“Yeah, I kinda—well, I’m keeping my nose clean these days.”

  She smirked. “I read you did the rehab thing. Of course, it’s what public figures do—the walk of redemption, so to speak.” She was laughing now.

  His head went down and he wouldn’t look at her.

  “Oh, look at you getting all embarrassed. You weren’t nearly so flustered the night you showed me your hidden tat.” Her gaze dropped below his belt. “An eagle in flight, if I recall.”

  She pressed a room card into his palm. “I’m here covering the tournament. We can have a private interview, out of the public eye. And completely off the record.” She winked, brushed her fingers across his arm.

  Danny appeared, his nose covered in thick, white sun block. He wedged himself between he and Sylvia. “So, hey—what do you get if you cross an Idaho sports reporter with a vegetable?” He looked at them with expectation. “A common tater!”

  Danny slapped Ryan on the back. “Get it? Idaho spuds?”

  His caddie glanced warily between the two of them. “Uh, never mind.” He turned to Ryan. “Hate to interrupt this little party B-Man, but Lyons is looking for you.”

  “Guess that’s my cue.” Sylvia tucked her iPad inside her bag. With a cagey glint, she added, “I hope I see you later.”

  “Who was that?” Danny asked, his gaze following Sylvia Naughton’s backside as she stepped inside the clubhouse.

  “Trouble,” Ryan told him, his gut suddenly tight. “Nothing but trouble.”

  7

  Beth glanced at her watch. She’d been so busy all afternoon she’d had little opportunity to consider the consequences of her earlier moment of weakness—when she’d foolishly consented to have dinner tonight with a golf pro who was fresh out of rehab, a walking bomb that could explode at any time. At great detriment to the golf tournament, she might add. Even worse, to her professional reputation.

  She knew better than to let herself fall for someone with his reputation—worse, someone fresh out of rehab. The entire scenario was a walking, talking repeat of the revolving door of men who had been in and out of her childhood—thanks to her mother.

  All men—whether they wore a business suit, a John Deere cap or a golf polo—were potential trouble. She couldn’t afford that kind of drama right now. Not when she was on the brink of making her career dreams come true.

  Perhaps she should back out.

  Walking to her car, she’d weighed her options. It was true, Ryan Banderman seemed to have sucked her brain cells dry. Even so, if the sexy golf pro thought he was going to make her fall head-over-heels in love with him, he was wrong.

  So wrong.

  After climbing into her car, she looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror, surprised that she looked a little shell-shocked. Worried, too. But there was something else in her expression, something that shouldn’t have been there at all.

  Anticipation.

  No doubt, there’d been a palpable draw between the two of them. Being close to him made her brain go all fuzzy. Beth wished she weren’t so aware of him . . . and that he wasn’t so darn attractive, period.

  She certainly felt the spark, and suspected he did as well.

  In the end, she convinced herself that spending the evening out with Ryan Banderman was a one-time thing. She’d join him for dinner as a thank-you for being so nice after her unfortunate tumble. As far as anyone else would know, she’d simply agreed to meet with one of the golf pros to discuss issues surrounding the tournament. She, of anyone, knew how easily things could be spun.

  Of course, there might be those who would speculate otherwise.

  She needed a strategy. In fact, she knew just the thing that would provide the safety factor needed. She’d get the upper hand and establish very firm boundaries that would keep this encounter limited to a professional level, purely platonic.

  And that was the plan—that is until she exited the elevator a few hours later and saw him standing there.

  * * *

  The elevator doors opened.

  Ryan shifted nervously, waiting and watching as people spilled out chattering. Finally, he saw her. Beth saw him too, and he was happy to see her face brighten as she timidly waved in his direction.

  Feeling a bit heady, he rushed to meet her, taking in how pretty she looked in a yellow sleeveless dress with matching sandals. While the shoes were great, her bare legs were what stole the show. Cleavage rocked most guys’ boats, but he was a leg man, and Beth’s did not disappoint.

  “Hey,” he said, drawing his new friend into a brief embrace. She immediately stiffened, which caused him to pull back. “Uh, sorry.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “No, it’s okay. I just—well, I think it’s best if we keep this—” She motioned between them.

  “This?” he asked.

  “Uh, let’s keep the fact that we’re friends—”

  “Oh, right. Sure.” He leaned in, lowered his voice. “Just between us professional acquaintances, you look great!”

  A shy smile nipped at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you. You don’t look half bad yourself.”

  The comment pleased him.

  Like some schoolgirl, he’d stood before a mirror conflicted about whether to wear a polo, or a button-down. He’d gone with the button-down, and rolled the sleeves a bit to lend a more casual appearance. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard.

  Dating while sober was definitely more of a challenge than the reckless don’t care attitude that accompanied a couple of shots followed by beer chasers.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked on the way out to the car. “I made reservations at Bigwood Grill. The hospitality director at the lodge highly recommended the place. She says the restaurant features a great chef from Lima, Peru and outdoor dining overlooking the golf course.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Outside, she glanced his way, her expression tentative. “I have a confession.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I invited someone to join us.”

  He swallowed against disappointment welling in his throat. “Yeah? Who’s that?”

  She pointed to an older couple standing at the edge of the pond in front of the lodge. They had a little boy with them who was tossing what appeared to be pieces of bread onto the surface of the water, which caused several hungry swans to glide that way.

  The man and his wife looked up and waved.

  Beth waved back. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you.”

  * * *

  Beth led Ryan to where an older couple was standing with Nicholas Murdock, the little boy who was chosen as the poster child for the All Fore Love charity, and her safety factor for the evening. “Ike, Luna—this is Ryan Banderman. He’ll be playing in tomorrow’s tournament.”

  Ike extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, son. You’re an impressive golf player.”

  “Thank you.” Ryan shook their hands. “Nice to meet you both.” He knelt in front of the little boy. “And who are you?”

  “I’m Nicholas and I am five years old.”

  “You are?”

  “Uh-huh. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-nine and holding.”

  Nicholas tilted his head and looked at Ryan with huge doe-like brown eyes. “But how old would you be if you let go?”

  “Really, really old.”

  Nicholas nodded. “Okay, I thought so.”

  They all laughed. Beth especially.

  She’d worried about pulling that little trick on Ryan, had certainly seen the initial `disappointment in his eyes. No doubt he was wondering what he’d gotten himself into by asking her to join him for dinner only to discover she’d turned it into a group event.

  Truth was, she’d made it entirely clear this wasn’t a date. Besides, Ike and Luna surely could use a temporary break from their responsibilities, especially at their age. She was thankful to be able to offer them an evening to themselves. That, and she adored Nicholas Murdock. Who wouldn’t?

  Never mind taking a little kid along would create a measure of safety, keep everything on a professional level.

  She was more than aware of Ryan’s intense gaze as she bid Nicholas’ foster parents goodbye and promised to get little Nicholas home early.

  They moved for the parking lot with Ryan close behind. Was it his proximity or the chilled mountain evening air that caused the tingle on her bare arms?

  Ryan slipped his jacket around her shoulders before she could refuse it. She couldn’t help but be warmed by not only the jacket, but his gesture—and the trace of cologne on the collar.

  A little unnerved at the way her emotions were betraying her good sense, she squeezed little Nicholas’ hand. “Are you hungry? I am.”

  The little guy nodded enthusiastically. “I’m really hungry for a milkshake mostly.”

  She smiled at Ryan as he opened the car door. “Well, I’m with you. That sounds delicious.”

  On the way to dinner, while Nicholas was busy in the backseat playing with her iPad, she told Ryan his story. “So, you see—Nicholas is a little atypical. While many of the foster children the foundation helps are in unsafe situations and often temporarily removed from their home, Nicholas is a permanent foster child waiting to be adopted.”

  Ryan’s expression grew thoughtful. His thumb drummed the steering wheel. “I know how the kid feels. I lost my own folks to a car accident. I was nine.”

  The information kicked at Beth. Had she known, she wouldn’t have poked at his tender spot in such a cavalier manner. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” He shrugged. “Besides, that was a long time ago. I think it’s great what you’re doing with the foundation and all. I’m really glad to be a part of the tournament.” He looked across the seat in her direction. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t I cancel our dinner reservation? Instead, we can head over to Trail Creek. I saw a brochure in the room and they have a putting course. We can pick up some burgers there.”

  “Do they have ‘banilla milkshakes?” Nicholas asked.

  Ryan glanced in the rearview mirror. “You bet they do!”

  She grinned. “That sounds like an excellent plan!” She looked back at little Nicholas. “Doesn’t it, buddy?”

  He nodded enthusiastically.

  A short while later, Ryan pulled the car into a parking space near a large quaking aspen tree.

  “Have you ever played golf, Nicholas?” Ryan asked as he cut the engine.

  The little boy shook his head. “No. But I saw a little kid fall on the sidewalk once. He hurt his knee.”

  Beth shifted her attention to the backseat. “Oh no. That’s too bad. What did you do?”

  Nicholas shrugged. “I just helped him cry.”

  Ryan looked in her direction and their eyes met. “Sometimes that’s the very best thing, buddy,” she told their little friend in the backseat.

  When they finished eating, they wandered into the golf shop, stomachs full and ready to play. Ryan pulled out his credit card and rented a bucket of balls and some putters, one small enough to fit the hands of a five-year-old.

  “Good luck in the tournament tomorrow.” The young guy behind the counter handed Ryan back his card and the receipt.

  Ryan nodded. “Thanks.”

  He handed the club to Nicholas. The little guy’s eyes brightened. “This is gonna be fun!”

  On the green, Ryan explained the object was to hit the ball into the little hole. “Now, the best approach is to crouch like this before you ever take a shot.” Ryan lowered himself into a position that allowed a view of the slope. “Close one eye and check out the distance to the hole and establish whether you have a straight shot.”

  Beth watched as Nicholas did his best to mimic Ryan’s actions. Her heart swelled to see the look of engagement on both their faces. She wasn’t entirely sure what Ryan’s reaction would be to spending time with a five-year-old. She needn’t have worried. He was marvelous with the young boy.

  She would never say this out loud, but admittedly the way Ryan smiled with his whole face, revealing deep dimples and a cleft slightly camouflaged by the stubble on his chin, left her knees a bit wobbly.

  If the situation were different, she might risk allowing things to progress between them. She didn’t necessarily want to grow into a lonely old woman. The problem was that often guys couldn’t be trusted. She’d learned that the hard way. Plus, mixing business with personal was never a good idea.

  Ryan positioned Nicholas’ dimpled fists and showed him the proper way to hold his putter. The little guy whacked the ball and sent it flying across the manicured green in a surprisingly straight line. The ball rolled slowly to a stop only inches from the hole.

  “Look at that, buddy!” Ryan pumped his arm. “You’re a natural.”

  Nicholas pumped his own little arm. “I’m a natural.” He bared his teeth and growled. “And a dinosaur. I’m a T-Rex.”

  Beth laughed. “Yes, you are. A very scary one.”

  Suddenly, Ryan was right beside her. His nearness startled her. “Oh!”

  “Your turn,” he said, staring. He handed her a putter.

  Flustered, she gripped the club and took her swing. The tiny white ball raced across the green in breakneck speed and landed several feet past the hole.

  She shrugged. “I’m a little out of practice.”

  Little Nicholas patted her on the leg. “You’ll do better next time, Miss Beth.”

  Ryan moved behind her. “Here, let me help.” He dropped a ball a few inches in front of her feet, reached around and positioned his arms around her own. “Once you plant your feet in the proper stance, the key to distance control is to roll the ball, not hit it. To do this, lean your weight slightly favoring your left side and position your putter shaft leaning toward the target.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as his hand covered her own. The touch was as light as a whisper, but left a trail of fire. She couldn’t move if she tried. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  “Like this?” she asked, following his instructions the best she could.

  “That’s it,” he said, his lips so near her ear she could feel the heat of his breath.

  Her scrambled brain took two full seconds before she remembered to make contact with the ball, slowly hitting it with a solid and steady swing.

  “Great follow through,” Ryan said, praising her effort.

  The ball rolled slowly to a spot inches above the hole, turned and drifted in the proper direction and plopped right in the cup.

  “Yay! You did it!” Little Nicholas jumped up and down.

  Her heart swelled with the feeling of accomplishment. “I sure did.” She felt a strange urge to throw her arms around Ryan’s neck and give him a hug, but stubbornly forced the feeling aside.

  Instead, she turned and smiled. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Ryan helped fasten Nicholas into his car seat. The little guy’s eyelids had grown heavy.

  “Poor baby,” Beth remarked as she closed the car door and moved to the other side of the vehicle. “No doubt he’ll be asleep before we get him back to Ike and Luna.”

  Ryan reminded himself that he needed to take things slow, no matter how his heart raced when he stood close to her. “No doubt,” he muttered, trying to control his reaction as he moved to open the car door.

  She smelled like lilacs. He had to fight the urge to lean in and bury his face in her hair as she bent and slid into his front seat. She felt something too, he could tell. Especially when she smiled and looked at him with those huge light green eyes.

  Even so, they both interacted with restraint, the polite dance of two people on a first date—or whatever label you placed on the time they’d spent together.

  “Hey, I really enjoyed tonight,” he told her as he started the engine.

  She drew a deep breath. A tiny smile sprouted on her face. “Yeah, me too.” She forced her eyes from his. “I’d like to maybe do it again—sometime.”

  He grinned back at her. “You mean, like a real date?”

  “Oh, heck no.” She laughed but after a second she lifted her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Possibly.”

  She quickly diverted her attention out the window. “You couldn’t ask for better weather. Tomorrow’s tournament should be fantastic.”

  “So, now we’re going to talk about the weather?” he teased.

  She smothered a smile. “What’s wrong with discussing the weather?”

  In a bold move, he reached for her hand, indulged the moment by tracing her finger with his own. He waited to see if she’d pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, a surprising wave of shyness lowered her eyes.

  “I’m serious.” He waited for her to finally dare to look across the seat, before he smiled and added, “I had a good time tonight. I haven’t had this much fun in—well, in a while.”

  Her green eyes twinkled. “Especially on an evening with such beautiful weather.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, especially with this nice weather.”

  She gently pulled her fingers from his grasp, fingered her hair. “So, why golf?”

  “You interviewing me?”

  She shrugged. “Um, maybe.”

  Before starting the engine, he took a drink from the bottle of water nestled in his cup holder and considered her question. “My grandpa played. I adored him and cherished every minute he let me follow him around the course. He used to tell me life was like a golf game. There would be some birdies, a few par shots, and more than a few bogeys. He assured me I had all the tools in my bag to drive the ball down the green, that I was capable of anything I wanted to accomplish in life. The difference between winners and losers is that the winners kept swinging, no matter what.”

  She nodded. “That’s the PR plug you tell. I’ve no doubt your grandpa influenced your love for the game, but no one goes pro without a profound drive for the sport.” She cocked her head and stared at him. “So, I’ll ask. Why did Ryan Banderman go pro?”

  He liked this girl. She was sweet, no hard edges. That didn’t mean you could pull one over on her. She seemed to have a knowledge of the world and the people in it that only comes from astute observation.

 

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