Kate grinned at him. “You’re a pretty decent kid, you know that? In spite of the fact that you enjoyed the Star Wars prequels and have never watched the classic episodes of Doctor Who. These are faults of youth and can therefore be forgiven.”
Jacob rolled his eyes, but he’d taken another bite of pretzel and was too busy chewing to answer.
Her phone rang, and she fished it out of her purse. When she saw it was Ian, a little jolt went through her system.
She wished that would stop happening. When he’d called earlier in the week to ask if she could watch Jacob today, her heart had jumped as if she were a teenager hearing from the cutest boy in class. After the call had ended, she’d found herself singing “I Feel Pretty” from West Side Story.
For a grown woman, that was downright embarrassing. Especially considering she’d made such a point of establishing that nothing was going to happen between them—not to mention their lack of attraction for each other.
Yeah, right.
The truth was, she didn’t think she’d ever been as attracted to a man as she was to Ian Hart. Until now, she hadn’t known she could feel that way about a man she didn’t even like.
Unless it was because she didn’t like him.
Well, why not? If you imagined yourself with a guy you didn’t like, emotion wouldn’t enter into it. There’d be no girlish dreams of happily-ever-after.
Just raw, primitive, mind-blowing sex.
Not that she would ever fantasize about Ian, of course.
She got up from the bench before she took his call. She felt more in control when she was on her feet, and with Ian Hart she needed every possible advantage.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey, yourself. Any problems picking up Jacob?”
She tried to ignore her body’s response to the whiskey-rough timbre of his voice. “Not at all. It’s such a gorgeous day we decided to walk home, and we’re currently eating soft pretzels in Central Park.”
“Must be nice. I just came out of a meeting and I’m on my way to another one. I haven’t been outside all day.”
“Poor baby. Of course the fact that you’re gainfully employed is probably some consolation.”
“I offered to gainfully employ you, remember? You were the one who insisted on doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”
“I wanted to show you that some people actually have one.”
He chuckled. “I have a heart. It’s just two sizes too small.”
Her eyebrows rose. “A Dr. Seuss reference? I’m impressed. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed your tendency to underestimate me.”
When she realized their back-and-forth was making her smile, she decided it was time to change the subject. “I’m actually glad you called. I need to check with you about something.”
She told him about the fitting that evening and Jacob’s offer to come with her. “We wouldn’t be back late—probably around eight or eight thirty. It’s not a school night, but even so, if you’d rather he stayed home, I completely understand. It wouldn’t break my heart to skip a fitting with Bridezilla.”
“No, you should go. And I might be able to get you out a little early, if it’s okay with your friend—and if you’re amenable.”
“You could suggest anything to get me out early, up to and including helping you bury a body, and I’d be amenable.”
He chuckled again. “A friend of mine has three tickets to the Yankees game tonight and can’t use them. They’re fantastic seats, field level on the third-base line. I know you’re not a sports fan, but I thought you might—”
“They’re playing the Red Sox tonight,” she interrupted.
“You know that? I’m impressed. I wouldn’t have thought you’d know the first thing about the Yankees’ schedule.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed your tendency to underestimate me.”
“Funny girl. So does this mean you’re actually a Yankees fan?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“I guess that was too much to hope for. But what about going to the game tonight? Are you interested? Or is sitting through three hours of baseball your idea of torture?”
“Let me check with my partner in crime.” She’d walked a few paces away during their conversation, and now she turned back towards Jacob as she lowered the phone. “How would you feel about going to a Yankees game tonight?”
His forehead wrinkled. “Well . . . are you going to be there?”
“Yes.”
“Then sure.”
She lifted the phone again. “We’re on, Hart.”