Silver Spoon Read Free Page A

tossed out the first pitch.
    "That's confidential." He stuffed a fry in his mouth.
    She blinked at him. The declaration both surprised and unsettled her. Most men, if nothing else, bragged about their careers, even made up ones. "As in, you could tell me but then you'd have to kill me?"
    He nodded. "Something like that."
    Oh, good grief. Perhaps she should consider calling a taxi instead of riding back alone with him to the bookstore parking lot. "So, what can you tell me about yourself?"
    Spoon met her gaze as he slurped on his straw. "Let's see. I'm employed. A Leo. In good health and like to read."
    Not satisfied with the short list, she prodded him for more. "Any exes, kids, pets?"
    "None of the above. You?"
    "Nope. I lost my old cat last year to cancer and haven't been brave enough to consider another pet, yet."
    His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry. My friends all have animals and they seem quite happy with them."
    She nodded then took another bite of her cheeseburger. While chewing, she studied the man before her. Broad shoulders tapered to a narrower waist, well defined muscles showed beneath the slightly snug long-sleeved T-shirt. A pair of worn jeans molded to his lower half, outlining a terrific rear as she'd noted earlier when walking to and from the car. Sharp brown eyes took in their surroundings with quick observation skills. She truly doubted he missed a single thing, despite the second he took to scan the room. A mouse didn't stand a chance to go unnoticed with Spoon around.
    Spoon. An odd nickname. One he'd promised to explain if she ate with him.
    "Okay. Fess up. How did you get the nickname Spoon?"
    He shrugged while hungrily chewing a large bite of hamburger. "My comrades thought I was born wealthy. Thus, with a silver spoon in my mouth."
    "Was that the case?" If he was worth a fortune, she couldn't tell it by looking at him.
    "My parents' income has nothing to do with my income." The terse words warned her to quickly change the topic.
    Chomping a French fry, she shifted gears. "Here I thought Spoon related to something erotic. Like it was your favorite sexual position or your tongue had spoon-like abilities." She peeked coyly up at him.
    He snorted. "Is your mind always in the gutter?"
    "Well, I do write romance novels after all."
    "Speaking of, I bet your parents are proud of you getting published."
    She automatically bristled and shook her head. "My mother passed when I was thirteen."
    He lowered his chin. "I'm sorry. That's a tough age to be without a mother."
    "Thanks." She chose to move ahead rather than focus on the depressing past. "My father… doesn't understand about my writing. He believes romance novels are unclean, and doesn't think anyone of worth would write such a thing." All too familiar anger reared up as she replayed the day she'd excitedly told him her first book had been contracted. Her enthusiasm had dried up like a water puddle in the Sahara desert under his biting scrutiny and judgment.
    Spoon reached out to cover her hand with his, giving a small squeeze. "Sounds like a bigot to me and he's the unworthy one."
    Her lips formed a sad smile. "I agree with you, which is why I rarely have contact with him anymore. I got tired of not meeting his standards and hearing about it."
    His face contorted in a grimace, as if he felt her same pain.
    Intrigued, she poked cautiously into his life. "You have similar difficulties with your father?"
    At first, she didn't think he would answer. His shoulders lifted even as his fingers tightened around a fisted napkin. Long beats of silence passed with only the murmurs of nearby tables breaking through.
    "You could say that." He released a long sigh. "It sounds like our fathers were made out of the same mold. Never satisfied with their children no matter how hard they tried." His brown eyes and face expressed tight restraint, frustration, and anger.
    "I'm sorry," she whispered, returning the sympathetic gesture with her smaller hand over his. Her first