Jill Monroe - Hitting the Mark

“Yeah, that’s a real bummer, Dad.”

Humor entered her father’s famous blue eyes. “Now that I think about it, something on the Internet might be the ticket.”

Danni frowned. “Dad, you’re in this halfway house for a reason. It’s not supposed to be halfway between jail and crime. It’s halfway between you and making straight with your life.”

The lightness between them vanished, and a thoughtful look passed across her father’s face. “Don’t worry about me, Danni-bear. I won’t put you through that again.”

Silence stretched between them. Seven years they’d been caught by circumstances determined to crush them. The night that had sent each of them on their current course.

Her father stood and clutched her hand. “Come and sit with me under the tree. It’s cooler. Tell me what you did today.”

He led her to the picnic table some ex-con had thought would be funny to paint in black and white stripes. “Actually, I’ve met someone.”

“You did?”

“His name is Eric Reynolds.”

“That name sounds made up,” he said, waving his hand.

“Daddy, not everyone’s like us. I met him at the laundry. He needed to borrow a dryer sheet.”

Daniel Flynn rolled his eyes. “That’s weak. Dump him. If a man isn’t willing to go to more trouble to impress you, you don’t need him.”

“I thought so, too. So I charged him a buck.”

“There’s my girl.” Pride laced her father’s voice.

“But all he had was a five, so I took all of it. I felt bad about it later, and I ended up buying him a cup of coffee and some cheesecake.”

Her father’s lips twisted. “Let me get this straight. He got you to buy him a drink, some cheesecake, which by the way I’m surprised you didn’t wrestle him for, and dryer sheets?”

“He did pay me for those.” And she came close to wrestling him for the cheesecake.

“Did you spend more than five dollars on him?” her father asked, frowning.

“Yes.”

“I take it back, it’s not weak. He’s brilliant.”

Danni couldn’t help it, she grinned. “Dad, he’s not a con man. Not everyone looks at things the way you do.”

Daniel sat on the bench. “I don’t know why I bother giving you advice. I taught you skills, which you turn your back on, and now you’re studying. Studying is bad enough, but what’re you studying? Law…It’s too painful for me to even finish the thought. Now you’re getting taken by a man. Maybe you’re more like your mother than I thought.”

“And you love me for it,” she told him as she gave him a hug.

“More than you’ll ever know.”

THE PHONE WAS NOT RINGING as she keyed into her apartment. Not a good sign. Had Danni been expecting it to? Hmm, yes, she had.

Hoping, at least.

Dropping her purse by the door, and hooking her keys on the bulletin board, she made a big production of setting the laundry basket on the kitchen table while not taking the trouble to see if the red light on her answering machine was flashing. She was not the kind of woman who waited around to see if a man called her.

Still, in the end, she looked at the machine anyway.

The red light was flashing. The muscles between her shoulders tightened. Might not be him. Could be a telemarketer. Could be a charity looking for a donation.

Two messages. Surely one of them was Eric.

“Hi, Danni, it’s Cassie. Wanted to see how the coff—”

Skip.

She smiled as the voice of her second caller filled her tiny kitchen. Six words. Six words she replayed at least three times. “I want to see you again.”

TO BE HONEST, Danni wasn’t one for dating. From seventeen until twenty the only one-on-one time she’d spent with a male had been with her lawyer. So when other girls her age were learning the rules of dating, refining their flirtation skills, honing their allurement proficiency, she was left alone on her bunk with her notebook.

She’d write for hours in that notebook. Things she wanted to do. Places she wanted to go. She’d developed lists. Lots and lots of lists. The list she reviewed most often was her dodge list. Men she planned to avoid. Ranking near the top of the list were men like her father. That ruled out anyone with charm and a glint in his eyes. Charisma times sexy eyes always equaled a girl in trouble.

Falling right below sweet talkers were the nice boys. First, what in the world could she possibly have in common with them? Nice boys usually came with nice moms, and she’d never pass that test. Plus, they held an aura of boredom.

Next—obviously no one with a criminal past. They’d probably wind up with some kind of one-upmanship thing going on, and that would just be weird.

Anyone wanting to “save” her was also out. Savers usually had more problems than she did, and that was a lot of dysfunction.

Around her nineteenth birthday, Danni realized her list of “not wants” left her with a negative vibe. So she restarted her list to catalog the qualities she wanted. To her surprise, she found she required only three.

Must have a job. Yes, very good start. Very unlike her dad.

Must be driven. Ambition never hurt anyone. Also very unlike her dad.

And be a decent person. That was where Danni always got stuck. Aside from the robbing and stealing, her father was fairly decent. It’s not as if he’d go and kick a dog or anything. He did have a code—his code—by which he lived. But she wanted someone, who at his core, had principles. Principles that didn’t come with a string of option-out clauses.

So, who did that leave her with? Corporate men and musicians.

She’d struck out royally with the musicians. On the face of it, they seemed to be her ideal. Driven, sort of had a job, and they were sometimes decent, even sensitive. But in the end, their life was all about their music. Their next gig. And could she spot them some money to buy a new amp?

Since the corporate men weren’t clamoring at her door to get the girl with a past and a rap sheet, her dating experience had ended there.

Despite him allowing her to pay, Eric seemed corporate. She almost hated to go out with him since this would be her last shot of keeping the corporate fantasy alive. Maybe it would be better to not ever know. If this date failed, where would she be? Did she have the stomach to start her lists all over again? Or never date? Both sounded okay and terrifying at the same time.

Her doorbell rang, and she moved slowly, her fingers stilled on the doorknob. This was it. Her chance to see if corporate worked for her.

She’d told Eric no game-playing, so she opted to be ready on time. He’d told her nice casual. And thank goodness because all the designer stuff was at the dry cleaners. So she greeted him on Sunday evening in black capris and a beaded green tank with a black half-jacket for her shoulders. And she had the shoes right for this play. Sandals, low heel so as not to be too provocative, but strappy to draw attention to her ankles, which for some reason men, be they loser or lawyer, seemed to like.

Her hair had been the problem. She wanted flirtatious and serious. Finally, Danni opted to leave her blond hair down her back with a few strands pulled up in clips.

Appreciation lit his dark eyes, and she let out a relieved breath. She hadn’t even realized she’d been nervous. Okay, lie. She just didn’t want to admit how very anxious she was. What she needed to do was to openly check him out. Put her focus on Eric.

Actually, he looked a lot better than she remembered. And she remembered him gorgeous. Navy pants, relaxed enough to be casual, tight enough to let her know he was a man. He didn’t appear nervous. Damn.

“You ready?” he asked. She’d forgotten how sexy his voice was, too. Deep and rich and husky.