It wasn’t, but Sunny had the manners to fake it. Pete, on the other hand, didn’t even look up. What was his problem?
As the staff left the room, Pete stirred from his end of the couch. Leaning toward her, he touched her arm. “Are you going to be all right with this?”
Probably not, but he’d never know it. “Sure,” she answered, flashing him her biggest smile. “Just get me the recipe for your mom’s cheesecake.”
Chapter Two
S
unny lay on her cream leather sofa, uncomfortable in a pair of too-tight jeans and a skimpy sweater, while the team finished her “home-cooked” meal. One of the mothers had made Pete’s cheesecake, and another had taken care of the rest. The girls had arranged everything, right down to setting the table with her grandmother’s china. They were such good kids. Working with them this past year had been the happiest time of her life.
Mouse, the team’s point guard, bent over her and used a pick to lift sections of Sunny’s hair, squirting spray as she went.
“Mouse, don’t you think that’s enough?” Sunny didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings, but already her hair was a wild, sexy mane with a life of its own.
“It’s gotta be perfect, Coach. Once everybody sees this on TV, your ex won’t bother you anymore
and the talk ’round school will shut down. Everybody’s gonna know he’s a liar.”
That was youth speaking. Sunny knew people could say and print almost anything, and others would believe it. Her skin was thick, but the girls were still idealistic enough to expect fairness. It bothered them that people believed Bruce and were describing her as coldhearted, self-centered and worse.
She didn’t like the idea of the kids being involved with her problems, but getting them to leave her alone was like getting a fast-breaking team to stall.
Leteisha, the team’s six-foot center, hovered above her. “Coach, are you concentrating on your date?”
“Not really,” she answered honestly.
“There’s nothing more important than your date, Coach. You gotta focus.”
Words from her own mouth.
“That’s right,” Mouse said, her dark eyes shining. “You are supposed to think about this hot guy. He is, like, very sexy, and you want him madly.”
“Easy, Mouse,” Leteisha warned.
“But I think Coach ought to…”
“Not now, girl!”
Sunny hid a smile. Leteisha ran the team with a firm hand.
“Okay, Coach,” Leteisha said, her dark eyes sincerely determined. “Let’s go over what you’re supposed to do. Have you got your plays straight?”
Obediently Sunny recited, “Take the pot roast and mashed-potato casserole out of the oven. Nuke
the corn. The gravy’s on the range. Salad and cheesecake in the refrigerator. Okay?”
“You forgot the apron.”
She wished they had.
“You need it, Coach, for realism.”
“And to protect your outfit,” added Mouse, who’d chosen the miniskirt for the TV show and the tight jeans and sweater tonight.
Sunny disliked the sweater as much as she had the miniskirt. The sweater was white—never her color, though with the amount of makeup they had on her, it probably wouldn’t matter—and it clung like a second skin. Surely Mouse would take pity on her if she complained once more.
“This sweater is so tight, I can’t breathe. Please, Mouse, choose something else.”
“No, no! You must wear it! My brother says a man cannot resist a woman in a tight, white top.”
“Ooooo,” the girls crooned.
Sunny lifted a brow at them, but it didn’t have its usual sobering effect. In fact, one of them, probably Heather, couldn’t suppress a giggle.
Circling Sunny as an artist would study her masterpiece, Mouse said, “Coach, you’ve got to help that sweater. Use better posture. Throw your shoulders back, and…”
“I’ve got the idea, Mouse.”
So did the team. They hooted, loving every moment despite her embarrassment.
“All right, you guys,” Leteisha ordered, pulling Sunny to her feet. “Huddle up.”
The girls swarmed Sunny as they did during a time-out. Leteisha held up her hand, and a hush fell.
“Okay, Coach, after this date Mr. Big Deal Bruce Daniels is going to know for sure he’s been ‘exed.”’
“He’s history,” somebody said.
“For-got-ten!” said another.
“That’s right,” Leteisha confirmed, shushing further comments with a look. “Now, we’ve got you this far, but, Coach, you’ve got to do your part.”
“We’re counting on you, Coach,” Mouse said. “When the TV camera’s on you, you gotta make the date look real good.”
“’Real good?”’ she repeated, not at all sure she’d want to comply with their standards.
“Just be all over the guy, Coach.”
“Yeah, make him sweat.”
“Put a liplock on him.”
“Practice safe—”
“Enough!” Sunny shouted. She loved these kids, but they got out of hand so quickly.
“Settle down,” Leteisha bellowed. “You know how Coach feels about that kind of talk. How’s she gonna go on national TV with all this hassle? We’re here to give her our support.”
The girls quieted down but grinned, unrepentant.
Mouse waved an emerald-green chef’s apron and sung out, “Coach needs to put this on.”
“Thanks, Mouse. Let’s get that apron on you, Coach.”
Sunny groaned.
“See how nice it goes with your hair?” Mouse coaxed, slipping the apron over Sunny’s hair.
At least it would cover the tight, white sweater.
“Go over the game plan, Mouse,” Leteisha ordered.
“Okay. Coach, after you answer the door, pretend you forgot to take the apron off and act real embarrassed.”
She probably would be.
“Then take your time untying the strings.”
“Take a lot of time,” Leteisha added with a wicked smile.
“Slip the apron off slow,” Mouse coached.
“Yeah, reeeeeeal slow.”
“Yeah, like you’re doin’ a striptease.”
“Then the guy sees you in that tight, white top and…”
“It blows his mind!”
The girls high-fived and yelled like they’d just scored the winning basket on a shot from midcourt.
“That does it!” Sunny ordered. “You’re out of here!”
Proud of themselves, the team called out outrageous advice all the way to their cars.
Girls! You took two steps forward with them and one step back. She’d never been as bold, but then Eleanor Keegan’s daughter had known her manners before she’d known her ABC’s.
They were good kids, and they’d worked hard all season, playing with more heart than ability. She’d felt safe promising them anything if they’d win the championship. Of course, now that she knew kids could play over their heads, she’d be careful giving out blank checks.
Winning a championship had been an unexpected thrill and confirmation she was making her life
count. Things would be great once she convinced her family to leave her alone. For the girls and herself, she would get through this evening and do her best to dazzle Pete Maguire…if she didn’t break out in hives.
Her burst of confidence lasted until the doorbell rang. “Take deep breaths,” she told herself. “Lots of deep breaths. Focus. Be convincing. Pretend you’re happy to see this guy.”
Donning a welcoming smile, she opened the door in a swoop and struck a pose.
But Meggy, the woman from
Dream Date,
stood there.
So much for dazzling.
“Hi, Sunny,” the woman said brightly. “We’re set up and ready for Pete to arrive. Everything okay here?”
She nodded, forcing her plastic public smile.
“Good. Like we said on the phone, try to ignore the cameras. We’ll shoot some stuff to establish Part One of your date and be gone before you know it.”
“Great. That’s just great. Really great.”
Pull yourself together, Sunny. Use that college education. Speak in multisyllables.
“Are we on schedule?”
“Yes, we are. In fact, Pete ought to arrive in just a few minutes. Have fun.”
“Thanks.” Sunny closed the door and worked on the breathing exercises she’d taught the girls for pre-game jitters. From now on, she’d have a new respect for people who went before the cameras for a living.
She wondered if Pete was as nervous about all
this as she was. Probably not. Not with his experience charming the ladies.
Pete popped a fourth antacid into his mouth and wished he’d been an only child. It was plenty nerve-wracking sitting here in the rental new-model pickup Meggy had paid for so he wouldn’t look like a pauper on national TV.
A pauper. He could buy a fleet of new pickups if he wanted to. It was his business what he drove, and he liked driving Old Red, no matter how much money he had. Things like loyalty were important, and he’d had Old Red since high school.
The
Dream Date
staffer who’d stopped him a block from Sunny’s place handed Pete a two-way radio. Meggy’s voice came through. “Pete, how are you doing?”
“How do you think? Let’s get this over with.”
“Uh, Pete, the audience always loves it when the guy brings the girl a flower. Teresa’s got one there for you.”
The staffer handed Pete a red rose.
“What next, Meggy? A stuffed animal?”
“No, we didn’t think Coach Keegan seemed like the stuffed animal type. But it would be nice if you’d give her a hug.”
“It would be nice if you’d ease up.”
“Sorry, Pete, the staff and I—” she paused, letting it sink in that others were listening “—don’t mean to be pushy. We’re here to make your date successful.”
For the benefit of those others, he gushed. “You’ve done a super job, Meggy. I mean it. If I
sounded…unappreciative, it’s because all this is pretty strange to me.”
“We understand. No problem. When you’re ready, drive on down to the house. Try not to look at the cameras.”
Nervous as a kid up to bat at his first big game, Pete approached Sunny’s condo, where a TV van and dozens, maybe hundreds, of teenagers surrounded the place.
Lord, if you’re out there and listening, get me through this. I’d take it as a personal favor if You’d see to it that my hip doesn’t act up and I don’t make a fool of myself.
When he stepped out of the pickup, his eyes swept the scene to get his bearings. Naturally he looked right into a camera. Sorry, Meggy.
Fixing his eyes on Sunny’s door, he made his way there. Concentrating as hard as he was, he forgot the rose clutched in his hand until he knocked on the door, and the thing jiggled in his grip. When the door swung open, his hand held the rose in midair, raised in a salute. He felt like a fool.
But Sunny’s smile was so beautiful and warm, it didn’t seem to matter. Those soft butternut eyes affected him the same way they had on the show. He felt the same zing in his gut. The same shortness of breath.
She glanced at the rose in his hand, and he remembered his manners, offering it to her.
“Thank you,” she said sweetly, touching her nose to the flower, sniffing its fragrance. “What a nice thing to do.”
He thought about giving Meggy the credit, but
noticed from the corner of his eye that the camera was recording the whole thing. This was as bad as being on the show.
What else had Meggy said he should do? Oh, yeah, the hug. Well, he wasn’t giving hugs because his sister said to; however, Sunny looked as if she could use one. Unless he’d lost the ability to read a woman’s eyes, she was plenty shaken by this.
As she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in, Pete slid his arm around her waist tentatively. He didn’t want her to get the idea that he was a lech or anything, but a friendly “we’re in this thing together” kind of hug should be okay.
As if the hug were her own idea, Sunny snuggled into it, and Pete felt his heartbeat pick up. Except for Meggy and his mom, it had been a long time since he’d been this close to a woman. It was ridiculous how much he liked it.
She lifted her face and there wasn’t a thing he could do but give her a kiss—just a friendly “glad to see you” kiss. That’s what he intended. Who knew it would ignite into a genuine, man-to-woman, take-his-breath-away kiss? Panic ripped through his brain before instinct took over, and he deepened the kiss.
“Get a bucket of water,” someone said, “or hose ’em down.”
The rude interruption pulled them apart. Pete’s heart pounded as if he’d jogged for miles. Sunny’s face and neck were flushed, and those big, golden brown eyes looked flustered.
Her embarrassment was his fault. On second thought, the loudmouth had a lot to answer for. Pete
turned, ready to silence the man, but Meggy beat him to it.
“Shut up, Brad,” she said to her camera operator.
“But we’ve got enough of this shot. They can do that on their own time. I don’t want to be here all night.”
“Shut up, or give me the camera and go to the van. We can do this without you.”
The guy clamped his jaw, and Pete grinned. Watching his sister back the guy down was sweeter than doing it himself.
“Score one for Meggy,” Sunny whispered as she pulled him inside. “I’m ready to join her fan club.”
That made two of them.
Sunny had set a table for two in a bay window. Classy, he thought. Real classy. He didn’t know they made glasses with stems that tall. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble,” he said.
“Actually I haven’t,” she said, an honest-to-goodness blush on her cheeks.
Pete liked modesty in a woman. “Everything looks great, and the food smells good, too.”
“Thanks. Dinner’s ready. Shall we eat now?”
“Why don’t we get our guests out of here first?” Turning toward the door as the crew struggled in with their equipment, he said, “Meggy, I believe you said this wouldn’t take long?”
“It won’t. All we need is a few seconds of this and that to establish Part One of your date. Let’s start with a shot in the kitchen.”
Sunny led the way into a large, light-filled room filled with sleek cupboards, expensive-looking appliances and lush plants. Pete had worked on units
like this. They didn’t come cheap. Teachers’ pay must be better than he thought.
Sunny was taller than he’d remembered, about five foot eight or nine, tall enough to be a presence in a girls’ basketball game, though her slender build belonged to a model. Her gorgeous legs were covered by jeans, but there was no way a guy could complain about the way she looked in those jeans.