Read Rules of the Game for Free Online

more male in a suit coat and slacks—and somehow his face was even more attractive in the shadowed half-light of her front porch. Her plans to ask him in for a drink were aborted. The sooner they were in a crowd the better. “I’m starving,” she said as his fingers closed over hers. “Shall we go?” Without waiting for his answer, she shut the door at her back.
    Parks led her to the car then turned. In heels, she was nearly eye level with him. “Want me to put the top up?”
    â€œNo.” Brooke opened the door herself. “I like the air.”
    She leaned back and shut her eyes as he started back down toward the city. He drove fast, but with the studied control she had sensed in him from the beginning. Since speed was one of her weaknesses, she relaxed and enjoyed.
    â€œWhat were you doing at the game the other night?”
    Brooke felt the smile tug at her mouth but answered smoothly, “A friend had some tickets. She thought I might find it interesting.”
    â€œInteresting?” Parks shook his head at the word. “And did you?”
    â€œOh, yes, though I’d expected to be bored.”
    â€œI didn’t notice any particular enthusiasm in you,” Parks commented, remembering her calm, direct stare. “As I recall, you didn’t move through nine innings.”
    â€œI didn’t need to,” she returned. “You did enough of that.”
    Parks shot her a quick look. “Why were you staring at me?”
    Brooke considered for a moment, then opted for the truth. “I was admiring your build.” She turned to him with a half smile. The wind blew the hair into her face, but she didn’t bother to brush it aside. “It’s a very good one.”
    â€œThanks.” She saw a flash of humor in his eyes that pleased her. “Is that why you agreed to have dinner with me?”
    Brooke smiled more fully. “No. I just like to eat. Why did you ask me?”
    â€œI liked your face. And it’s not every day I have a woman stare at me as if she were going to frame me and hang me on her wall.”
    â€œReally?” She gave him an innocent blink. “I’d think that pretty typical in your profession.”
    â€œMaybe.” He took his eyes off the road long enough to meet hers. “But then you’re not typical, are you?”
    Brooke lifted a brow. Did he know he’d given her what she considered the highest compliment? “Perhaps not,” she murmured. “Why don’t you think so?”
    â€œBecause, Brooke Gordon, I’m not typical either.” He burst out of the woods and onto the highway. Brooke decided that she’d better tread carefully.
    The restaurant was Greek, with pungent foods, spicy scents and violins. While Parks poured her a second glass of ouzo, Brooke listened to a waiter in a grease-splattered apron sing lustily as he served souvlaki. As always, atmosphere pulled at her. Caught up, she watched and absorbed while managing to put away a healthy meal.
    â€œWhat are you thinking?” Parks demanded. Her eyes shifted to his, disconcerting in their directness, seducing in their softness.
    â€œThat this is a happy place,” she told him. “The sort you imagine a big family running. Momma and Poppa in the kitchen fussing over sauces, a pregnant daughter chopping vegetables while her husband tends bar. Uncle Stefos waits tables.”
    The image made him smile. “Do you come from a large family?”
    Immediately the light went out of her eyes. “No.”
    Sensing a boundary, Parks skirted around it. “What happens when the daughter has her baby?”
    â€œShe pops it in a cradle in the corner and chops more vegetables.” Brooke broke a hunk of bread in half and nibbled.
    â€œVery efficient.”
    â€œA successful woman has to be.”
    Leaning back, Parks swirled his drink. “Are you a successful woman?”
    â€œYes.”
    He