Coming Home by Christine S. Feldman

Author:Christine S. Feldman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, contemporary
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 2013-03-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

“So the first one to get all of their balls in the holes wins, right?”

Callie was looking up at him with a look of intense concentration, as if she was taking mental notes. She held a cue stick in one hand as if she wasn’t sure which end of it was supposed to point up.

“Pretty much. But they’re called pockets, not holes, and you can’t touch the balls directly with your cue stick.”

She frowned. “How am I supposed to get them to go anywhere then?”

Danny held up the white cue ball. “You hit this with your cue stick, and then it hits the ball of your choice. Ideally, at least.” He demonstrated for her, placing the ball on the table and striking it smoothly to send it careening toward a striped one. The striped ball sank into the corner pocket.

“Okay. Let me try.” Callie bent over the table and tried to mimic Danny’s motion. The cue ball went sailing off the table. “Son of a — ”

Danny caught it before it got very far.

“Sorry,” she said, frowning.

“Hey, it happens to everybody when they’re first learning,” he said generously, but he was grinning as he said it.

“Uh huh. How’s that wounded pride doing?”

“Better now, thank you.”

The pool hall was dimly lit, but there was enough light for him to clearly see the beginning of a smile on her lips. She turned to lean back against the pool table, and the light silhouetted the feminine lines and curves of her body, the length of her legs beneath her short skirt. The faint strains of blues music drifted through the faintly smoky air, and she drummed the fingers of one hand on the wooden rail of the table in time to the music’s beat. She made an inviting picture, and he couldn’t resist drawing closer.

“I could give you a few pointers,” he said, moving around the table to stand directly in front of her. He reached for the cue stick in her hands. “If you’re interested.”

“You’re going to turn me into a master player?”

“I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

She gave a burst of indignant laughter and threatened to hit him with her free hand. He put one arm up in front of his face in mock defense. “Fine, maestro. Bestow some of your grand expertise upon me.”

“All right.” Danny gestured behind her. “Turn around.”

She looked startled. “What?”

“Turn around. Close to the table, feet apart.” After giving him a wary look, she followed his direction. “Then lean in.” He wrapped his arms around her to place one of her hands down on the surface of the table and the other around the butt of the cue stick. Her back was against his chest, and her ear close to his mouth. A tendril of dark hair that had worked its way loose from the knot she had wound it up in brushed against his cheek like a caress, and he felt heat growing inside him again.

“Is pool by any chance an excuse men use to get their hands on a woman?” she asked over her shoulder.

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