can find it. I’ll see you there.”
On the drive to his apartment, Garret thought about Rachel. He knew very little about her beyond her name and that she worked for Denton in some capacity. And that she had amazingly soft skin and a passion for chocolate. Not a bad foundation for a new relationship, he supposed.
He’d heard no more from Denton about whatever publicity stunt he’d been hatching for him and Rachel. Maybe the team owner had had second thoughts about the Wild Man having a girlfriend.
Garret’s contract obligated him to do whatever Denton came up with to promote the team, from making commercials to escorting beautiful models to high-profile events. But what he did on his own time was his business. Rachel Westover was a woman he’d just as soon keep all to himself.
He turned into the lot of his apartment complex, an upscale place owned by Morrison Enterprises. As he was climbing out of his car, Bud Mayhew waved at him from two spaces down. Mayhew was another newcomer to Dallas, as was most of the team. He hailed from Alberta, Canada, and was a pretty quiet guy, letting his skills on the court speak for him.
“Want to come up later and watch the hockey game?” Bud asked, loping over to join Garret.
“Can’t, I’ve got a date.”
“Oh? Who with?”
“Lady named Rachel. Met her at Denton’s party.”
Bud grinned. “Moira’s friend, right?”
“That’s the one.”
“If she’s half as good-looking as Moira, you’re a lucky man.”
Garret glanced at his friend. This was the first time he could remember Bud commenting on a woman. “So you thought Moira was a beauty?” Personally, he didn’t go for the skinny, small type. They looked too fragile for a big guy like him to have anything to do with.
“Sure. She was great. And taken.” Bud frowned. “Though that Dave guy she was with was a real ass.”
“I could get her number from Rachel. You could call her up.”
“No thanks.” Bud took a step back, shaking his head.
“Why not, mate? It’s just a phone call.”
Bud shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground. “What would I say? I’d sound like an idiot.”
Garret grinned. “We’re all idiots, mate. Especially when it comes to women. Accept that and you’ll be a lot better off.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not interested in proving it every time I open my mouth.” He took another step back. “Go get ready for your date. See ya around.”
“See ya.” Garret waved at Bud, then took the steps to his apartment two at a time. He could have told Bud that he himself was once the shy, retiring type who had learned to overcome his reticence and get the girl. Of course it would all be ballocks. Garret never found it difficult to talk to people, men or women. The only advice he had for Bud was to get over himself and just do it.
In the past it had been pointed out to him that this wasn’t particularly helpful, so that was the end of his advice giving. And he wasn’t much for taking advice, either.
After all, no one needed to tell him that he and Rachel had started something at Denton’s party. With any luck tonight, they’d keep things going in a very good way.
RACHEL STEPPED INTO Tangerine and let her eyes adjust to the light. There was a good crowd for a Tuesday night, and a DJ was spinning dance tunes from a booth overlooking the smallish dance floor. She spotted Garret at a tall table near the bar and made her way through the crush to him. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I had trouble finding a parking spot.”
“No worries. I haven’t been here long.” He signaled the waitress. “What can I get you?”
“Diet Coke with lime.” She settled into her chair. “I don’t like to drink and drive.” Not to mention she wanted to keep all her wits about her when dealing with him.
“Smart woman. I took light rail so I’m free to get blotto.”
It took half a second for her to realize he was joking. That crooked-tooth grin of his did serious things to her insides. Get a grip, she reminded herself, and looked out over the dance floor. She told herself she needed to evaluate him objectively before she began the actual work of applying her man-taming principles.
She studied him out of the corner of her eye. He was wearing a striped button-down shirt, tails untucked, over a dark green T-shirt. He had shaved. For her? A good sign.
All in all, she decided her initial impression of him was accurate: good-looking, casual attitude toward dress and grooming, masculine and self-confident. And sexy. She couldn’t forget sexy.
His grin transformed into a knowing smile and he winked. “Caught you looking,” he said.
She couldn’t stop the hot flush that engulfed her face. The curse of being fair-skinned, she told herself.
Her drink arrived and she took a long sip, trying to rein in her libido. She had a job to do here. Garret obviously had rough edges that needed smoothing and she was just the woman to do it. Contrary to what Denton thought, the object was not to emasculate the man, only to bring his behavior up to a higher level.
“You look great,” he said. “I’m really glad you called me. I’ve been meaning to ask Denton for your number.”
Did this mean he didn’t know about Denton’s plans for them? “Has Denton talked to you about me?” she asked.
“No.” His smile faded. “Is there something I should know about you and Denton?”
“No! I mean, I’m a writer for a magazine he owns. Belinda magazine?”
“Never heard of it. But then, I don’t pay much attention to that sort of thing.”
Now she was certain Denton hadn’t mentioned his scheme to play the “Wild Man meets the Man Tamer” card in the press. And she wasn’t going to be the one to tell Garret. With luck, Denton would forget the publicity angle, though she fully intended to hold him to the terms of their bet. Better change the subject. “Tell me about Australia,” she said. “How long have you been in the States?”
“A couple of years. I got to know a lot of Yanks when I was doing a tour in Iraq and they convinced me this was the place to be for lacrosse. I played on a good team in Queensland and was able to land a roster spot with the Denver Mammoth. Then Dallas was awarded an expansion team this year and Denton recruited me for that.”
The strains of Vivaldi coming from her purse made her jump. She grabbed for the bag. “Sorry, it’s my phone.”
“Of course.” He made a face but said nothing more.
She flipped open the phone and checked the number. Rhonda. What was she doing calling this time of evening?
Rachel
