pounds. If a guy like that fell on one of his own teammates, he could put a player out for the entire season.”
Sloan laughed and her eyes met his again. It was so good to be with him, laugh with him, have him take the burdens of her life off her shoulders. Good to be held by him, even if she held herself in careful restraint. The heat of him aroused so much in her, and she wondered fleetingly if it was wrong to want a man so badly whom she didn’t love. It didn’t matter, because she couldn’t have him, not until...until he married her. She just couldn’t take risks. She had always been confident in her sexuality before, but she had loved Terry, and he had loved her. What if...what if she just didn’t have the experience or expertise to hold a man like Wesley? She shivered suddenly. She would be confident of Wesley’s love when she had his ring around her finger...when her ragged existence had been eased.
And somehow, somehow, she thought guiltily, she would repay him...
He took her to dinner again the next night, telling her in his light, easy fashion that he was staging a whirlwind courtship. He had not taken her into his arms again with the same passion he had hungrily displayed in the park; he was restraining himself. He kissed her good-night with gentle, sensual persuasion, leaving her senses reeling, her body aching for the demand she had known so briefly.
Apparently, she thought ruefully as she tossed in bed after that night, her body was unaware that a winner-take-all game was being played. Thank heaven Wesley was treading lightly. She feared an edge of pressure could bring capitulation from traitorous flesh.
Summer was a big time for tourists in Gettysburg, and on Wednesday morning Sloan noticed the traffic becoming heavy, the streets thronging with visitors. Fairly certain that Wesley would appear after her last class and ask her out for the evening, she decided to take things into her own hands. With that resolution for initiative, she planned a barbecue at her home. Wesley sounded pleasantly agreeable when she called him at the business number he had given her—they could avoid any crowds.
Jim popped his head into her half-open office doorway just as she was finishing her call. “A barbecue, eh? Am I invited?” he teased.
“Do you know,” Sloan mused, wondering if it would now be a good idea to chance being alone with Wes once the little Talletts were tucked into bed, “you just gave me an idea. Yes, you are invited. Most definitely.”
“Sloan,” Jim demurred, sliding into her extra chair and unabashedly casting his legs—covered by woolen leg warmers—over the corner of her desk, “I was teasing. The student grapevine tells me—since you haven’t bothered to”—he interrupted himself with the woeful aggrievance—“that Mrs. Tallett is running hot and heavy with Wesley Adams. Granted, I told you I was living to see this day; but seriously, shouldn’t you be alone?”
“No,” Sloan said firmly. “And I’m not running ‘hot and heavy’ with anyone.” Her lips quirked into a dry smile. “I’m assuming that was a student expression?”
Jim shrugged. “Sometimes the students have apt expressions. I know you were out with him Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. I think that qualifies for hot and heavy. Especially with you.”
“Damn,” Sloan murmured, “that’s some grapevine. How did you know about Sunday?”
“Jeannie Holiday—my Monday Beginning Jazz class,” Jim told her with a smile. “She saw you at the park.”
Sloan flushed a little and made a show of straightening her desk, wondering exactly how much Jeannie Holiday had seen. “And Fine Arts majors are notoriously creative,” she said lightly. “Are you going to come?”
Jim hunched his shoulders. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he said with a broad grin. “Sloan Tallett finally gets her rich man.”
“What?” Sloan’s eyes flew to his guiltily.
“The man’s as rich as Onassis,” Jim said. “Surely you knew that.”
“I knew he was...comfortable,” Sloan said, finding it hard to hide her conscience before Jim. She returned her attention to her desk until she could compose her features into a mask of cheerfulness. “I’m going to have Cassie and George over too...and my nephews, of course. Since you’re coming, Jim”—she gave him a conniving smile—“do you think you could just assign my last class to their rehearsals? I’d like to hop out a little early and plan.”
“Sure,” Jim said agreeably. “Leave when you’re ready. I’m so anxious to see this, I’ll even bring the wine.”
Sloan graced him with a tongue-in-cheek