After Hours Bundle by Karen Kendall Page B

another contradiction about her that intrigued him.
    â€œOkay, so now that we’ve established that I’m not a stalker,” he said, “why are you trying to sabotage this thing between us before it even gets off the ground?”
    â€œHey, I’m just trying to cut through the dating bullshit, you know? I’m so sick of it.”
    He shook his head at her. “The ‘dating bullshit,’ as you call it, can be fertilizer. Something extraordinary might bloom from spreading it around.”
    She laughed. “You have a refreshing perspective on all this, don’t you, Troy?”
    â€œYour own perspective is certainly unique—though I won’t call it refreshing. I call it downright cynical.”
    â€œC’mon, I’m just brave enough to verbalize what we’re all thinking. How many times have you sat opposite a woman and thought, Christ. I already know I can’t stand her but I have to sit through two more hours of this and then pay for her dinner and drive her ass home .”
    Troy couldn’t help but laugh.
    Peggy continued in a parody of a man’s voice, “And I probably won’t even get a good-night kiss for my trouble, much less get laid.”
    This went so far as to get a pig snort out of him while he tried to catch his breath. Finally he said, “You are not a nice woman.”
    â€œI agree. But am I accurate?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œSo why don’t we have that drink at either your place or mine and not play the games?”
    â€œAll right, all right. We’ll go to yours. Mine is a wreck, since I’m in the middle of remodeling.”
    â€œGreat. Take a left up here, and then an immediate right…. By the way, I’m not a slut. It’s just that you’re…different.”
    He hooted. “If I only had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that line from a woman.”
    Peggy seemed nonplussed.
    â€œWhat, no caustic comment? As long as we’re being up-front and not playing games, darlin’, I’m fully aware that it was my wallet and my job that were ‘different,’ not me.” But those days are gone, Troy thought gloomily. Now I’m chopped liver.
    â€œI’m not impressed by money,” she said stiffly. “And I’m not impressed by your former football stardom, either. I made my college team and started, too.”
    Silence fell in the car.
    â€œYou what? ” Troy asked. “Was it a women’s college?”
    â€œNo,” she said icily, “it was not. It was Bryce University.”
    After a stunned moment he said slowly, “I remember reading about it. How a girl fought her way onto the team, a placekicker. That was you? ”
    â€œThat was me.”
    He looked at her with new respect. “I’ll be damned. What was it like for you? To be the only woman in that sea of testosterone?”
    She avoided his eyes. “Let’s just say that I had my highest highs and my lowest lows during the season I played.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you go back?” Troy pulled the Lotus into the parking lot behind an apartment building. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that question. The guys would have made it miserable for her, and even male placekickers weren’t viewed with respect. They weren’t considered “real” players, didn’t go through the same drills or practice plays.
    She avoided the question by getting out of the car before he’d cut the engine, not waiting for him to open her door. Her hair fell down her back like a coppery waterfall, ending just above a neat little waist and a spectacular ass. Those legs were solid with muscle, only the inner thighs soft and welcoming.
    Troy liked the way the moonlight softened her, bathed her in a gentle glow. He tried to divert himself from the thought that she was bare to the air under her black cotton miniskirt. He’d ripped the panties off her, after