Free Her Perfect Man by Jillian Hart Page B

of good sportsmanship. The shake was watery, but represented more. They were friends. She knew they were going to be really good friends as time went on. She liked that idea very much.
    Dean, one of the other counselors, held up the ball, and Rebecca prepared herself to spring. She noticed Chad did the same. Since he was watching her instead of the ball, he was slow when Dean’s whistle blasted above the pool noise. She leaped, stretched as far as she could and tipped the ball toward her team. They were off to a promising start.
     
    How had his side lost? Chad marveled about that through the rest of the afternoon and on the drive home. He could be a chauvinist and say that boys didn’t lose to girls, but that wasn’t like him. Not to mention, it wasn’t the issue. He was a good swimmer and a complete athlete. His twelve-year-olds were enthusiastic athletes. The other kids—eleven and ten-year-olds—were no slouches. And Dean, the other counselor on his side, was at MSU on a sports scholarship. All that, and they still lost.
    Rebecca and her girls had taken the lead early, lost and recovered it by making the last four goals of the game. He didn’t know about the other guys, but he’d really had a workout. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. Now he was going to have to figure out what to do about dinner.
    He pulled into his driveway and realized that a little red Honda was cruising down the road. He hit the garage remote and by the time he’d parked and dragged his duffel bag out from the backseat, she was idling in her driveway waiting for her door to open.
    This was the moment of truth. He gave her a wave and there was no mistaking the grin on her face as she powered down her passenger side window.
    “Hey there, stranger.” She slid the sunglasses down her nose. “What’s for dinner?”
    “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He splayed his hands on the sun-warmed car door and peered through the open window at her. “I don’t suppose you’ll settle for takeout? I could serve it on plates in my kitchen?”
    “Not a chance, mister. I’m in the mood for a homemade meal.”
    “You’re torturing me. You know that, right?”
    “I do.” She sparkled at him like the rarest of gems.
    His chest tightened. He sure liked her. Very much. More and more as he spent time with her. The last thing he wanted to do was to disappoint her. “I don’t suppose microwaving a frozen dinner counts?”
    “There has to be something you can cook. Barbecuing counts.”
    “Whew. You just made my day. I happen to be a competent barbecuer.”
    “Good. I’ll go in and change and be right over.”
    “Wait. There is one little problem.”
    “Problem?” She squinted up at him. “I’m afraid to ask.”
    “Ephraim’s the owner of the barbecue and as far as I know, it’s out of propane.”
    “Hard to barbecue without a heat source.” She folded her glasses and slid them into their leather case. “If you’re hoping that I will let you off the hook, then you are going to be one disappointed man.”
    “I don’t want off the hook.”
    “Good.” She liked the way he was so sincere in his reassurance. She always knew where she stood with him. “Then you can come over and use mine.”
    “Great. That’s mighty generous of you, Rebecca, seeing as I’m the big loser here.”
    “You’re not a loser from where I’m standing. You play a good game of water polo.”
    “As do you. I had a lot of fun today.”
    “Me, too. I’m looking forward to next week’s rematch.”
    “I’ll see you in a few.” He pushed away from the car.
    As she eased into the shade of the garage, why did her heart give a funny little skip? Sure, she was looking forward to spending the evening with him, but as friends only.
    She grabbed her gym bag and purse and popped out of the seat. The garage door was motoring down when her cell rang. She juggled her keys, checked the screen and unlocked the inside garage door.