spared the embarrassment of contrivances designed to force them into each other's company.
She'd never confided to any of the matchmakers that the coach had called her on two separate occasions asking for a date. Both times she'd made such lame excuses that he'd apparently gotten discouraged and given up.
Now she felt as visible as a lightning bug in a Mason jar as Law lowered himself close beside her on the bleacher. They had the attention of everybody seated within ten rows of them.
"Heard anything about the telephone book commission?" Law asked.
"Not yet. I still have my fingers crossed." She held up her hand, the middle finger overlapping the index one. He caught it by the wrist and tipped up his sunglasses to examine it.
"How's the burn?"
"The skin never even blistered. The butter worked, I guess."
"Good." He held her hand for another second or two before letting it go. "You look like the team mascot," he commented as he tossed back a fistful of popcorn. "You should be down on the held leading cheers."
She was wearing black shorts and a blue and black striped jersey with "David's Mom"
embroidered over her left breast. "All the mothers dress in the team jersey."
"None of them look like you though."
She couldn't see his eyes through his glasses but she knew they were moving over her.
It made her uncomfortably warm. She turned her head toward the field. "There's David."
"What number is – oh, there he is."
David and his teammates were jogging toward the sidelines after undergoing a brisk pre-game warm-up on the field. When he spotted them sitting together in the stands, Marnie saw lights go on behind his blue eyes, even from that distance. His smile deepened and he waved enthusiastically. Law waved back and gave him the thumbs-up sign.
"His team is going to win," he remarked.
"How do you know?"
"The kid's a winner. It's written all over him."
By the end of the first half Marnie was afraid Law's prediction would prove wrong. The Tornadoes were behind one to nothing. It had been a frustrating half for both teams, each coming close to scoring many times, the attempts being thwarted by talented goalies. The mood in the stands had reached a hysterical pitch. Emotions were running high.
So when their bare thighs happened to brush against each other, Marnie jerked hers away from Law's. Each of the hairs on his leg seemed to conduct an electric current.
"Excuse me," she said breathlessly.
"Nothing to excuse." Subconsciously she was running her hand up and down her thigh where his had touched. Noting that, he added, "Relax. I don't have anything you can catch by casual contact."
She stopped rubbing her leg and frowned at him, perturbed. "Do you enjoy that?"
"What? Casual contact?"
"Placing women in awkward positions."
"Actually awkward positions have never been a big turn-on for me. I like to keep sex as uncomplicated as possible and concentrate on the basics."
Wanting to wipe away his twitching smile, she reverted to the serious subject that had brought them together. "What did it say? The letter."
The sun had sunk behind the other side of the stadium, causing a giant shadow to fall over the bleachers where they were sitting. Law had removed his sunglasses. She watched his amused eyes turn somber.
"More of the same."
"More threatening?" she asked, concerned for David's safety.
"Not exactly. I was reminded of the field day the media would have if David's story were leaked. Not that I needed to be reminded," he said beneath his breath.
"That would be no picnic for David either."
"I know that," he said defensively. "I'm not the selfish bastard you obviously take me for. Right now I have to think logically and pragmatically not emotionally. The only way we're going to catch this guy is to start reasoning like him. Okay?"
She nodded. He seemed momentarily mollified. "I make a big target to throw mud at.
Whoever is writing the letters is intelligent enough to realize that and use it as leverage.
He's no