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“We never discussed kissing per se.” She kept her voice as zen as possible. “It was sort of implied in the touching scenario. Besides, I thought we were teammates.”
“We are.” He shrugged a shoulder. “As much as is possible.”
She slapped her palm on her thigh. “What does that mean?”
“As much as any man and woman can be.”
“Gender shouldn’t matter.”
His knuckles tightened on the wheel. “In our case it does.”
Only because he kept sending electrical charges across the truck cab. He could stop that anytime.
They drove another ten blocks without a word. Mitch moved his right hand to the gearshift even though he drove an automatic. “Why’d you ask about being teammates?”
“Teammates don’t argue.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “They discuss alternatives. Calmly. They treat each other politely and ask if the other person has finished lunch.”
“You didn’t object.”
“I wanted to leave the park, too, but that’s not the point.” She waited. He remained mum. “Do you get my point?”
He glanced across the front seat. “You don’t like anyone to point out that you’re arguing.”
What? She’d been stating a fact, not arguing. “I’d punch you if we weren’t playing on the same team.”
“That shouldn’t stop you.”
* * *
Mitch wanted to punch his fist through the windshield. He didn’t like DiMartino, but he’d only proved he could be just as much of a jerk. Cath knew it too. Why else would she be closing him off, feigning interest in the passing houses and stoplights?
He massaged the gearshift. “I was out of line back there.”
“When you asked about my love life?”
“It doesn’t concern me.” He’d prefer to know nothing about her past. Or he should, anyway.
“Truer words were never spoken,” she said in her normal husky alto. “What set you off anyway? You were rushing me like you had a hot date waiting for you with open arms.”
Fat chance. “Never.”
“You’ve never been on a hot date?”
He lowered his window and rubbed a hand over his head. How had they gotten onto this topic? “I thought we weren’t talking about our love lives.”
She turned to face him, propping her chin in hand.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m trying to figure out what a hot date with you would be. A Ping-Pong tournament? Or a shuffleboard meetup, maybe?”
He shook his head. “You think you’re clever.”
“Just giving as good as I got.” She smiled. “We’re getting close to the restaurant. That was Harmony Street we just crossed. What happens if Sarah Armstrong isn’t working today?”
“We move to plan B.” Mitch stopped for a traffic signal under a tree already festooned with several years’ worth of Carnival parade beads.
“What’s plan B?”
