“No.” Jay narrowed his eyes. He had no intention of implying she’d spent the night with him.
Steve cleared his throat. “I’ve seen Lonny a few times recently. She’s—I don’t know—nervy. And she’s drinking.” He fingered his narrow goatee beard.
Jay shrugged. “When isn’t she nervy?”
“I’m trying to be serious. It’s not like Lonny to play hot and cold, but sometimes she looks through me like she can’t see me.”
Jay raised his eyebrows. “You know what she’s like. She takes little offenses and magnifies them.”
“Yes, I—”
The paint room door squeaked, and Vix emerged, her upswept hair falling around her face in soft curls. She aimed her gaze at Jay. “Cleaning up that place is going to take hours, but I can see I have the primary colors and don’t need to buy anything but a few good brushes. Are you in charge of the key to this place?” She had a streak of blue paint on her yellow shirt.
“I’ll get one cut for you tomorrow.”
“Will you be here?”
He nodded. “We’ll be starting at eight.”
Trent threw the ball at Steve, who took it to the net. Vix lingered. “I don’t have any painting to do yet, but I would really like to clean up the room. Would it be okay while you’re working tomorrow?”
“Sure thing.”
Sticky-beak Sherry insinuated herself between them. “Do you play volleyball, Vix?”
“No, I haven’t ever played.”
“You would be a natural.” Jay glanced at her lithe body. “It’s a game of tactics, and women seem to excel at that.”
Vix dipped her head. “Tactics is a game I’ve yet to learn.”
“One of them is to wear as little as possible,” Sherry said, watching Steve and Trent remove their shirts. Since they knew she was watching, they smacked each other around. “Then the guys tip the ball low so that you have to bend over.”
“Do you mean you do it on purpose?” Luke called from the other side of the room. He was shirtless and ready to play.
Sherry put her fists on her hips. “You’re married. You shouldn’t be noticing.”
Vix looked at her own jeans and then at the brief outfits worn by Sherry and Kellen’s two dates, all of which were tiny. While the guys had been setting up the net, the other three women had shucked off as many clothes as they could, leaving them in tight spandex undies and appetizer-type nipple coverings. “I won’t be any use. I’m overdressed.”
Everyone laughed.
“So, will you play?” Sherry asked, doggedly.
Jay didn’t know why his sister-in-law was being pushy. She never bothered with Ilona, but most women didn’t, which was a shame. That left Ilona with guys mainly, and a bit of female companionship would have done her a world of good.
“I’ll watch for a while.”
Jay found a gold throne in the props’ room for Vix, and she sat backed against a fireplace flat while Trent formed groups inside the marks of Steve’s hopeful boundaries, two guys and one girl a side, which left one of Kellen’s girls wandering around and Jay sitting on the arm of the throne beside Vix. “In case you haven’t guessed, we don’t take this game too seriously.”
“It looks seriously strenuous.” She watched the leaps and catches with a half smile.
“They’ll calm down as soon as they get into the game.”
Without needing to be told, Kellen’s date played using her own rules, distracting the guys on the other team with feminine ploys like adjusting bra straps or the flesh inside her bra. The guys on each team tried to distract the girls with ridiculous tricks, feints, and unlikely smashes. Jay saw the game as a mating ritual, as old as time, and, being the scorer, he gave points on the laughs rather than the balls hit.
“So, who won that?” Vix asked when Kell’s girl retired, giggling.
“Trent’s team.”
Sherry folded her arms. “No way. You have to take off points for hitting other people with the ball.”
“When did that rule happen?” Jay lifted his eyebrows.
“Today. The guys were showing off and that has to be penalized.”
“I agree,” Vix said, deadpan. “The game needs to be fair. The only people hit by the ball were female, and the only people hitting people with the ball were male, so in all, I think the women won.” She tilted her chin.
“Let’s have a challenge game of men against women, then.” Jay rose to his feet and stripped off his shirt. He grinned at her. “Which means you have to play to make four a side. Who wants to sit out?”
Trent sat out, and he prowled among the stacked flats, choosing those he could knock apart and reuse while Jay got to play against Vix. His height gave him an edge and his strength proved most of his smashes winners, but he played harder that day than he ever had, whether to draw Vix’s eyes or to work off tension, he couldn’t say.
Without a scorer, no one won. No one cared. Kell’s girls looked sweaty, and one draped her arm over his shoulders. The other, not to be outdone, snuggled up to his other side. Jay shook his head and caught Luke’s eye. Luke shrugged.
“It must be lunch time.” Sherry rattled around in her big shopping bag. “All that admiring of muscles has given me a huge appetite.”
“Yeah, but for what?” Luke let a leering smile crease his face.
“Lunch. I’ve got three kids, in case you haven’t noticed.” She stood, a brown paper bag in her hands, clearly waiting.
Steve and Trent set up a couple of sawhorses near the opened big door and Kell topped them with a black masking flat. Sherry wandered over and unpacked the bag, placing thick sandwiches on the roll of kitchen paper she’d brought. The groupies had apparently been organized, too, and brought out plastic glasses and a supermarket cake. Kell supplied soda and lemonade.
Vix watched from a distance, looking like she thought she should leave.
“Are you going to stay for lunch?” Jay walked over to her and put his hands on her throne, prepared to move the monstrosity to the table for her to use if she chose.
She turned her head away. “I want to cover up that body of yours and hide it from view,” she muttered.
“Whose view?”
“Mine.”
He laughed. She wanted him. Perhaps she didn’t know she did. All those orders she had given him last night might have put off another man, but not him. He didn’t want to scare her. Ever. He could guess she’d been intimidated enough by her husband, who apparently didn’t know how to make love to a young virgin, which she implied she had been when she married him. Apparently, Timmy-boy, a good ten years older than her, hadn’t valued her as the prized possession she ought to have been.
“You should have more consideration,” she said in a low voice. “You teased me all last night and now you want to do the same today.”
“C’mere,” he said gruffly.
She folded her arms.
He took a step into her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “What color are my eyes?”
“Denim.”
“You’ll have to learn to lift your gaze.”
She stared straight at him. A pulse throbbed in her throat.
“Lunch it is, while I’m half-dressed