The Way Home by Irene Hannon Page A

grin. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m as surprised by the invitation as you are?”
    She couldn’t doubt the sincerity in his eyes. “Yes.”
    â€œSo how about it?”
    She tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. “Can I ask why?”
    He paused to consider. “That’s a fair—but tough—question,” he replied candidly. “Frankly I have no idea. Maybe because I feel I still owe you a dinner. Maybe because I enjoyed our evening together. Maybe because it would make my grandmother happy.”
    She eyed him warily, but now there was a slight twinkle in her eye. “I’m not even going to ask about that last reason.”
    â€œGood. So?”
    She studied him for another few seconds, then gave a slight shrug. “Why not?”
    He smiled, and the warmth in his eyes brought a flush to her cheeks. “Great. Give me ten minutes to shower and change.”
    Cal headed back toward the boys still on the court as Amy stared after him.
    â€œWhat was that all about?”
    With an effort she tore her gaze from Cal’s retreating figure and looked up to find that Steve had returned. “He asked me out to dinner.”
    Steve’s eyebrows rose. “No kidding! What brought that on?”
    â€œI have no idea.”
    â€œWell, maybe it will give you a chance to pump him for that angle you’re after.”
    â€œMaybe.”
    But oddly enough, for a woman who always put business first, the very last thing on her mind at the moment was the Jamie Johnson trial.

Chapter Five
    B y the time Cal reappeared fresh from the shower exactly ten minutes later—looking fabulous in worn jeans that fit like a glove, a cotton shirt with the long sleeves rolled back to the elbows and his wet hair even darker than usual—the modicum of poise Amy had regained during his absence immediately evaporated.
    â€œRight on time,” she remarked breathlessly, glancing at her watch as she struggled to control the sudden staccato beat of her heart.
    â€œMy grandmother always told me never to keep a pretty lady waiting,” Cal said with a wink, which did nothing to restore her equilibrium.
    She was glad he wasn’t privy to her elevated pulse rate—although there was nothing she could do to hide the telltale flush that suffused her face at the unexpected compliment. “I think I like your grandmother,” she replied, struggling for a light tone.
    He chuckled. “She’s a hard lady not to like. Ready?”
    Amy nodded, and Cal fell into step beside her as they headed for the exit.
    â€œIs she still in Tennessee?” Amy asked.
    â€œYes. Always has been, always will be.”
    â€œBy choice or circumstance?”
    â€œChoice. She’s perfectly content with her cabin in the mountains and her work at the local craft co-op.”
    When they reached the door, Cal pushed it open, one hand in the small of her back as he guided her out. It was an impersonal gesture, born of breeding and good manners, but it nevertheless sent a tingle up her spine. Get a grip, Amy admonished herself. It’s okay to enjoy this impromptu date, but remember—there’s no future here. You are two very different people.
    â€œWhere are you parked?” Cal asked as he surveyed the small lot.
    Amy pointed toward a late-model BMW. “Over there.”
    Cal noted the car, but made no comment. Instead, he turned to her, his gaze moving swiftly over her attire, taking in the royal blue jacket with black buttons, wide gold choker, black slacks and heels. “Where would you like to go? You’re dressed for the Ritz, but I don’t think they’d even let me in the back door,” he said with an engaging grin.
    She smiled and shrugged. “Anywhere is fine. Fast food, if you like.”
    â€œOh, I think we can do a little better than that. Have you ever eaten at Rick’s?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt’s a nice