After Hours: Midnight Oil / Midnight Madness / Midnight Touch

Peg took a deep breath and counted to three. “Let’s just change the subject. Because if we don’t, I might be tempted to shove those bread sticks where the sun don’t shine, buddy.”

“God, I love it when women threaten me with violence. It makes me all horny,” Troy teased her. “What bread sticks?”

She glared at him. “The ones Benito’s bringing to us right now. Hi, Benny!” She turned to the restaurateur with a sunny smile. “How are you?”

“Very well, grazie. You?” Benito placed a large napkin-covered basket in the center of their table. The aroma of hot bread wafted out, hot bread liberally spread with garlic butter. Peggy’s mouth watered, and Benito beamed at her. He gestured toward Troy.

“I see you have dinner with our so-handsome landlord! Should help with the rent, eh?” He winked and laughed. “Ciao, Mr. Barrington. You like-a more wine?”

“Landlord?” Peggy stared at Troy.

Troy shrugged and looked sheepish.

“He no tell you? He inherit whole strip mall from his uncle, Newton Baines. When, one month ago, you say?”

Troy nodded.

Peggy felt like an idiot. She’d called the cops on their landlord? “Why…”

“Benito, I’d sure love to take you up on that second glass of wine. How about one for the lady, too?”

“Right away, Signor B.!”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Troy said quickly, after Benito left. “About the whole stalking thing, or like you had to go out with me since I owned the place.”

She shoved her embarrassment away. “I wouldn’t have. I already told you, your money doesn’t intimidate me.”

His mouth twisted. “Trust me, there’s not as much money anymore. Three college funds, my sister’s retirement fund and a bunch of property, and it takes a mint to maintain that.”

“Well,” she said coolly, finishing her glass of Cabernet, “After Hours must be quite the cash cow for you.” Oh, hell. How had she gotten back to cows and milk again?

Troy crunched down on a bread stick and didn’t answer. She supposed her comment had been tacky. This evening was going all wrong, and she didn’t know how to salvage it. Didn’t know if she even wanted to, after his comments about girls and football.

She knew Troy spoke the truth about how many girls went on to play high school or college ball, but it irritated her that he saw no need to change the status quo. That he was fine with girls being cheerleaders, supporting their male football teams. It made her want to scream.

“Tell you what, Mr. Landlord,” she said. “We’re gonna challenge you guys to a game toward the end of the season. And you are going to eat your words. Then you’re gonna owe us the helmets and new uniforms. Not to mention pink cleats for the whole team.”

“Deal,” he said. “But can I ask you something? If you’re so eager for your ladies to be taken seriously, why not lighten up on the pink?”

“Because I’m making a point. You’re about to suggest that they shave their heads, maybe get nose rings and tattoos just to look tough, aren’t you?”

“No.”

She ignored him. “Well, they’re not going to do that. My girls are going to look as feminine as they please while kicking ass. They’re going to pulverize the opposition after touching up their lipstick! I’m so sick of these stereotypes—that if women are good at sports, they’ve gotta look butch. Not true.”

“Okay, calm down,” Troy said, pulling the napkin-covered basket toward him. “I’d offer you a bread stick, but I’m afraid of what you might do with it.”

That got a smile out of her, but she nodded. “Damn straight.”

“You’re a tough one, Peggy-Sue. I have a feeling that any moment now you’ll challenge me to swords, pistols or bread sticks at dawn.” He grinned that irresistible grin of his, the one where both dimples flashed.

“On guard,” she said. “Watch out for the garlic.”

Benito appeared with their second glasses of wine and took their orders, chicken cacciatore for her and manicotti for Troy. They both chose the Caesar salad.

“A good thing if there’s any kissing later,” Troy pointed out. “We’ll both have the breath of camels.”

“Kissing?” She raised her glass to her lips and flooded her mouth with the tart Cabernet. “Aren’t you presuming a lot?”

He avoided her gaze. “Yeah, I guess I am. And I shouldn’t.”

She set her glass down. “Why did you ask me to dinner, Troy? Because I could swear that you had no intention of doing it. All that stuff about how you wanted to get to know me, and then when I called, you didn’t seem pleased to hear from me.”

He swore under his breath and ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “Peggy, it’s not that. Believe it or not, I was thrilled when you called.”

“Yeah, you were turning cartwheels. Come on, Troy!” Encouraged by the wine, she leaned forward and said in low tones, “Just go ahead and give me the speech about how it’s not me, it’s you, or tell the truth and say that since we had our sex-a-thon, you don’t respect me anymore. Because I must be loose, and while you might screw that kind of woman, you sure don’t want to date her—”

“Peggy—”

“You already got a bucket of free milk, so why tow around the cow—”

“Hey! That is complete bullshit—”

“Right, of course it is. Then give me your version.”

“Damn, woman! Look, I like you a lot. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re challenging and you turn me on like you wouldn’t believe. But the thing is that you’re also my nieces’ coach. And when you called I was just thinking that it’s not a good idea to take this any further. That’s all.”

“Then why did you ask me to dinner?”

“Because I wanted to anyway, even though it’s probably not smart. You’re an amazing woman, Peggy. I like to look at you, I like to talk with you, and I damn sure like to touch you….”

Heat blossomed all over her skin, and she felt foolish. She’d just behaved like a raving lunatic, but Troy still sat opposite her instead of storming out. He had a perfectly reasonable explanation for his hesitance on the phone.

A waiter, not Benito this time, appeared at the table. “Cacciatore?”

She nodded, and he placed the dish before her.

“And manicotti for signor.”

Troy thanked him.

Dinner was served, and Peggy was intensely grateful to be able to concentrate on her food. What were she and Troy going to talk about next? They’d already covered sex. Might as well move on to the other taboo subjects: politics and religion.

Then he turned the tables on her. “So, Peggy-Sue. If you didn’t think I really wanted to ask you out to dinner, then why did you accept my invitation?”

10

TROY ASKED THE QUESTION partly to make her squirm after her tirade, and partly because he really wanted to know the answer.