do?”
Staring at the cupboards across from them, she didn’t answer right away. Finally she just said, “We got by.”
She didn’t want to tell him about the lean years that had followed her father’s death, the years before her mother had met and married Bob Hastings. Bob was a brick. He’d given them all a nice safe home, security, and love. He was an insurance underwriter, the kind of man a woman could depend on.
They just sat for a while, Jared mulling her story over in his head. No wonder she was so hung up on her Mr. Right being normal with a boring job. Those things equaled security to her, the security she had never had as a child.
Jared thought of himself as an individual, a good euphemism for being a little off the wall. And he had an unusual career, a career he was envied and admired for, but one the average kindergarten teacher—Genna in particular—was probably threatened by.
Based on what her father had done, Genna had convinced herself that Jared’s individuality meantirresponsibility. She’d taken one look at his diamond earring and stamped him as Mr. Wrong. He intended to show her over the next few weeks that looks often were deceiving. He was as reliable as Old Faithful. Given a little time, he hoped she’d see that.
Genna got up, padded to a cupboard and took out wineglasses, then to the refrigerator, where she removed a bottle of white wine. These she handed down to Jared. She grabbed the container of apple cookies and brought it down to the floor with her.
“So,” she asked as he poured the wine, “is your whole family as weird as you are?”
“Yep,” he said, grinning as he handed her a glass. “My dad designs twelve-meter racing yachts and builds fireworks in the garage in his spare time. My mother teaches theater at DePaul University. She speaks fluent Gaelic and once decorated each room in our house to look like the set of a different Shakespearean play.”
As they drank the wine and ate cookies, Jared told Genna about growing up in a big family where everyone was encouraged to be themselves. He told her all about his three brothers and three sisters—he was number four in the group. He’d gone to college at Notre Dame, where he’d majoredin partying and minored in chasing women. He’d come away with a degree in mass communications and a permanent knot on his head where one of the retired priests had whacked him with a crucifix for fooling around during Mass.
Genna listened, a relaxed smile on her face. Amy had told her Jared had been the most sought after high school player in the country and that he’d won the Heisman trophy his senior year of college. He’d taken over as quarterback of the Hawks his second year as a pro. The team had been on the bottom of the heap, but he’d stuck it out with them as they rebuilt into a championship team.
Jared mentioned none of these things, and Genna began to wonder how she could have thought him arrogant. Sure he’d come across the day they’d met like he’d believed his T-shirt slogan about being God’s gift to women, but she was learning that was an act of sorts. He kidded around as if he were the most obnoxious man on earth, but when it counted, he was quiet and thoughtful.
She studied him surreptitiously as he refilled their glasses, that now-familiar electric sensation zipping through her, mingling with the tinglingwarmth of wine in her belly. He was one incredibly sexy hunk of a guy. There was no denying that. She felt more and more attracted to him. There was no denying that either.
“Where on earth do you get those T-shirts?” she asked, staring at the red cotton top stretched across his mile-wide chest. Two black lobsters held up a sign that read EAT PETE’S SEAFOOD. HE NEEDS THE MONEY .
The corners of his mouth turned up. “Fans send them. It’s kind of a tradition.”
“You really don’t go out hunting for them?”
He laughed at the relief in her voice, sensing a barrier going down between them. “No,
Staring at the cupboards across from them, she didn’t answer right away. Finally she just said, “We got by.”
She didn’t want to tell him about the lean years that had followed her father’s death, the years before her mother had met and married Bob Hastings. Bob was a brick. He’d given them all a nice safe home, security, and love. He was an insurance underwriter, the kind of man a woman could depend on.
They just sat for a while, Jared mulling her story over in his head. No wonder she was so hung up on her Mr. Right being normal with a boring job. Those things equaled security to her, the security she had never had as a child.
Jared thought of himself as an individual, a good euphemism for being a little off the wall. And he had an unusual career, a career he was envied and admired for, but one the average kindergarten teacher—Genna in particular—was probably threatened by.
Based on what her father had done, Genna had convinced herself that Jared’s individuality meantirresponsibility. She’d taken one look at his diamond earring and stamped him as Mr. Wrong. He intended to show her over the next few weeks that looks often were deceiving. He was as reliable as Old Faithful. Given a little time, he hoped she’d see that.
Genna got up, padded to a cupboard and took out wineglasses, then to the refrigerator, where she removed a bottle of white wine. These she handed down to Jared. She grabbed the container of apple cookies and brought it down to the floor with her.
“So,” she asked as he poured the wine, “is your whole family as weird as you are?”
“Yep,” he said, grinning as he handed her a glass. “My dad designs twelve-meter racing yachts and builds fireworks in the garage in his spare time. My mother teaches theater at DePaul University. She speaks fluent Gaelic and once decorated each room in our house to look like the set of a different Shakespearean play.”
As they drank the wine and ate cookies, Jared told Genna about growing up in a big family where everyone was encouraged to be themselves. He told her all about his three brothers and three sisters—he was number four in the group. He’d gone to college at Notre Dame, where he’d majoredin partying and minored in chasing women. He’d come away with a degree in mass communications and a permanent knot on his head where one of the retired priests had whacked him with a crucifix for fooling around during Mass.
Genna listened, a relaxed smile on her face. Amy had told her Jared had been the most sought after high school player in the country and that he’d won the Heisman trophy his senior year of college. He’d taken over as quarterback of the Hawks his second year as a pro. The team had been on the bottom of the heap, but he’d stuck it out with them as they rebuilt into a championship team.
Jared mentioned none of these things, and Genna began to wonder how she could have thought him arrogant. Sure he’d come across the day they’d met like he’d believed his T-shirt slogan about being God’s gift to women, but she was learning that was an act of sorts. He kidded around as if he were the most obnoxious man on earth, but when it counted, he was quiet and thoughtful.
She studied him surreptitiously as he refilled their glasses, that now-familiar electric sensation zipping through her, mingling with the tinglingwarmth of wine in her belly. He was one incredibly sexy hunk of a guy. There was no denying that. She felt more and more attracted to him. There was no denying that either.
“Where on earth do you get those T-shirts?” she asked, staring at the red cotton top stretched across his mile-wide chest. Two black lobsters held up a sign that read EAT PETE’S SEAFOOD. HE NEEDS THE MONEY .
The corners of his mouth turned up. “Fans send them. It’s kind of a tradition.”
“You really don’t go out hunting for them?”
He laughed at the relief in her voice, sensing a barrier going down between them. “No,
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