He’d smiled at her in that gruff, fatherly way and said, “I’m so proud of you, Caitlin. Such a strong woman you’re becoming.”

She’d gotten it then. To a man like Joseph, these small acts of chivalry didn’t mean he saw her as lesser or weaker. It was just part of his personal code. A code he’d passed on to all four of his sons.

She also had no reason to doubt Danny’s opinion of her strength and independence. They’d raced more than once to get to something first, both of them fighting dirty. She’d pushed him into a slimy mud pool on one memorable occasion, while another time he’d gotten her into deliberate trouble with Alison just so he could win their secret race.

The memory of her silent rage and his glee made her smile as she took her seat. Shit, they’d been two hellion kids together. Kids who’d had an unspoken rule against adult intervention when it came to their bets and sneaky tricks in pursuit of glory. Jake alone had been privy to their exploits, and he’d refused to take sides, saying, “You’re both equally nutso.”

As Danny came down beside her, she turned to him, and he instinctively angled his head down to hear what she had to say. “Thank you,” she murmured, breathing in the scent of his aftershave, his jaw close enough to kiss. “For keeping me from giving that witch Mara what she wanted.”

“I doubt she wanted a broken nose and her eyeballs clawed out and crushed under your sneakers, but you’re welcome.” A nudge of her shoulder. “You know she was stirring to get media play.”

“I know. I can deal when she’s sharpening her knives on me, but she went for Posey.”

Danny placed his hand over the one she had on the armrest, warm and a little rough and as familiar to her as her own skin… and yet it felt different tonight, in the whispering semidark of the theater. She wanted to slide her hand away but was all too aware of the eyes on them. It still took everything she had to keep it in place.

Then he was speaking, the deep timbre of his voice drawing her attention. “I get it,” he murmured. He ran the pad of his thumb over her skin. “What I don’t understand is why she got so catty with you. You’re an athlete, and whatever else she is, she’s a damn good sports journalist.” The man looked genuinely mystified.

“Are you really that clueless, hotshot?”

When he raised an eyebrow, she said, “Ahem” and nodded to their clasped hands.

He stared as if he’d only just become aware of the fact he’d been stroking her… holding her. But he didn’t break contact. “Oh right. She thinks we’re…”