He stretched out on the bed in his jeans and the white-on-white button-down Marc Jacobs shirt the designer’s PR people had sent him a couple of weeks ago. The Bulls called a time-out. Another night, another hotel room. He owned two condos in Chicago, one not far from the lake and another in the western ’burbs close to Stars headquarters in case he didn’t feel like fighting the traffic back into the city. But since he’d grown up in boarding school dorm rooms, no place really felt like home. Thanks, Mom.

The Tennessee farm had history and roots that grew deep, everything he lacked. Still, he wasn’t usually so impulsive, and he was having second thoughts about buying a place without an ocean nearby. A house with a hundred acres of land around it signaled a permanence he’d never experienced and might not be ready for. Still, it was only a vacation home. If he didn’t like it, he could always sell it.

He heard water running next door. A promotion came on for an upcoming story about the drowning death of country western singer Marli Moffatt. They flashed twelve-year-old news footage of Marli and Jack Patriot coming out of a Reno wedding chapel. He hit the mute button.

He was looking forward to getting the Beav naked tonight. The fact that he’d never had anybody like her made the prospect all the more interesting. He tipped a handful of peanuts into his mouth and reminded himself he’d stopped doing one-night stands years ago. The idea that he might be turning into his mother—a woman who’d been so busy snorting coke and giving head that she’d forgotten she had a son—had gotten too depressing, so he limited himself to short-term girlfriends, relationships lasting anywhere from a few weeks to a couple of months. Yet here he was about to violate a decade-long policy against casual hookups and not feeling one bit bad about it. The Beav was hardly a giggling football groupie. Even though they’d only been together for a day—and despite all the ways she raised his hackles—they had a real relationship, one forged by interesting conversation, shared meals, and similar taste in music. Most important, the Beav had proved herself a match for his BS.

The final quarter of the Bulls game had just begun when a knock sounded on the adjoining door. He needed to start the night out right by letting her know who was in the driver’s seat. “I’m naked,” he called out.

“That’s great. I haven’t done an adult nude in ages. I need the practice.”

She wasn’t biting. He smiled to himself and palmed the remote. “Don’t take this personally, but the idea of being naked in front of a woman is just plain repulsive.”

“I’m a professional. Just like a doctor. You can drape your privates if you’re uncomfortable.”