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Jenny confirmed what Katy had suspected-though she wasn’t always home to see it.

Alice Stryker had been coming to Bible studies at the Flanigan house. “She’s close to giving her life to the Lord.” Jenny reached across the popcorn bag and took her husband’s hand. She gave him a knowing look. “She knows she can’t make it on her own; that’s for sure.”

“Our talk the other night was pretty deep.” Jim looked at Katy. “I had two crying women on my hands.”

Katy smiled. She loved that about the Flanigans. Yes, they might ask her questions about an upcoming date but only

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because they honestly cared for her. Jenny often said, “The Flanigan family is in the business of helping people.” Katy couldn’t have agreed more. Jim and Jenny were more concerned with loving and leading people to the Lord than about anything else. That alone was the heartbeat of their home, the focus for not only their lives as a couple but for the lives of their six children-the three they’d birthed and the three they’d adopted from Haiti.

The conversation from the other night faded, and in the corner of her eye, Katy saw Terrence making his way back to the table. He wasn’t bad looking. In fact, most women would’ve found him handsome. Or at the least, cute.

But something about him seemed staid and uptight, something Katy couldn’t really put into words. She set her hands back in her lap and straightened a little.

“Hi.” She smiled.

“Hi.” He sat down and slid his chair in. “Did the waiter come by?”

Katy hadn’t paid attention. She’d been so caught up in memories of the other night that she hadn’t noticed. She looked around the room and then back at Terrence. “I don’t think so.”

He glanced at his watch. “We’ve been here five minutes, right? Wouldn’t you say?”

She felt suddenly as if she were on a game show, as if the questions he asked needed to be answered quickly and correctly or she’d be booted off the program.

“Uh …” She took a fast sip of her ice water. “I think so. Five sounds right.”

“Well-” he grinned, but it never quite reached his eyes- “that’s a percentage point.”

Katy lowered her brow, confused. “A percentage^point?”

“It’s a system I have.” He checked his watch again. “The waiter makes his first stop to the table within five minutes or I dock a percentage point from his tip.” He waved his hand in the air. “I have a whole system.”

“Oh.” Katy stared at her water. No wonder he wanted to be a 117

judge. She could only hope she’d never wind up in his courtroom.

Across from her, Terrence had his hands on the table, doing something. Katy lifted her eyes just enough to see. He was straightening his silverware, spacing the pieces so they were exactly a finger’s width apart from each other.

She felt her eyes get big. If she didn’t start talking she would either burst out laughing or run for her life. She cleared her throat. “So … did you see Robin Hoodl” It was a safe question. Katy was pretty sure the answer was yes.

After all, Terrence’s cousins were in the play.

Terrence gave a thoughtful nod. He stroked his chin, creating a buildup that would’ve been appropriate if she’d asked him his position on the death penalty.

Before he could open his mouth, the waiter breezed over to the table, breathless.

Katy looked at Terrence and wondered how many percentage points the waiter would lose if he didn’t come by the table for a full seven minutes.

The waiter’s name tag read Bart. He smiled at them and whipped out a pad of paper. “Hi, folks. How”re you doing?”

Terrence lifted his chin, giving the guy a look that screamed disdain. He glanced at his watch once more, and his expression became pointed. “You must be very busy.”

Bart poised a pencil over his paper. “Not anymore. What can I get for you to drink?”

Katy stifled a grin.

The waiter had a soft physique and a hairline heading north. But his eyes sparkled, and there was humor in his voice from the moment he said hello.

Without meaning to, Katy checked his ring finger. Empty. If things with Terrence didn’t get better fast, she could always leave her number for Bart.

Terrence looked at her. “Katy? Something to drink?”

“Yes.” She felt her spirits lifting. It was just one date. If it con 118

tinued at the pace it was going, she would always have something fun to share with Rhonda later. “Sprite, please. With a cherry in it.”

“Really?” Terrence said the word under his breath. His look made her feel as if she’d ordered a Bacardi on the rocks. He waited a beat before turning back to Bart. “I’ll stick with water.” He pushed back slightly from the table and crossed his arms. “Tell us about the specials.”

Bart seemed to realize that Terrence wasn’t in the mood for laughs. His smile faded, and he gave a very serious presentation of the fresh seafood and other specials.

“Fine.” Terrence slid his chair close to the table once again. “Give us a few minutes, please.”

Bart looked at Katy and narrowed his eyes. “You direct the Christian Kids Theater, right?”

“Right.” She smiled at him. “Have you seen our shows?”

“Definitely.” The guy was more easygoing than Terrence could ever hope to be.

“My little sister’s Hannah Warman. She’s been a townsperson in a few plays.”

“A very good one at that.” Katy cocked her head. “I thought you looked familiar.”

“Well-” he pointed to the kitchen-“I’ll get your Sprite.”

Terrence was fiddling with his silverware again, and in the time it took him to straighten his salad fork, Bart gave Katy a look-one that suggested he felt sorry for her. She gave him the hint of a smile, and before he turned around, he did the same. Yes, Bart was certainly an option.

Once he was gone, Terrence frowned. “You eat cherry garnishes?”Xs “Yes.” Again Katy had the urge to laugh, but she restrained herself and forced a dignified look. “Yes, I do.”

Terrence raised his eyebrows. “You know they’re loaded with chemicals and red dye, don’t you? I mean, you do know that, right?”

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“Now, Terrence-” she waved her hand, pretending to give him a mock brush-off-“how many chemicals could there be in a single cherry garnish?”

“Forty-seven, Katy.” He looked alarmed at her naivete. “You said you eat than, right? Meaning … more than one a year?”

“Actually …” Katy sucked in her cheeks. When she had control she nodded. “More than one a month, probably.”

“That’s very dangerous.” He gave a discouraged shake of his head. “You have no idea how many carcinogens are in a single cherry garnish. Too many to count.”

“I guess I better hope they die off in the Sprite.” She forced the corners of her mouth upward. “Right?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Sprite is loaded with sodium and sugar.” He shook his finger at her, the way Jim Flanigan shook his finger at the family dog when he chewed up a pair of socks. “Most people know about the sugar, but the sodium … truth is, most weight gain comes from sodium. You probably didn’t know that. Of course, sugar causes type 2 diabetes, but excess weight is a by-product of a high-sodium diet.”

“Oh?” Katy stared at her date. Rhonda was going to love this one. “Is that right?”

“It is. Not that you need to worry about weight. Not yet, anyway.” He made an L

with his finger and thumb and rested his chin on his thumb. With his finger framing his cheek, he looked like a lecturing professor. Or like he was trying to make a statement about himself.

Terrence went on. “They’ve done studies about sodium, on the damage it does to organs. Half the pesticides in America amount to little more than sodium chloride.” He hesitated, as if he only then realized that she might not know what sodium chloride was. “That’s the, uh, chemical compound that makes up table salt.” He gave a final nod of his head. “Sodium’s a deadly deal.”

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He was just saying “deadly deal” when Bart returned with her Sprite. He paused and looked from Katy to Terrence and back to Katy again. Tentatively, he set the drink in front of her, giving her a look that only she could see. She covered her mouth to keep from giggling. When he straightened he addressed Terrence. “A few more minutes?”

“Yes, thanks.” Terrence lifted his menu, and Bart left for another table.

Katy pulled her Sprite close, positioned the straw between her lips, and sucked up a long swig. Longer than usual. She stopped short of saying ahhhh as she swallowed.

Terrence looked at her, glanced at her drink, and shrugged sadly.

While she still had his attention, she bit the fruit off the stem, chewed the cherry a few times, and swallowed it. She could feel her eyes dancing. “Some of the best-tasting carcinogens out there.” She slid her glass partway toward him.

“Take a drink, Terrence. Live on the wild side.”

He seemed to understand that she was teasing him, joking around. He chuckled but held up his hand. “Can’t do it. Haven’t had pop since 1 was twelve. It’s a personal thing.”

“Okay.” Katy pulled her drink close again. “Your loss.”

Terrence looked as if he might launch into an explanation of. exactly how many other chemicals were contained in an eight-ounce serving of Sprite. But he changed his mind and smiled. “I like you, Katy Hart. You have spunk.”

“Yes.” She raised her glass in a mock toast. Dinner dates were few and far between in her world. She was going to have fun if she had to make it happen by herself. “My orgar^ are full of deadly sodium, but I do have spunk.”

His smile faded and he chuckled. “Maybe we should look at the menu.”

Terrence was a strict believer in no red meat. She didn’t find that out until after she ordered the big-and-beefy sirloin burger.

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His expression told her that he would’ve preferred eating a tablespoon of salt over anything from a cow.

When the meal had finally been ordered, he found his way back to the topic of Robin Hood. “I thought your approach was a little too comical.”

Katy was taking her last sip of Sprite just as he said the words too comical, and for some reason his words pushed her over the edge. A burst of laughter caught her completely off guard, and she sprayed Sprite across the table. A fine mist of it must’ve hit Terrence in the face because he scowled, and in a slow, exaggerated show of disgust, he dabbed his cheeks with his linen napkin.

“Sorry.” She put her hand over her mouth. Had she really just done that? Sprayed Sprite on her date?

The night went from bad to worse.

Over the course of the evening Katy received enough lecture time to qualify for college credit. Terrence spoke about the virtues of waterskiing with one ski versus two and how he’d been practicing and perfecting the art since he was twelve. Ironically, the same year he swore off pop forever.

Katy stopped listening when he launched into his opinion about the failing criminal-justice system and the need for stricter penalties for repeat offenders. Even if she agreed with him, she couldn’t bear to listen. Not a minute longer.

The fact that Terrence could go on for full ten-minute sessions without so much as offering her a word in response was a good thing. It gave her time to think about how different the night could have been, how she could’ve been sitting on a balcony overlooking Malibu Beach getting lost in the eyes of a man who seemed perfectly made for her. How he could’ve been taking her into his arms and kissing her, promising her he’d find a way out of the jungle of celebrity, telling her he’d do whatever he could to be with her. And she could’ve been sitting across from

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him, believing him, knowing that nothing could ever keep them apart.

She could’ve been doing all of that if it weren’t for two obvious reasons.

First, the man sitting across from her was not Dayne Matthews but Terrence C.

Willow, attorneyat-law.

And there was no getting around the second reason. No matter how she played it over in her mind, Dayne wasn’t making any promises to her. He was making them to Kelly Parker, the woman who would have his child in just a few short months.

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Dayne checked his appearance in the mirror and straightened his bow tie. Mitch Henry, the director of Dream On, had asked him and three of the movie’s other male leads to consider the premiere a black-tie affair. Dayne didn’t mind.

Black was certainly the right color. This was, after all, the day of reckoning for him and Kelly Parker.

In the mirror he could see the phone sitting on the nightstand beside his bed.

What was Katy Hart doing tonight? Was she on a date or working with her theater kids? Had she put him out of her mind, or did it only take the sight of a telephone to make her want to throw away logic and dial his number? Like it did for him.

He felt the familiar pain in his heart. After tonight, he’d have to make more of an effort to forget about Katy. It wouldn’t work to be finding love with the mother of his child while he was still drawn moment by moment to another woman.

This was the night everything would be worked out.

He’d given Kelly Parker exactly what she’d asked for-a full month to figure things out, to stop running from the fact that 124

she was pregnant and start thinking about how they were going to handle being parents. She had promised she’d make time for him at the premiere. It was slated to start in two hours, and already he had a car waiting for him outside.

Yes, Kelly had taken every bit of the time she’d asked for. During the past weeks, she’d called once. Not that he didn’t hear what she was doing and who she was with. The tabloids still shouted the news that she and Hawk Daniels were an item, living together. A week ago, two of the rags ran pictures of Hawk and her dancing at Club Twenty-One. The photo showed Kelly wrapped in Hawk’s arms, the two of them kissing as if there weren’t another person in the room.

Strange that the photo didn’t bother Dayne. He had looked at it for half a minute, then pushed the magazine aside. If Kelly was caught up with Hawk again, then the news tonight was bound to be pretty straightforward. “Thanks for the offer,” she would probably tell him, “but I’ll have the baby on my own.” And Hawk would probably be attending the premiere with Kelly.