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His brows rose and a smile tugged at his lips. “You know what kind of helmet I wear?”
“Google knows,” I said, with the intent to put him in his place, but that smile was irrepressible. Despite my strange finicky emotions, I felt a smile tugging at my lips too. “And good thing it’s a good helmet, because we don’t need your brain getting any more scrambled than it already is. ”
He grinned. “There’s a zombie-and-omelet joke in there somewhere. ”
I couldn’t help grinning reluctantly back, though I tried to keep my eyes narrowed. “You’re a zombie joke. ”
“Your brains are hard-boiled. ”
“I think I resent that. But I’m going to have to think about it harder. ” I paused. “I guess it’s better than being deviled. ”
“You’re the devil, here. ”
“Ha! How did you end up with your helmet, anyway?”
He shrugged. “Rachael insisted I swap brands two years ago. ”
“Rachael?” I was unable to keep some jealousy from crawling into my voice.
Abe just grinned, his eyes dancing. “Just admit it. ”
I jutted out my chin. “Admit what?”
He held my gaze, and a flush rose in my cheeks. Fine.
He took pity on me. “Ryan’s girlfriend. She’s a force of nature. ”
“Ryan Carter’s girlfriend?” I kept forgetting he hung out with all these famous people on a regular basis.
I kept forgetting he was famous.
“That’s the one. Hey, you want to go grab dinner?”
I tilted my head at both the request and the change of subject. “You’re getting to make a habit of this food thing. ”
A flash of uncertainty crossed his face. “You mind?”
I didn’t. I’d never forgotten how much I enjoyed Abe’s company, but it hadn’t been in the forefront of my mind for ages. But now that it was again. . . Well, I liked him. “No, let’s. You don’t have other plans?”
For a moment I thought I glimpsed loneliness, but it vanished with a smile. “Most of the guys get dinner with their family post-games. A couple of us usually hang out. But I’d rather get dinner with you. ”
My eyes flew up to him. His didn’t move. My breath caught, and it took a force of will to smile like I was unaffected. “Then let’s get dinner. ”
We went to a Mediterranean place in Hell’s Kitchen. I ordered a platter complete with tabbouleh and baba ghanoush and olive tapenade. Abe raised his brows at that. “Since when do you like olives? You used to pick them off everything. ”
“Mm, I suppose since that summer I spent working at a vineyard in Sonoma. ”
He put down his fork. “You’re kidding me. ”
I laughed, pleased to have surprised him. “Nope. One of my best friends from college had an uncle who took us on for two months. It was great. My summer of sun, wine, cheese, and Antonio—” I placed my hand to my brow, “—the beautiful Italian boy who biked past every day. ”
“You’re making this up. ”
“Nope. Though admittedly, we never got up the courage to talk to Antonio. ”
“So how do you know his name was Antonio?”
I shrugged and picked up my utensils. “We don’t. Or that he was Italian, actually. So I suppose we made those parts up. Surely a sign of my storytelling talent early on. ”
He grinned and sliced into his steak. “All right, so no Antonio. Best boyfriend?”
“Oh, are we talking about boys now?” I fluttered my lashes. “How exciting. ”
“Or perhaps no one could live up to the man of your dreams?”
I gave him an arched look. “The tall, dark, brooding, bespectacled and scruffy man, you mean?”
He shot me a look right back. “Please. You like the good-natured, all-American, sporty type. ”
I shook my head. “No one worth speaking of. There was Patrick before I moved out here, I guess. ”
Fine, I said that to see if I got a reaction, and I did. He frowned just the slightest bit. “Who’s Patrick?”
“Another one of the SAT tutors where I was working. Very tall. Cute grin. Played the guitar. ”
Abe snorted. “A musician. ”
I propped my elbow on the table and my chin on my hand. “Musicians are sexy. Didn’t you know?”
“Football players are sexy. Tough. We’re gladiators. ”
“Except without all the blood. And death. And lions. And with really big padding. ” I gestured out past my shoulders. “And shiny pants. ”
He leaned forward. “Admit it. You like the pants. ”
I blushed slightly, because I did like the pants. “And what about you? Any memorable relationships?”
He knocked his chair back and grinned at me. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist asking. ”
I tossed my napkin at him. “Merely out of politeness!”
He laughed. “Dozens. ”
“None you bothered bringing home to meet your mother,” I countered.
“I introduced her to two when she was out here!”
“Only one was on purpose, though,” I reminded him. “Kelly was an accident. ” I exaggerated a wince. “That must have been embarrassing, you and your mom walking into your apartment to find it filled with. . . Kelly and whipping cream. ”
His wince was real. “That made the rounds of the entire town?”
“Oh, the entire Bay, I’m afraid. And parts of Oakland. ”
He shook his head. “You have a cruel streak, Miss Rosenfeld. ”
I took a sip of my drink. “What nonsense. I am merely the deliverer of truth. ”
He regarded me with a smile. “You probably think you know everything about me. ”
“Oh, but I do, Abraham Krasner. ”
He shook his head slowly. “You only know what my mom knows. ”
I scoffed. “And what else is there?”
He reached across the table and lifted my hand in his. Both of our palms faced upward. His dwarfed mine, and I stilled, flutters cascading through me in a way I’d never quite forgotten. His dark eyes held mine and his thumb slowly circled the center of my palm. His callused skin was rough against my sensitive lifelines.
My breath caught. My blood pulsed tangibly in my wrist. “What are you doing?”
“There are some things about me even you don’t know about, Tamar Rosenfeld. ”
How was it possible that he was only holding my hand and I was getting turned on? I slowly withdrew my hand and pressed it against my thigh. My eyes were wide and I tried desperately to think of something to say. “Um. . . Fine. Prove me wrong. Tell me a secret. ”
I would’ve had to have been the least observant reporter ever if I didn’t notice how his eyes dipped to my lips, and then even further. And I’d have to be a liar if I said it didn’t send a curl of satisfaction twining through me.
But those dark, downward-tilting eyes were back on mine in a heartbeat. “And what do I get out of it?”
“What do you want?”
“One of your secrets, of course. ”
I leaned forward. “Ah, but I have no secrets. ”
“Everyone has secrets. ”
I searched his eyes, but he seemed deadly serious. I straightened in surprise. “All right. We’ll trade. ”