Connie Cox - When the Cameras Stop Rolling...

Mark glared at his nephew as he brushed him on the back of the head. “No one could accuse my nephew of being discreet either.”

Aaron shrugged, looking confused. “Just trying to help.”

“Well, don’t.” He dug in his pocket and handed his nephew the car keys. “I’m parked in visitor parking. Pull the truck around to the stadium parking lot—and don’t pull out onto the street. Don’t race the engine. Don’t—”

“Don’t breathe wrong. I got it.” With a tight jaw Aaron snagged the keys then took off at an irritated run.

What turned the tide on her decision? Was it the glimpse of vulnerability and sadness she’d seen in Mark’s eyes? Or was it the way his biceps flexed. Either way, she said, “Fine. I’ll come.”

Now Mark narrowed his gaze at her. “I don’t need a pity date.”

“That’s good since I don’t do pity dates. I only do pepperoni, extra onions.”

“Extra onions? You don’t do goodnight kisses either, then, do you?”

“Never on a first date to a pizza parlor.”

“Is it the venue? You need a more upscale wine-and-dinery?”

“Nope. It’s the first date thing. Why waste a good kiss if I’m not sure about a second date yet?”

“Right. Because kisses are in limited supply?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Mine are rare, which makes them extremely valuable.”

“Then I’ll treasure them properly, should I ever decide to accept one.”

“ Should you decide?” She gave him her best smoldering look along with a very deliberate lip lick. “I could make you beg.”

“I’d like to see you try.” His answer was flippant but the widening of his pupils told another story. Eva would bet anything his pulse was racing.

At least she wasn’t lusting alone. She found herself leaning forward, as if she were being sucked toward him.

The moment was so on the verge she forgot she was standing on a high-school athletic field until a half-dozen cheerleaders walked past, giggling and posturing for the boys, who were obviously waiting for them.

Aaron honked the horn, waving to the girls. One broke free from the gaggle to wander over to where he hung out of the truck window.

“Yours?” she called to him as she pointed to the truck.

“My uncle lets me drive it whenever I want to.”

The girl propped one hand on her hip, emphasizing the shortness of her cheerleading skirt. “Nice. Give me a ride?”

Even from a distance Eva could interpret the scowl Aaron sent Mark. “I didn’t bring my license today.”

She twirled her finger into her hair. “Bring it tomorrow and I’ll let you drive me home.”

The girl gave a saucy toss of her hair then turned to walk back toward her friends. Three steps away, she stopped and looked over her shoulder to make sure Aaron was watching her.

He was.

Sotto voce, Mark said, for Eva’s ears only, “He doesn’t have his license. I’m not sure how I can help him save face on this one.”

“Some things a man has to learn how to do for himself.” It’s what her husband had said whenever she’d wanted to save her brother from himself.

Mark gave her an irritated, challenging look before taking a step away from her. “What would you know about that?”

Now two men needed their egos stroked.

All she’d agreed to was pizza.

“Tell you what, Mark. I’ll drive my own car and meet you there.”

As she walked away, Eva resisted the pull to look over her shoulder to see if Mark was watching her walk away.

But she did indulge in a come-hither hair-twirl.

EVA WALKED BACK to her car, amazed at herself. What had just happened to her? She hadn’t flirted like that since—since high school?

But it had felt so good.

Chuck. Now the feelings of disloyalty hit her.

Not that Chuck wouldn’t want her to move on with her life.

Chuck had never indulged in flirting. One of the hazards of dating and then marrying an older man, she’d always thought.

Older man—ha!

Chuck had been younger than Mark when they’d started dating all those years ago. At her ripe old age of eighteen she’d thought him much older at eight years her senior.

He had given her the security she’d craved, the safety she’d needed, and the love she’d worked so hard to return in equal measure. Even if that had meant suppressing her wild side to fit into Chuck’s world.

He’d never asked her to change. But she had, thinking she owed it to him to become a part of his straight-up world.

But now Chuck was gone and all she was left with was her own world, a world she could define any way she wanted to, if she only had the courage.

Eva squared her shoulders.

“Bring it on,” she said to the universe at large.

You’re the only one who can hold you back , she heard, as if Chuck were sitting next to her.

She smiled, hearing the wisdom in the words Chuck would have said to her.

She thought about Mark. Thought about the flirting. Thought about the way she’d felt so alive as she’d teased and sparred. Thought about what could happen next.

And tried to bury all her angst, all her worry and fear of being hurt again. Tried to be brave, as she said aloud, “Let’s do this.”

A strong sense of approval passed through her, leaving her feeling warm inside.

While the logical part of Mark regretted asking Eva to join him, his baser libido couldn’t help watching her backside swing as she made her way to her car.

It was a little convertible. Black. Impractical with the frequent storms and the excessive heat of New Orleans, but it fit her.

Was she as impractical as her car? At first glance, a man might think so. But the intelligence behind those heavily mascaraed eyelashes made him cautious about underestimating her.

With the hard lessons his ex-wife had given him about the dangers of a beautiful woman with brains, anyone would think he’d turn and walk—no, run—in the opposite direction. Apparently, he was a slow learner.

Still, who was she to offer parenting advice? She had no children. None listed in her bio, anyway.

But she did have gorgeous child-bearing hips.

He walked up to the driver’s side of his truck, opened the door and motioned Aaron out.

“Let me drive, Uncle Mark. Just up to the pizza place.”

Here came the hard part of parenting. The tough-love part. “No way. You blew that privilege out of the water.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

That was the statement Aaron kept repeating over and over. Not his fault. And that was the attitude that kept Mark worried about his nephew. Being too immature to own his transgressions meant the boy was too immature to learn from his mistakes.

Mark didn’t let the remark go unchecked. He’d tried that before and Aaron had taken the silent approach to mean his uncle had believed him.

“That’s right, Aaron. Those other boys tackled you and poured beer down your throat and there was nothing you could do about it. And then they forced you to get into that car and drive twenty miles over the speed limit with police cars behind you flashing their lights for over a half mile before one finally pulled in front of you and made you pull over.”

Mark gave Aaron his best sarcastic cynicism, one of the few tones of voice Aaron seemed to listen to. “So what part of that wasn’t your fault?”

Instead of hanging his head in shame, as he had first done when the whole incident had happened, Aaron glared at his uncle. The fierce anger in his eyes gave Mark real worry.

What was happening to that chubby-cheeked little boy his sister had given birth to seventeen years ago?

Silently, Aaron turned to stare out the window, his jaw jutting, his forehead creased, fury in every line of his body.