Hearts in Overtime: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (31 page)

Sure enough, I turned to find her still staring at me with a goofy smile on her face. When I met her eyes, she started making stupid kissing motions by pursing her lips together.

“Grow up,” I mouthed the words at her.

Thankfully, she quit tormenting me then, her shoulders convulsing in silent laughter. As for me, I couldn’t stop smiling.

* * * *

Sunday Dinner was busier than ever. We had everyone in from the homeless shelter a few blocks over, which was currently packed to capacity, plus a whole lot of people who were living on the streets. We were expecting the large numbers, though, so we didn’t run out of food. As always, it felt great to send everyone away with their bellies filled with good, nutritious food.

But as gratifying as it was to have done our good deed for the week, we were all pretty worn out by the time it was over.

Ruth and Jen were in the kitchen, washing dishes and scrubbing surfaces, and Maria Elena, Jackson, Will and I were in the dining hall, wiping down all the tables and chairs and mopping the floors. We were actually in a school—the rich hippie parents of the Rainbow Cooperative Day School generously allowed us the use of the school’s facilities for our Sunday Dinners, and naturally we had to leave the place in pristine condition when we left for the night.

“How’s your week been, Maria Elena?” I asked, as we scrubbed down two side-by-side tables.

“Busy, of course, but what else is new?” She laughed. “Roberto wants me to come up with a dream date for our anniversary, and I’m afraid I can’t think of anything that doesn’t involve sleeping. Isn’t that awful?”

I laughed along with her. “A dream date for your anniversary, huh? That’s actually really sweet. How many years have you been married now?”

“It’ll be ten years next week.”

“Ten years!” I grinned. “That’s fantastic. You definitely have to come up with something really special.”

“I know, but what?” she asked.

“I don’t know…”

Jackson was passing by on his way back to the kitchen to empty the bucket when I stopped him.

“Hey, Jackson,” I said. “What would your ultimate dream date be? Anything goes. The sky’s the limit.”

He cocked his head to consider the question and then he said, “I’d have to go with zip-lining through the rainforest in Costa Rica, followed by a dim sum feast for dinner and then wild sex on the beach.”

Maria Elena and I both laughed, and she said, “But do you really think they have dim sum in Costa Rica?”

He shrugged. “I doubt it, but the sky’s the limit, right? Anything goes. Why do you ask, anyway?”

I explained Maria Elena’s conundrum, and then Jackson asked the same question of me.

Hmm.

“Well, since we’re dreaming big, I’m going to have to say Paris. Just Paris. When I went there back in my college days, I fell in love with that city and how romantic it was. I swore I’d return one day with someone special. I want to be kissed on the top of the Eiffel Tower,” I said.

“That sounds so lovely,” said Maria Elena. “How about you, Will? What would your dream date be?”

Oops. I hadn’t realized Will was within earshot when I started yapping about Paris, but when I turned my head to find him, he was only a couple of tables over. I felt like a dork, but oh, well.

“Honestly?” he said, looking up. “My dream date would be to make my date’s dreams come true. Say that five times fast,” he added with a chuckle.

“Oh, come on, man. That’s not what Maria Elena needs to hear. She’s looking for some ideas on how to celebrate the big ten-oh. Then again, Christina’s and my suggestions maybe weren’t the most practical,” Jackson said with a grin. “I don’t suppose jetting off to Paris or Costa Rica on a moment’s notice is really an option, is it?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Maria Elena said.

“I hear what you’re saying, but I stand by my answer,” Will said. “There’s nothing that could make me happier than the knowledge that my date is having a wonderful, magical time and that I’m responsible for it.”

“Fair enough,” said Jackson with a smile. He turned to Maria Elena and asked, “Want me to ask Ruth and Jen?”

“Definitely.”

We all went back to work, and I have to admit that I felt like I was floating on air. Will was just such a dreamy kind of guy. Talk about the man of my dreams…

I dared to peek over my shoulder at him, and I was immediately busted when I found that he was looking at me. I quickly turned away. But, wait. Hang on a second. Was he really looking at me?

Yep. He was. I turned back to find him smiling over at me as he scrubbed down one of the tables. Wow. I returned his smile and our gazes locked. My heart pounded against my ribcage as I scrubbed the same spot over and over and over again.

The spell was broken when Jackson burst back into the dining hall and said, “Jen’s dream date would be a trip to Disneyworld after hours so there wouldn’t be any lines, and Ruth said her dream date would be a couple’s massage with her husband, followed dinner on a deck somewhere looking out onto a beautiful sunset.”

“Aww,” said Maria Elena with a smile. “Is it bad that Ruth’s dream date appeals to me more than anyone else’s? After all, Roberto and I are very far from being seventy years old.”

“It’s not bad at all,” I reassured her.

Will and Jackson chimed in with agreement. Collectively, we told Maria Elena there was nothing wrong with wanting to take it easy on her dream date, and after only a little hesitation, she got on board with the idea. She said she’d start looking into spas and restaurants with west-facing outdoor seating later that night when she got online.

When both the kitchen and the dining hall were spick and span, we gathered our belongings and called it a night. Everyone scattered, and I was delighted when Will said he was parked over on Olive Street where I’d left my car, so we walked together.

Unfortunately, we’d hardly covered any ground in terms of conversation when we reached my car. For once in my life, I wished I hadn’t found such a good parking spot. Will and I had only just remarked on what a nice night it had been, and how well the Sunday Dinner had gone when I had to say, “Well, this is me.”

“Listen, Christina,” Will said. “Would you maybe like to go out sometime?”

“I would love that,” I murmured, hardly able to believe my luck.

“Cool.” He smiled. “Are you free this weekend?”

“The only thing I’ve got planned is a hot date with my vacuum cleaner,” I said, and of course then I wanted to die.

Had I actually just said that? With that stupid statement, I hit a whole new level of dorkdom. Will took it well, though. He didn’t roll his eyes or groan.

“That’s good to know,” he said with a warm smile. “Can I have your number then?”

I reached into my bag to pull a business card out of the side pocket, and then I wrote my cell number on the back of it before handing it over.

“Great,” Will said, slipping my card into his back pocket. “I’ll call you. It was really nice to meet you, Christina.”

“You too, Will.”

We stood there, smiling at each other for a moment, and then Will reached out to squeeze my hand. My heart skipped a beat or two as the electric charge from his touch sent shivers up my arm and down my spine.

“See you soon,” he said, and then he turned to go.

Only the thing is, he was walking the wrong way on Olive Street, back toward the Rainbow School.

“Hey, Will? Aren’t you parked this way?” I asked, gesturing up the street.

He gave me a sheepish grin. “Actually, I’m parked down on Clover.”

“Oh.” I bit down on my lip in an attempt to contain the smile that was quickly spreading across my face. How cool was that? The guy had gone out of his way to walk me to my car.

I felt like a million bucks as I said one last goodbye and got into my car. I couldn’t wait for the weekend.

* * * *

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” said the cocktail waitress. “May I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Yes, I’d like a glass of the house white—the
vin de maison, s’il vous plait,”
I replied.

Yes, that’s right. And no, I wasn’t dreaming, nor was I hallucinating. I was actually sitting there in an intimate little hotel bar in Paris, freakin’ France. It all went down like this:

I didn’t hear from Will until the Wednesday after we met, and then that afternoon, a messenger showed up at my office with an “important document”. Inside the mysterious envelope was a First Class airline ticket to Paris, leaving on Friday evening and returning on Sunday, and on top of that there was a Post-It with a message that read, “I hope your passport is current, but if it isn’t, let me know. I have some connections. All the best, Will.” He’d printed his phone number under his signature.

What?

What???

I stared at the airline ticket in disbelief for a moment before reaching for my phone to dial Will’s number.

“Yeah,” he said when he answered.

“Hi, Will?”

“Yep. Is this Christina?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” I said, struggling to find the right words. I should have figured out how to say what I needed to say before I placed the call. But since I didn’t, I was forced to wing it. “Um… I just got the plane ticket.”

“Oh, good. Is your passport current?” he asked.

“Yes, but… Will, this is too much. I can’t accept it.”

“Why not?”

Why not? I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it as if it might hold the answers. Shaking my head, I pressed it back up against my ear and tried to reason with the man.

“Look, I really appreciate what you’re doing here, but it’s way too extravagant. I can’t allow you to spend that kind of money on me. You hardly know me,” I said.

“I know it’s a little unorthodox to leave the country on your first date,” he said with a quiet laugh, “but I really wanted to do this for you, ever since I heard you say your dream date would take place in Paris.”

“But it’s so expensive,” I insisted.

“It’s done. The ticket is non-refundable.”

I groaned and pressed my fingertips to my temples. This was not good.

“Christina, don’t worry about it,” he said. “Honestly. Remember I told you my startup was going through some really positive changes? I can afford this no problem.”

I only sighed. It seemed so improbable that this was something he could actually afford.

“I started FreshStream,” Will said.

Oh
…

“You’re William Parker,” I murmured.

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, and I could practically hear the smile in his voice.

It all made sense now. FreshStream had been all over the news lately as this revolutionary new cloud computing system (whatever that meant—I’m pretty clueless when it comes to the technical world) and only about two weeks ago, the company went public. Profits soared, breaking records left and right.

So this was the life-changing event that inspired Will to start doing some volunteer work, to give back to the community. I loved it when things all fit together like this.

“Are we cool now?” he asked. “Will I see you in Paris?”

I smiled and found myself twirling my hair in a very coquettish sort of way, even though he couldn’t see me at all.

“I suppose you will.”

“Perfect. I’ve booked us at a really nice hotel in the Latin Quarter. Two rooms, so you don’t need to stress about that. And I’ve arranged for a driver to pick you up at the Charles De Gaulle airport. I have a meeting on Friday that’ll run a bit late, so I’m taking a later flight. How about we both rest up on Saturday morning and meet in the hotel bar at two in the afternoon, local time?”

It took me a moment to find my voice. I couldn’t believe how he had everything all planned out already.

“Um…yeah. That sounds good.”

“Great. I’m afraid I’ve got to run now, Christina. They’re waiting for me in the boardroom. But I will see you soon. Be sure to call me if anything comes up, and just so you know, my phone—this phone—will be working just fine when we’re in Paris if you need to get in touch at any time.

Still feeling somewhat dazed, I thanked Will for planning such a wildly extravagant excursion for our first date, and then I said goodbye.

Three days later, there I was in Paris freakin’ France. I got in around seven in the morning, but luckily for me my room was ready when I got to the hotel, so I was able to nap for a few hours. That was probably just about the worst thing I could do in terms of jetlag, but I hadn’t really been able to sleep on the plane and there was no way I was going to permit myself to have bloodshot eyes and eye bags on my big date with Will.

I was so nervous! Usually I prefer for the guy to arrive first on a first date, but I thought it would be nice to have a glass of wine beforehand to calm my nerves. I’d only had a couple of sips, though, before I saw Will’s handsome face in the doorway to the bar.

He spotted me right away and came over. I rose to meet him.