Jill Monroe - Hitting the Mark

Eric selected a black ball, the first one he’d tried. “Not sure how good I’ll do, but I’m ready.”

“Remember, the trick is not to try to knock all the pins down on the first roll. Otherwise, the machine cheats you out of your second ball.”

He groaned. “And here I’ve been doing it all wrong. Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile.

In fact, Eric turned out to be a pretty decent bowler. While he didn’t make any strikes, he managed to clean up with a few spares. Her own approach was lousy, and she sent her ball to the gutter more times than she would have liked. But it wasn’t all bad. Every time she bent to retrieve her ball, she felt Eric’s brown gaze on her body. He was checking her out. So she put an extra wiggle in her step. That’s when he began missing his spares.

They finished their first game fairly quickly.

“For someone who claims to know a lot about bowling, you don’t bowl all that well,” Eric teased.

Danni looked up at the screen above their heads. She hadn’t even broken a hundred. Pathetic.

“Are you up for another round?” he asked.

“You know, Eric, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were egging me on just so you could beat me again.”

“No, it has everything to do with form.”

“Can’t tear your eyes off my backside, can you? Okay, I’ll give you another game…care to make it interesting?”

Now where had that come from? Had she actually suggested they bet on a bowling game? Old patterns. If he had the chance, her dad bet on which way the wind would blow. And he was always right.

“How about the winner chooses the next outing? And believe me, I won’t be choosing bowling,” he said, his voice lowered to a provocative timbre.

Next outing? Her stomach got all fluttery. Eric wanted to see her again. She wasn’t being a total dud on this date.

Eric stuck out his hand for a shake.

She stood and wrapped her fingers around his strong hand. “It’s a deal,” she told him. And she wouldn’t let the warmth of his hand, or the fact that it took him forever to let go distract her. No she wouldn’t. Because she was a professional.

Turning, Danni picked up her ball, blew into the finger holes and lined up her feet to the left of center. Her ball slammed into the pocket.

Strike.

Strike.

Strike.

“I’m being hustled, aren’t I?” Eric asked on the fifth frame.

“Being? Honey, past tense. You were hustled.” Yeah, old patterns. She hadn’t even realized until the sixth frame of their first game that she was deliberately throwing it. It had just been so ingrained.

“We’ll see,” he vowed. A gleam entered Eric’s gorgeous brown eyes. He stepped up and rolled his ball down the lane. All the pins fell on his first ball. Brooklyn style. But a strike was a strike. And he hit two more.

So it seemed she wasn’t the only one holding back. It was kind of sweet. It had become fairly obvious in the first few frames of their first game that she was lousy, so Eric had adjusted his own play so he wouldn’t blow her out of the water.

Awe. It almost made her feel guilty for what she was about to do. Almost.

Eric was on his approach to get the spare in the ninth frame when the gate suddenly closed and the sweep pushed the remaining two pins away. Eric turned to face her, glaring.

She quickly took a step away from the ball return. She raised her eyebrows in innocence. “Oh, was that me? I guess I accidentally pressed the reset button.” She added the coy hair flip for emphasis. “Sorry.”

His eyes narrowed farther, but his lips were lifting into a wry grin. “Yeah. I can see how that could happen.”

Danni finished the tenth frame in a series of three strikes, handily beating Eric. And not a sign of nerves.

He didn’t look mad that she’d hustled him. Instead, he seemed almost intrigued. Oh, yes, the theory on nice boys. They liked naughty girls.

“I guess I owe you,” he said.

“You can pay your debt with…ice cream.”

He sighed heavily. “More time with you. I guess I have to honor my word.”

A SHORT WHILE LATER they drove to an ice cream parlor close to many of Reno’s casinos, making what she assumed was normal first-date chitchat.

A woman could tell if a man would be a good lover by the kind of ice cream he ordered. Danni actually didn’t have an opinion on this, but a theory was forming in her mind.

If Eric chose standard-issue fair—chocolate, vanilla, strawberry—not a lot of adventure between the sheets. Oh, it wouldn’t be bad, not as if he ordered something with pineapple topping. That’s just yuck. She could never sleep with a man who ordered that. But if a man mixed two flavors she knew a little something more would be happening in the sex department.

Eric ordered mega-chocolate peanut butter swirl with nuts and marshmallows. Her nipples got all tingly.

Danni ordered her usual chocolate chip cookie dough and they sat down in one of the booths.

An excited girl in a princess crown danced around her parents’ table with her ice cream cone.

Eric laughed. “How long before that scoop of ice cream hits the floor?”

“It won’t. She’s going to eat the whole thing.”

Eric shook his head. “I think you’re wrong on this one, ace.”

“Care to make it interesting?” she asked. Great. Here she was at it again. She tried to hide her frustration with a smile.

“You’re on.”

She and Eric watched as the child continued to dance and eat her cone until the very last bite.

Eric turned to Danni. “How did you know?” he asked.

“Because she’s a girl and it’s ice cream. Dancing in your sparkly tiara is fun and all, but there’s a seriousness about dessert that all girls understand.”

“Ahhh. So basically you’re saying I lost that bet because I’m a man.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It must be hard to be a step behind all the time. And hey, you didn’t tell me the terms of the bet.”

“You’re right.”

She gave him a playful swat on the arm. After they were finished, he helped her to her feet. It was getting late. Just how long could she stretch out this first date? She still wasn’t ready for it to end.

“Have you seen the arch yet?” she asked. Reno was famous for the arch proclaiming it to be the Biggest Little City In The World.

“Only by day.”

“Well then, you have to see it by night. There’s no other way to view it.”

Eric drove into one of the casino parking lots and then they walked toward the arch.

“I’ve heard that if you kiss under the arch you’ll have good luck at the tables,” she told him. Okay, actually she just made that up, but she was done playing around to see if Eric liked her or not. And if he missed that wide-open invitation, then he was either an idiot or not attracted to her. Which also made him an idiot.

“I don’t believe in luck,” he said, his tone flat.

She was about to put him in the idiot column, because if anything stuck that her father had taught her, it was that life was a series of luck. Some of it good, a lot of it bad. But most of it luck. Then she realized he was teasing. Despite the darkness, the lights on the strip showed the heat in his eyes. Eric wanted to kiss her. Badly.

“Do you believe in missed opportunities?” she asked, her voice becoming breathless. Because hello, opportunity was knocking.

His stare pinned her in place. “I believe in making my own opportunities.”

“Really,” she said, her gaze never leaving his. “Well, I wouldn’t let you kiss me anyway.”

His eyes said liar. “I wouldn’t want to kiss you. I don’t kiss on the first date. What kind of man do you think I am?” he asked as he leaned toward her.