The sun was hot and I sipped my water until it was gone. I had no idea how long they practiced, but I needed a few hours before dinner to begin typing notes from my recorder. My first article was due Sunday morning. I wanted it ready and only needing a line or two added after the final score of the match.

I left the field while the team was practicing the jumping lift thing I'd seen in a few videos. My room was nice and cool. I finished typing my notes by six and took a shower in preparation for dinner.

With limited options, I decided on comfortable jeans and a loose, dark blue top. I wore flat shoes because they were steady. I don't know why I put on a little more makeup than usual. God, now I was lying to myself. I knew exactly why I added the extra makeup and his name was a three-letter word.

Van knocked on my door at seven. He held a vase of yellow daisies and had a slight blush on his cheeks. What Van was this? I would bet a paycheck the man never blushed in his life.

"They reminded me of you," he said as I stood at the door unsure of what to say. "I knew you wouldn't have a vase here so they come with their own."

I finally found my voice. "They're beautiful, but this isn't a date, Van." Where my shyness disappeared to I had no idea.

He gave me his pouty face. "No, it's an apology for how I acted earlier today." His eyes looked so sincere.

I wondered which inappropriate behavior he spoke of, but decided not to ask. I took the flowers and sat them on the dresser. "So where am I taking you for dinner?" He tried taking a step closer, but I deftly moved around him.

He gave a loud, dramatic sigh. "At least I can look forward to the arm wrestling since calling you "babe" and putting my hands on you is off limits."

He was smarter than he looked and smoother than I could handle. For some reason I couldn't help laughing. I put out my arm and flexed. "You want a piece of this, huh?"

He tapped my bicep with the tips of two fingers. "I didn't know what I was up against, and I'll need to work out extra hard if I want a chance of taking you."

He was such a bad boy. Sweet and innocent one minute, sexual and calculating the next. My inexperience at handling flirting was evident to me. The straightforward keep your hands off approach I somehow pulled out despite my shyness seemed to work best. Maybe it would get easier.

Van walked me out and kept his hands to himself. He stopped at a Range Rover. Through my classified work at the newspaper, I knew exactly what I was sitting down in. Holy shit, this baby cost almost 200k. I wouldn't make this much money in five years. The electronics alone were amazing.

"Like it?"

I had to keep myself from kissing the leather. "How could I not? She's beautiful."

The corner of his lips tilted up. "She?"

"Well Carmen, my car, is a she, so it's habit."

He chuckled. "What type of car is Carmen?"

This would show the exact difference in our worlds. "A 1999 Ford Focus."

He didn't bat an eye at her age or model. "Named Carmen?"

"Yes. She's reliable and gets me from point 'a' to point 'b'. I don't know what I'll do when she's gone. They don't make 'em like her anymore."

He revved the engine. "No, they make them much better."

If you could afford it, I thought to myself. I wasn't in a sports car, but I felt the power of the engine. Unlike in Carmen, the traffic noise from outside didn't invade the inner sanctuary, and if the road was bumpy, I couldn't tell.

Van hadn't answered my question about where we were going. And very unusual given my normal reluctance to speak, the quiet in the car was getting to me. "Besides the wonder of rugby, what does Colt, Ohio, have to offer?" I asked as a way to start some kind of conversation. His scent was also activating my inner thigh girl parts again, and I really wanted to keep my panties dry. Heat flooded my face and I hoped he wouldn't notice.

Van gave me a searing glance before turning back to the road. "The only thing more wonderful than rugby is sex. And don't get all defensive with me either. It's an honest answer."

Dammit, so much for wishful thinking. "With your father in Cleveland and half the year in L.A., wouldn't you have better access to both if you lived in California?"

Without using his blinker, he turned right. "I see you did some snooping today?"

"No, well yes, but my boss was the first one who mentioned your dad. Apparently your father plays golf with the Journal's owner and the two of them arranged the series of articles I'm writing."

"Fair enough. What else did your snooping reveal?"

I hated to mention his mother, but he asked. "That you and Joel could have moved to California after your mother died."

He looked straight ahead without answering, and I felt I crossed a line. It was actually sad; I wanted a career in investigative journalism and needed to learn to cross lines. I just didn't have it in me to hurt someone intentionally.

I was surprised when Van finally answered, "My dad had just married his third wife. We didn't want to leave here, and the third wife didn't want us moving in. He arranged something that worked for everyone."

"You love your father." I could hear it in his voice.

Though it wasn't a question, he answered. "He's my dad. You take the good with the bad and he does the same with us."

Oh, a man thing, hard to admit to love. This didn't surprise me. "What about your brother?" What I really wanted to ask was why his brother disliked me.

"My brother's the serious one. Always has been. Don't expect too much from him. He was more of a momma's boy than me."

"He's got to be six four or more. I have trouble picturing him as a momma's boy."

Van's jaw tightened and his voice held a touch of something I couldn't define. "Joel carries a lot of anger. He takes it out on the field. Nothing I can do about it and nothing I want to do about it. Let's talk about you. Where did you grow up?" He pulled into the parking lot of a large steakhouse. "Hold that thought. Let's get seated first."