeling the hot blush of embarrassment color her cheeks as all the other cheerleaders stared at the three of them.
Out of the corner of her eye, she was almost positive Rock’s teammates were placing bets on who’d win the Harriet Tug-of-war.
She yanked both arms free and glared at the pair of them.
Rock stepped close enough to Steve that their chests nearly touched.
Steve narrowed his gaze and she saw with horror that his fists were clenched.
“She came with me, she’s going home with me.”
“I don’t think so.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll take a cab home,” she said and stalked toward the door.
“Why don’t you drive me home, Steve?” Linda Lou asked, all fluttery and flirty, behind Harriet.
There was a short, tense pause. “Why don’t I?” Steve said, sounding so happy at the suggestion that Harriet imagined she was already nothing but a faint memory.
Now that was the kind of tact that Southern women were famous for. Harriet should thank Linda Lou for salvaging an awkward situation. Except that for some bizarre reason she wanted to stuff a Georgia peach down the woman’s pretty throat.
There was a flurry and rustle behind Harriet and then Rock was walking beside her as though nothing untoward had happened. “Sorry ’bout that,” he muttered.
Harriet was so annoyed she felt she should jump into the cab that happened to be idling outside, if only on principle. But then she caught sight of Miss Georgia Peach and Mr. Jock Sports Reporter looking thoroughly cozy as they emerged from the bar and headed for his car.
Hmm. Why should she go home alone?
So she stuck to Rock’s side as they crossed to his car.
They were silent on the way to her house. She didn’t mean to be such a mouse, she simply couldn’t think of anything to say to him. He didn’t seem to mind. Besides, he had his music on again. She hoped desperately her aunts didn’t make the same mistake she had and ask the name of the group.
When they pulled up in front of her house, he cut the engine, which made her dry-mouthed and nervous as she gazed at his calendar-hunk profile. “I, um, should go in.”
“Aren’t you going to invite me to come with you?” He seemed surprised, as though he were always asked in to women’s houses, even on the first date. He leaned closer, until he was in kissing range.
A nervous giggle escaped her. “My two aunts are in their seventies. I don’t usually have guests this late.”
His eyes bugged out of his head and he quickly retreated to his own side of the car. “You live with two old ladies?”
She bristled in defense of her living arrangements. “They’re my aunts. Yes, I live with them.”
“Huh.” He seemed to ponder this for a long time. She’d noticed he did a lot of pondering. He was either a very deep thinker or just slow. She was trying not to make a rash judgment. “You’re kind of an old-fashioned girl.”
Well, she thought, you can take a girl out of twinsets, but you can’t take her out of her own skin. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
Another long pause, then a nod. “That’s cool. So, do you want to…you know, get a pizza or something tomorrow night?”
She wasn’t entirely certain she understood what he meant. “A pizza?”
“Well, doesn’t have to be pizza. We could go to the steak house. You know. Dinner. You and me.”
Surprise washed over her. �
��Rock, are you asking me out for a date?”
He flushed slightly. “Yeah.”
She might as well know the truth now before she ended up making a fool of herself. “Did someone put you up to this?”
“Huh?” His puzzlement was so genuine, she had to believe he was seriously asking her out. She didn’t have a clue why, or what they were going to talk about when they got to this date. She was accustomed to seeing men who were at least as nerdy as she was, and had no idea how she’d handle a jock, who was one of Pasqualie’s most eligible bachelors, but also a little conversation-impaired. If she wasn’t so mad at Steve she could ask him for some ideas. Get some football trivia or something.
“I’m flattered, but, why me?”
“Well, obviously you’re a babe.” A babe? A handsome, successful man with two functioning eyes was calling her a babe? “And, I don’t know.” Another long pause ensued. “You’re a nice kid.”
The last part let some of the air out of her joy bubble, but she thanked him politely and accepted. She almost floated into the house thinking how nice it would be to date a man who didn’t smell of formaldehyde, or who wanted to put her pathetic high school past on display for the entire town’s amusement.
By the time she’d showered the gunk out of her hair, removed her makeup with a special cream and put on her night cream and eye cream and the lip balm that would prevent chapped lips, Harriet was beat.
It was heaven to think that it was a nonpractice Friday tomorrow and she wouldn’t have to mess with her hair or a lot of makeup.
“HARRIET, are you eating properly?” Aunt Elspeth asked, a worried frown between her brows.
Since Harriet had just polished off a three-egg omelette, two pieces of homemade whole wheat toast and a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice, she was amazed at the question. “Of course I am.”
The crease didn’t disappear from her aunt’s brow. “But you’re getting so thin. Isn’t she getting thin, Lavinia?”
Her other great-aunt gazed at her over her reading glasses. “She looks fine. Don’t fuss.”
In fact, Harriet’s body had become more taut and curvier, though she hadn’t lost any pounds. “It’s all the exercise, I think,” she said.
“All that jumping around in skimpy bikinis would melt the pounds off anyone.” There was a scolding note, but Aunt Lavinia couldn’t disguise the pride in her tone.
“From the sound of things, that football quarterback certainly didn’t think you were too thin.”
Harriet blushed in spite of herself. “Rock. He’s very nice.”
“Mmm. We’d like to meet him, too, wouldn’t we, Elspeth?”
“Oh, yes. So handsome in that uniform.”
“Invite him in when he comes to pick you up this evening.”
Harriet didn’t trust Aunt Lavinia’s benign expression for a second. She was pretty sure it was the same one Lavinia had used when asking a question of a student who obviously hadn’t done their homework, but what could Harriet say? “All right.”
AROUND MIDMORNING Steve called her. Her heart gave a funny bump when she heard his voice.
“Harriet, can you come in here for a minute?” he said. “I need some help writing the cutlines for your story.”
“Sure,” she said, still delighted that her very first feature article with her byline was coming out in the weekend edition.
She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. Everything seemed to be happening at once. She was about to fulfill a girlhood dream and become a cheerleader at the ripe old age of twenty-three, and she was now going to fulfill the first step of a career dream.
Her aunts would be so proud they’d burst.
Harriet all but bounced into Steve’s office.
He glanced up and his eyes widened.
“What is it?” she asked, wondering if there was something embarrassing about her appearance that no one else had bothered to tell her about in the two hours she’d already been at work.
“I can’t get used to it,” Steve said. He removed his glasses, rubbed them on his polo shirt and slipped them back on. “One day you’re a glamour girl, the next you’re back to being Harriet again. Hard to keep track.”
She experienced the oddest sensation, as though her body had suddenly dropped a few hundred feet and her stomach was plummeting to catch up. She glanced down at her dark green tartan skirt and the beige wool sweater Aunt Lavinia had brought her back from Edinburgh after attending a recreation of the battle of Culloden.
“I always look like this for work.”
“I know. I guess I thought you’d keep the fancy hair and…I don’t know. The new image.”
“No.” She tried for a bright smile. “This is me. Old weird Harriet.”
Steve pushed up his glasses, his forehead creasing. “Hey, I didn’t mean…I think you look good…” He flushed and fiddled with a pen on his desk. “I’m making a total mess of this. Look. I want to apologize for the way I acted last night.”
“You do?”
“Yes. The thing is, I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Do you want to play squash tonight? Grab some dinner after?”
“Tonight? Have dinner with you?”
Amusement twinkled in his clear gray eyes. “I know you eat.”
“Of course.” She shuffled her feet, wondering if there was some new hidden camera show she didn’t know about, entitled “Make a Fool of the Dorky Girl.” “I already have a date tonight.”
“Oh.” Steve appeared truly disappointed.
She didn’t want him to get the idea that she wasn’t interested in him, when she’d worshiped him from afar for years, and, even if he was clueless about her feelings, he’d apologized. So she added eagerly, “But I’m free tomorrow night.”
The amusement was back in his eyes, remarkably intelligent eyes for a man with a reputation as a dimwit. Maybe it was the glasses that made him look intellectual.
Why hadn’t she bitten her tongue in two rather than act so eager?
But he didn’t laugh. “Tomorrow works for me. Do you want to go for a hike first and really work up an appetite?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “But we’ll be all dirty. I know, why don’t I bring along a picnic instead of going to a restaurant?”
“Sure, great.” He beamed at her, then his face clouded. “You’re not thinking of carrying a picnic basket are you?”
She giggled. “For a hike? Of course not.”
He sighed with obvious relief. “A girl I knew once packed a picnic for what I thought was a hike and it was in a huge—” he sketched a large rectangular shape with his hands “—basket with prissy straw handles. There was a red-and-white checked tablecloth inside and wineglasses. I kid you not.”
Well, if he was looking for wineglasses and gingham he ought to take Aunt Elspeth out for the day. “I was thinking tuna fish sandwiches and lemonade. In a backpack.”
He sighed blissfully. “Harriet, you are my kind of woman.”
Her heart skipped a beat, even though she knew he was joking. And yet, the crazy thing was, she was his kind of woman. They both loved sports and the newspaper business and they understood each other. Well, considering Steve’s idea for the story that would have embarrassed her in print, he didn’t know much about her, but she felt she knew him well.
He wasn’t a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, so only someone who really listened to him and knew about lost dreams could understand that he’d always have a small regret about not becoming a professional athlete. She decided to put the other matter aside. She had a week or so to work on him before the second article—the one about her—came out.
“Great.” She beamed at him. She couldn’t believe the kind of luck she was having lately. Two dates with two different men over the weekend, and no call for the turkey baster.
He tapped his fingers on his desktop then said, “I know it’s none of my business, but is it Rock you’re seeing tonight?”
“Yes.” Probably, she should have been a bit more
coy and acted as she imagined any other Braves’ cheerleader would act when asked the same question. Of course, that would involve hair-flicking and eye-batting, neither of which she excelled at.
“You won’t be the first woman we’ve ever gone to battle over,” he said grumpily.
Fight over her? She had to bite her lip to stop from laughing with delight. If, in this brief moment in time, she was to be fought over by two of the hunkiest hunks in Washington state, she was going to enjoy every blessed second of it.
Besides, it was obviously time to put away her teenage notions of herself. She wasn’t a nerd anymore. But whether it was Caro’s advice about attitude or simply her own self-confidence now that she was a Braveheart, she felt attractive and interesting. And if two men were smart enough to see that there was more to her than tartan, then maybe she could even get in on the game. “Who usually wins?” she asked.
He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Depends who wants to badly enough, I guess.” His expression was warm when he glanced at her and without thinking she flipped her hair over her shoulder, watching him watch the gesture.
Then it hit her. She’d just flicked her hair. She was flirting, that’s what she was doing. Enjoying every second of it, too.
A warmth suffused her body, and suddenly she remembered the day Steve had given her that hickey. She recalled the feeling of his lips against her skin, the way he’d smelled when he got close, so clean and all-male. Then she remembered that wonderful walk on the riverbank when he’d kissed her. She licked her lips, soft and dewy from the cream she religiously applied each night.
His eyes followed the movement of her tongue over her lips and suddenly his office felt small and warm, as though someone had cranked up the thermostat. Inside the wool sweater, her skin felt prickly, and so very aware of the man in front of her.
Silence lengthened and she had a strong intuition he was thinking about their one shared kiss, as well, and the fact that he’d promised her more kisses on their second date. He cleared his throat. “So, where’s he taking you tonight?”
