“I was being sarcastic.”

“Why?”

“Because this is a sports bar.”

“You don’t like sports bars? That’s weird.” He held the door open for her.

She rolled her eyes and followed him in. The place was huge and noisy, smelling of stale beer, french fries, and aftershave, all topped off with eau de gym. The bar opened into a bigger room with tables, games, and cinder-block walls displaying the logos of the Chicago teams. She glimpsed an even larger area in the back holding metal lockers and a sand volleyball court surrounded by orange plastic fencing. Blow-up sex dolls, beer signs, and Star Wars light sabers hung from the open rafters. Boys would be boys. Thankfully, not the sort of place her friends would be prone to hang out.

She’d dressed down for the evening, digging out an old pair of magenta cotton slacks, a clingy navy top with a built-in bra, and flat sandals. She’d even traded in her diamond studs for simple silver hoops. She followed Bodie past a rowdy group of twenty-somethings who were ignoring the overhead televisions to do tequila shots at the bar. As the crowd parted, she grew conscious of the women’s eyes on Bodie. A few greeted him by name. Muscle-bound men always tended to look sloppy, but his espresso brown polo shirt and chinos couldn’t have fit him better, and every woman in the place noticed.

She slipped into his wake, which was large enough to keep people from bumping against her, and let him lead her to a table that afforded a view of a mechanical bull and the volleyball game in the next room. Ordering either wine or a mixed drink struck her as high risk, so she settled on a lite beer, but asked that it be served in the bottle. Easier to guard against roofies.

He kicked back with his own beer and openly studied her. “How old are you?”

“Old enough to know this is the worst date of my life.”

“Women like you are hard to figure. Your skin is great, but you’ve got old eyes.”

“Anything else?” she asked coldly.

“I figure forty-three, forty-four.”

“I’m thirty-seven,” she snapped.

“No, I’m thirty-seven. You’re forty-two. I did some research.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to see if you give yourself away when you lie.” Amusement danced in his pale eyes. “Now I know.”

She resisted taking the bait. “Is this date over yet?”

“Just getting started. I think we should wait till after we play to eat, don’t you?”

“Play?”

He jerked his head toward the volleyball court. “We’ve got a game in forty minutes.”

“Oh, right. And that would be just after I walk out, right?”

“I already signed us up. You have to play.”

“Wrongo.”

“I should have told you to bring shorts.”

“You probably had too many other weighty matters on your mind.”

He smiled. “You are one beautiful bitch.”

“Thank you.”

His smile grew broader, and her skin prickled. Once again, she considered the possibility that he wasn’t as dumb as he seemed to be.