Walt sipped his drink . . . didn’t meet her eyes.

“They’re not?” She was certain her jaw hit the table.

“They wanted the practice to go to me . . . eventually.”

She didn’t see that coming. “But you’re a doctor. You volunteer for humanitarian relief. How can any parent be anything but overjoyed with that?”

“C’mon, Dakota, I’m sure some of your characters come from less-than-perfect parents.”

“That’s fiction.” Fiction based loosely on facts that she’d picked up from people she’d met, research on personality traits.

“My story isn’t unique. My dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps, literally. I became a doctor but not the kind of doctor he wanted me to be. My mom has only ever been his wife. Supported his desires.”

Dakota couldn’t help but laugh straight out with that. “Really? She didn’t exist before him?”

“She lives to be in his life.”

Dakota rolled her eyes as she stood and grabbed her ball. She let the ball roll, thought about what Walt was saying.

“Did she go to college?”

“Yes.”

“What did she study?”

When Walt didn’t say anything she knew he had no idea what his mom wanted before marrying Dr. Walter Eddy II.

Fascinated, she didn’t even mind that her second ball rolled down the gutter.

“I’m sure your mother has other things on her mind than being your dad’s wife.”

Walt shook his head. “She called two days ago to remind me of my dad’s birthday celebration and to make sure I was coming. She only calls for things like that. Dad doesn’t really call at all.”

“So in short . . . you became a doctor because you love it and managed to piss off your family because you didn’t follow in the family business. Let me guess . . . your parents don’t live close by.”

He frowned. “Colorado.”

Walt was still frowning when he returned from knocking out another seven pins.

There was obvious tension from the conversation, something she really didn’t want and imagined Walt didn’t either. “My parents don’t approve of me either. You’re not alone in that.”

It was Walt’s turn to let his jaw drop. “You’re a successful author. New York Times bestseller . . . millions of readers.”

She laughed. “You read my bio.”

He raised his hand. “Guilty.”

“All that and I even make amazing money. Still, my parents are less than thrilled.” She turned on her best Southern accent and lowered her voice to a whisper. “ ‘She writes those porn books.’ ”

“You’re kidding.”

Dakota shook her head, left a smile on her face but felt her parents’ disapproval even at a distance. She might laugh about it openly, but deep down . . .

Walt reached over and took her hand in his. The color of his eyes took on a pale shade of golden brown. Warmth ran up her arm, and some of the noise from balls hitting pins and the shouts of excitement disappeared.

Walt looked at her. “What I read wasn’t pornography. More detailed than anything I’ve read before, but nothing so trite. Your characters were really fucked up, serious issues, and in the end, I was hoping they’d work it out. Of course I have to wait six months until the next book comes out to find out if they do.”

A warm laugh shook her. “It’s a romance novel, Doc. Everything will work out . . . eventually.” They dug into the pizza and had yet to finish one game. They both sucked at bowling. Well, Walt did a much better job, and if Dakota had to guess, his last couple of gutter balls were totally thrown on purpose.

They were both enjoying a second drink and Dakota had to admit that bowling was a great first date. Well, second if she counted drinks in Miami with friends.

“How often do you get home?”

“To my parents?” she asked, snaking a long string of cheese with her tongue.

Walt’s eyes caught the movement and he paused.

The attraction, the one that made her say yes to a date, shivered up her spine. She felt her skin tingle, and she knew it wasn’t from the forced air in the bowling alley. She had to concentrate on chewing.

“South Carolina, right?”

“Yeah.” She chewed quickly. “As little as possible.”

“That bad?”

“You have no idea. The South is vicious. And the women. For the love . . . the women gossip about you from two feet away. California is so much easier.”

“No one gives a crap here.”

“Right!” She pointed her pizza at him before taking another bite. “Or they look right at you and can call you a bitch. So much easier to deal with.”

“I can’t believe your parents don’t approve.”

Dakota shrugged. “When my very first book was released, seemed everyone in my hometown managed to get a copy and read it all at the same time. My phone started ringing by the time chapter ten made its rounds. My mother was furious. Some of my close friends, those I’d known since grade school, started talking smack.” The memory of that time crawled over her spine. She’d been so ecstatic about her first novel, only to have those she thought would be the most supportive turning their backs.

“Did everyone shun you?”

She shook her head. “Not everyone. But enough negative vibes were flying around to make me leave. I was in an apartment just outside of Savannah at the time. I took my advance and moved here, worked hard to drill away my Southern accent. I go back when I have to. Holidays, that kind of thing. Some of my old friends have come around with the success of my work.”