Lori Wilde - It Happened in L.A.

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.”