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that he prove all the things Barbara had said about him weren’t just cheap talk?
    She carefully sidestepped his touch. Instead of taking the hint, he grabbed her hand.
    Just like that. Palm against palm, fingers lacing. As if he owned her. As if they belonged together. Worse, he wasn’t even looking at her. He was talking to some father.
    She wanted to pull her hand free and demand that he stop touching her. She wanted to tell him that they weren’t together, they would never be together, and ask him what the hell was he thinking. She wanted to see if that bench seat in his truck was big enough for the two of them.
    The father walked away and Hawk turned to her. “You don’t have to order,” he said. “They know we’re coming. I called ahead to let them know when the game was over. Technically you can get a beer, but I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t like anyone drinking in front of the kids on game night. It’s probably dumb, but there it is.”
    His eyes were dark, as if they could absorb all the light in the room. She had the weirdest feeling she could get lost in his eyes, which just went to show that she’d moved past being hungry and was well into low blood sugar delusions.
    “You’re holding my hand.”
    One corner of his mouth turned up. “It’s all I can do in a crowd, but once we’re alone I’ll crank up the heat.”
    She jerked free of him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but let me be clear. You and I are never—”
    “Hey, Coach, did you order salads?” one of the cheerleaders asked. “You know some of us don’t want pizza.”
    “I ordered salads,” he said, sounding tired, then he turned back to her and grabbed her hand again. “What is it about women and their damn weight? Okay, yeah, carrying around an extra thirty or forty pounds is bad. But women today are obsessed with every fat cell and teenagers are the worst.”
    “She’s a cheerleader. What did you expect?”
    “That she should be happy she’s healthy and athletic and get off me about salad.”
    “Doesn’t your daughter worry about her weight?”
    One eyebrow raised. “You’ve been talking about me.”
    “Not on purpose. The mothers are all too willing to chat about you. I’m confident you totally love their interest and do whatever you can to fan the flames.”
    It was as if he didn’t hear anything she’d said. “You were asking questions.”
    “Did you listen at all? I didn’t ask. It wasn’t necessary. Information was offered.”
    He smiled, a slow, sexy, self-confident smile that made her both want to hit him and crawl inside of him. “I’m getting to you. I can tell.”
    “Someone just shoot me now,” she muttered.
    One of his players came up and asked him a question about the game. As Hawk answered, Nicole tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go. Short of a tugging match, she seemed trapped and couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.
    She glanced around the place and saw several mothers glaring at her. When she caught their eyes, they turned away and whispered to each other.
    “The fan club isn’t happy,” she murmured to Hawk. “I don’t know you well enough to be risking life and limb.”
    “I’m worth it.”
    “You know, if we could harness your ego, we could solve the energy crisis.”
    Just then several servers walked out carrying massive pizzas. All the kids milling around dove for tables. Hawk kept hold of her hand as he moved to a large booth in the corner, one apparently reserved for him.
    At his urging, she slid in. He followed. She found herself shifting closer and closer to make room for players and their girlfriends. Despite her efforts to keep at least six inches between them, they ended up touching from hip to knee. She tried to find a good place for her cane, but there wasn’t one.
    “I’ll take that,” Hawk said, pulling it out from under the table and placing it along the back of the booth. “What happened to your knee?”
    “I fell and tore it