Ms. Match (5 page)

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm? Oh. You. Of course. Only you.”

GWEN POURED THE POPCORN from the popper and spread it on a cookie sheet. She got out the butter-flavored cooking spray and spritzed the whole pan, then covered the corn with her signature chili, lime and salt mix.

“Bring me a beer when you come?”

Gwen poured the popcorn into a giant bowl, grabbed Holly her beer and herself a diet soda, and headed back into the living room.

Holly was spread out on the couch like a contented cat. She’d worn her pajamas over, the ones with the cowboys on them, and her fuzzy slippers. When the movie was over, she’d go up two floors to her own apartment. It was perfect. Especially because Holly also worked at Rockland-Stewart, where they’d met. They’d hit it off immediately and when the apartment upstairs had become vacant, Holly had jumped all over it.

“Are we ready?” Gwen asked. “Is there anything else we’re missing?”

Holly took her beer, popped the top and grabbed a handful of popcorn as Gwen sat down. “Nope. I think everything is perfect. Except that we’re here, in our jammies, watching movies on a Friday night.”

“In my opinion that is the essence of perfection.” She opened her soda and poured it into her big glass.

Holly pointed the remote at the DVD player, but she didn’t press the button. “I think Ito likes you.”

“What?”

“I think he’s crushin’ on you something fierce.”

Gwen couldn’t help but laugh. “Ito? You’re totally high. I’m his competition. He hates that my numbers are larger than his.”

“Nope. He’s hot for you. He wants you.”

“Press the button, Holly.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She pressed it and the FBI warning came on, then she pressed the button again. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. I saw a picture of Paul Bennet. Why didn’t you tell me he’s more gorgeous than Brad Pitt?”

“Because he isn’t. Can we see the movie now?”

Holly gave her a withering look. “How can we possibly be friends when you’re this obnoxious.”

“Thank you. Let me wipe a tear at that lovely compliment.”

“Shut up. He was maybe the best-looking man I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d opened my door to that.”

“He’s dating Autumn.”

“So he’s not bright. Exceptions can be made.”

“No,” Gwen said sharply. “They can’t.”

“What was it like to be in his arms?” Holly asked, as if Gwen hadn’t objected.

“He was a good dancer. Once I was drunk, easy to talk to.”

Holly took a handful of popcorn. “He likes the Dodgers.” Then she popped each piece into her mouth, one at a time.

“We’re in L.A. It’s not a big shock.”

“He got you a room. That was nice.”

“Charming. Let’s move on.” She winced at how bitchy she sounded, but she didn’t want to answer any more questions about that night. She barely wanted to think about it, although she hadn’t had much luck there.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Holly gave her a mighty pout. “I have nothing going on in my love life. I need more than online gossip and office politics. He’s the most interesting thing that’s happened to us in ages.”

“He’s dating Autumn. I haven’t given him a thought since that night.” Lightning didn’t strike at the lie. “Now can we please watch Mr. Willis kick some end-of-the-world ass?”

“You’re no fun.”

Gwen stuffed popcorn in her mouth. Pissed once again at her inability to erase everything to do with Paul Bennet from her memory. Damn him.

PAUL GOT THE CHAMPAGNE out of the fridge and popped the cork. He brought the bottle up to his mouth to catch the overflow, not giving a damn when most of it hit the floor.

He grabbed the tin of caviar and a spoon, and sat down at the bar in his kitchen. Alone.

She’d done it to him again. He’d been hopeful to the last second. The valet had taken his tip, Autumn had stood at the door of her Lexus, and he’d opened his mouth to tell her to follow him when she’d delivered the death blow. As much as she’d love to join him in an intimate night of sin, it couldn’t happen tonight. Girl trouble.

She’d actually said, “Girl trouble.” He’d seen from the look on her face that she thought she was being adorable.

He’d explained that he was a big boy and didn’t care about girl trouble, but she wouldn’t budge. She’d kissed him, as if that would make everything just fine, and she’d driven off, leaving him with a hard-on and a renewed determination that it was over. It was bullshit. He didn’t need her kind of crap, even if she turned out to be the best lay in the Western world.

He took a spoonful of caviar then lifted the bottle for a champagne chaser.

Screw her. She could play her games all she wanted. He was out of there.

He pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial seven. Laurie never had girl trouble. And she had always been amenable to the booty call.

She answered. Two minutes later he put the cork back in the bottle, the top back on the caviar, and he was on his way.

The batter swung. Missed it by a mile and the whole bar roared with victory. The Dodgers had won and in this bar, that meant spilled beers and high fives all around.

Gwen whooped it up with the best of them. The season was shaping up nicely for her boys, and she couldn’t be happier. It had been too long since the Dodgers had been in the winners circle. She had great hopes that they’d take it all the way this year.

Holly, who wasn’t much of a sports freak, celebrated anyway, glad to be out with friends at Bats and Balls. The gang consisted of folks from work plus a few extra mates or dates, enough of them to fill up their long picnic table.

There would be a ten-minute break before the trivia started. Six members of her group were die-hard players. As a team they were nearly always in the top ten. Individually, no one came close to her record.

Yes, it was compulsive, her love of stats and game minutiae, but screw it. Baseball gave her pleasure. Watching it, talking about it, and even playing it. Rockland-Stewart had a team that played against other employment firms. She managed The Rocks and played third base. They were okay, had even won the championship three years ago, though it was mostly for the fun and the after-game pizza.

All in all, this was her favorite night of the week. The whole group took it seriously, and no matter what was going on at work they all bonded over America’s pastime.

Holly nudged her in the arm and held up her empty beer glass. “You want another?”

Gwen shook her head at the waitress standing just behind her. “Club soda, please.” She hadn’t had much more than that in the two weeks since her parents’ party. She’d never gone overboard when it came to liquor, and that night had reminded her why.

“Did you win?”

Gwen hadn’t thought about the weekly pool since she’d given Ken her money. “Nope. I never do.”

“Me, neither.” Holly leaned closer. “What do you think of Ellen’s date?”

Ellen was one of the accounting staff. She was in her twenties, pretty, in good shape. She wasn’t a great baseball fan, but she did love picking up guys at the bar. Gwen didn’t recognize this one. She’d probably met him elsewhere. He was just the kind of man Ellen liked—buff, tall, handsome, if one went for that type.

Ellen laughed at something her current beau said, but stopped short. Her wide-eyed gaze fixed on someone at the front door.

Beside Gwen, Holly whispered, “Holy shit.”

Gwen knew just what she meant. A shiver raced up her spine as she saw none other than Paul Bennet. No tuxedo this time. Just jeans and a pale blue work shirt; the man could stop traffic. Did stop traffic. Every woman in the bar had gone silent.

Gwen could feel her cheeks heat with a blush that made her furious. What was he doing here? Was he with Autumn? That would ruin everything. Dammit, this was her bar, her friends. This was where she came to forget about the real world, including her foolish family.

Paul caught her eye and he smiled.

“Oh, my heaven, he’s coming over here.” Holly fluffed her curly hair and licked her lips. Gwen didn’t look, but she would bet good money that Ellen was doing the same thing. Had he come here looking for her? For God’s sake, why?

He walked to the table, right up to her. “Hey. You have room for one more?”

Gwen looked up at him. Despite her obvious displeasure at his intrusion her body reacted without her consent. All manner of butterflies and heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”

His smile held up, despite the rude question. “I had to see you in action. Am I too late for the trivia?”

“No.” Holly pushed her chair over, practically knocking Ken over in her haste. “It hasn’t started yet. There’s a chair right behind you. I’ll get you a machine.”

Paul didn’t waste a moment. He didn’t have to. Holly stole the chair from behind them and blushed like a teenager when he offered her a soft “Thanks.” By the time he sat down, she was back with his game player, the electronic gadget that connected this bar and all the others to the national scoreboard.

“What, no Autumn?” Gwen asked.

Paul shook his head. “No, I’m here all by myself. Couldn’t help wondering if you were really as good as you claimed to be.”

Smart-ass. “I guess we’ll see.”

He leaned closer, and even though the room smelled of beer and hot wings and too many men who were vague about the whole bathing concept, his scent came to her, that clean, intimate smell she remembered. She didn’t want to smell his neck, or any other part of him.

“I honestly hope you don’t mind. If it’s a problem, I’m out of here.”

“Why would I mind? It’s a public place.”

He looked at her with knowing eyes and, if she wasn’t mistaken, a hint of hurt. “I’m overwhelmed at your welcome. Listen, I’ll go. It’s not a big deal.”

She put her hand on his arm as he started to stand. “No, don’t be silly. I was just surprised to see you, that’s all. You don’t even live in this neck of the woods.”

“You mentioned the place when we were at the party. There aren’t many sports bars called Bats and Balls in Pasadena.”

“That’s true. And you are welcome. The waitress should be here in a second. They make great wings, if you haven’t eaten.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You know how to play this game?”

“I’ve played trivia.” He looked at the scorekeeper. All the questions were multiple choice, broadcast on big screens throughout the joint. There were only five buttons for the play, but there was a keypad to log in.

“You need to pick a nickname,” Holly said, leaning so far over the table she was almost in his lap.

“Oh?”

Still flustered, Gwen realized she’d made no introductions. And that everyone at the table was staring at her as if she’d grown a third eye. “Holly Quentin, this is Paul Bennet.”

“Hi.” Holly stuck out her hand, not even noticing that Paul had to shift halfway around in his chair to reach her.

“Everyone, this is Paul Bennet.” Besides the noise of the joint, Gwen wanted questions kept at a minimum, so she made the intro generic. “Paul, this is everyone.”

He nodded a general hello. That wasn’t enough for the women at the table. First up was Ellen. Then Gina, Steph and Tara. They all gave him first and last names, how they knew Gwen and what they did at the office.

If she’d been alone, Gwen would have buried her head in her hands. My God, did this happen to him everywhere? Every day? It must be exhausting.

“Thank you all for letting me crash this party.” He turned to Gwen, “What’s this about a nickname?”

“Turn the thing on. It’ll ask for a log-in. Use anything you like that’s not obscene or too long.”

“Damn.”

“What?”

He looked at her with a perfectly straight face. “My buddies call me Bodhisattva, but I guess that would be too many letters, huh?”

Even she had to smile at that one. “I’ll just bet they do.”

“I’m a very spiritual person.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Every time Furcal comes to bat, I pray for a triple.”

“No wonder we haven’t been in the World Series for years.”

The waitress came with the drinks, and Paul raised an eyebrow at Gwen’s club soda. He ordered a Heineken then he typed in his nickname and pressed the button. The name appeared on the master board. Newbie.

“All right, Newbie,” she said. “Prepare to be served.”

“Care to make it interesting?”

He’d leaned into her space again. His shoulder touched her shoulder. She actually wanted things to be less interesting. It made no sense that he was here. Baseball trivia was a swell game, but come on. He stuck out like an incredibly good-looking thumb. Not just because of his looks, either. He had an aura about him. As if he were somehow still wearing the tux, and that he’d have a limo outside, waiting, complete with supermodel and champagne chilling. He most certainly didn’t belong with her. “How interesting?”

She wasn’t about to let him know that he was giving her fits. In fact, she didn’t dare look around. She knew what she’d see. All of her coworkers would now be staring at her with giant question marks in their eyes. What was a man like him doing with a woman like her?

Even if Paul had come for the reason he’d stated, it wasn’t okay. She didn’t want to be buddies or pals or whatever the hell he thought they could be. The other night had been pleasant in spite of the reaction of her family to their pairing. She’d put up with the insults because she’d known there was an end in sight.

That’s what got her, of course. That everyone thought it so unbelievable that she could possibly attract a man like him. It shouldn’t upset her because it was true. She couldn’t. Not in this world, in this lifetime. Yet she didn’t appreciate everyone else acting as if they were the most improbable twosome since Quasimodo hit on Esmeralda.

“You win,” he said, reminding her he’d wanted to wager on the outcome, “I take you to my box at Dodger Stadium.”

“I have season tickets,” she said.

“Oh. In a luxury suite?”

That made her turn in her chair. “No, you do not.”

“Ah, but I do.”

“For the whole season?”

“The whole season.”

How was she supposed to turn that down? She’d never been inside one of the suites, but she’d heard all about them. The view was awesome, there were seven TV monitors including a forty-five-inch liquid crystal flat panel. A private concourse and lounge. It was all catered, even if all you wanted were Dodger Dogs and popcorn. There was even concierge service. Shoes could be shined while one sipped friggin’ champagne. There was no choice. “You’re on.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said. “What do I get if I win?”

“You won’t.”

For the first time since they’d met, he looked shocked. “Cocky, are we? You have no idea how much I know about baseball.”

“I’ve beat the whole country at this game.”

“You haven’t played me.”

“True. So what do you want on the incredibly, infinitesimally slim chance that you win?”

“I have to think about it.”

“Don’t think too long. The game’s about to start.”

Little clicking sounds of machines being turned on filled the room. Laughter came from one side, a murmur of excitement from another. Gwen figured it was safe to look around, finally, but she was wrong.

Her teammates, at least the females, ignoring their machines and the big screens, were focused on Paul. She cursed under her breath and fixed her gaze on the screen.

The big introduction came first, followed by a quick recap of the rules. Then, the questions began, easy at first, but pretty soon they’d start to get tough. Then really tough. Ending with brutal.

“Okay.” His voice startled her being so near to her ear. “I win, I take you to a game in my suite.”

She turned to stare at him. He was so close if she’d leaned over a couple of inches her lips and his would meet. Again.

She jerked back, her thoughts a jumble of nonsense and by the time she got a sliver of calm back, she’d missed the first question altogether.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” Paul said, his soft chuckle just this side of annoying.

She took a big swig of club soda, then settled her game pad. “Hold on to your shorts, big guy. I’m gonna whip you so hard you’re gonna cry for your mama.”

PAUL LAUGHED as the second question came up. Which of the following played in 24 all-star games for the National League, and one for the American League? He knew the answer even before the multiple choices appeared on the board. Hank Aaron, of course. If this was as hard as the questions got, he was going to kick ass. Not that it mattered all that much. He enjoyed winning, too much, most of the time, but his real purpose in participating wasn’t the trivia.

He hadn’t planned on inviting her to a game. Hell, he hadn’t planned on ever seeing Gwen again. But he’d kept thinking about her.

Not the way he kept thinking about Autumn, even though he’d resolved to forget about her. No, his thoughts had turned to Gwen for a slew of other reasons. He’d really had a good time at the anniversary party. He’d liked the dancing, sure, but mostly he’d liked the fact that there had been no pressure. He hadn’t been trying to score, not really. So the night had been just what it was.

She was interesting. Autumn hadn’t lied about that. Smart, funny, and damn, she might be the first woman he’d ever known that liked sports as much as he did.

The next question came up, but he knew that answer, too. This was going to be a piece of cake.

He grinned at Gwen and she grinned back. She might not be the kind of woman he’d want in his bed, but to hang out with? Yeah, he could definitely see that. Not at his usual haunts, no, but he liked this bar. Liked the low-key atmosphere.

The only place he went these days where it was easy was poker, and even that had too much pressure. He’d never done well solo, so he was always finding himself at clubs or at parties where the law of the jungle prevailed.