My Fair Gentleman Read Free Page B

the plump cleavage six inches from his nose. “Want me to warm ‘em up for ya, Tammy?”
    She bopped him on the head with her plastic tray, ignoring his indignant yelp. “Behave yourself, Joe Tucker, or I’ll tell Allie you dropped your pants for the whole bar.” Splaying hot-pink fingernails on one hip, she turned toward Catherine. “You watch yourself, hon. Allie’s the only one who can control herdad. Always clownin’ around, he is. Either that, or breakin’ hearts. He’s a real smooth talker.”
    An unintelligible grunt sounded from behind her back.
    “See what I mean?” Tammy’s blue eyes twinkled as she turned. “That’ll be three bucks for your beer, Joe.” She winked to take the sting out of her demand.
    Frowning, he fumbled in his back pocket. “What about the lady?”
    “Are you kiddin’? Any woman who can shut Gary up and kick Earl’s butt in the same night deserves a reward. Her beer’s on me.”
    Meeting Tammy’s admiring gaze, Catherine took back her snide thought about silicone implants.
    Joe flipped open his worn wallet and extracted a five-dollar bill. Catherine couldn’t help seeing it was the last of his cash. She glanced toward the bar where Carl sat brooding over his American Express receipt. Before tonight, she’d never seen her fiancé forced to do anything he hadn’t planned.
    “Wait,” she said, halting Tammy’s outstretched hand. “Put them both on Mr. Wilson’s tab, please. And be sure to give yourself a big tip.”
    Tammy glanced over her shoulder at Carl and looked back grinning. “Anything you say, hon. The customer’s always right.” Tucking the tray under her. arm, she swished off toward the bar.
    Joe twisted the cap off one beer, wiped the glass lip with his sleeve and offered it to Catherine. No quaint mug in sight. Repressing a shudder, she accepted the bottle and told herself his jersey was cleaner than it looked.
    He opened the second bottle for himself and cocked his head. “Okay, Catherine, I’m all ears. What’s so all-fired important you wanted to talk to me about?”
    At last. “My future counseling practice.”
    “Your future…Are you a shrink?” He spat the word out as if it were castor oil.
    “I’m a psychologist,” she corrected. “Up until now I’ve acted as research assistant to my father. I’m sure you’ve seen him interviewed on TV—Dr. Lawrence Hamilton? He heads up the Department of Counseling and Educational Psychology at Richmond College?”
    Joe looked remarkably unimpressed.
    “He wrote The Five-Minute Intelligence Test. All the major talk shows booked him as a guest,” she added helpfully.
    Shrugging, Joe spread his hands. “Sorry. Never heard of him.”
    Catherine felt a shocking surge of satisfaction. “Where have you been the past year?”
    Eyeing her closely through slitted lids, he tilted his head back and took a deep swallow of beer. When he rested the bottle on his muscular thigh, over a third of its contents had vanished. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”
    She drew her brows together. “Should I?”
    He chuckled ruefully. “Guess not. On paper I played for the Astros, but my knees were on ice half the time.”
    “You’re a hockey player?” This was terrible.
    “I said Astros, not Aeros. As in the baseball team,” he explained, his male disgust palpable.
    Baseball, hockey—they both meant road trips, lots of publicity…“Wait a minute. Did you say played? ”
    “Yeah.” His bleak tone matched his eyes. “Right now I’m kinda at loose ends.”
    She broke into a joyful smile, then smothered it at his startled look. “I’m changing jobs, too. That is, I’d like to establish my own family counseling practice. But my fiancé—the man buying the drinks tonightwants a more…traditional relationship.”
    Joe knuckled his eye sockets, blew out a breath and held her gaze. “Catherine…work with me here. What the hell do I have to do with any of this?”
    Oh, God. She took a tiny sip of