Tears welled in her green eyes and something twisted so deep in his gut it hurt. To think he was the cause of her pain. Since the carnival, the more time he spent around Madeline, the more a faint memory gnawed at him. One that included a tall, skinny, but cute girl with a mop of fire-engine-red curls that bounced about as she followed whichever teammate she was interviewing. His thumb brushed over her lip. “Did we ever talk?” She nodded, but didn’t speak. Her lips were smooth, satiny. Was he that insensitive in high school? He could kick himself. Why didn’t he ever notice her? He traced her lips, her cheek, her ear, pushing back a lock of the smoothest hair he had ever touched. He reached for her hair again, compelled to stroke its silkiness. “What did we talk about?” She swallowed and cleared her throat, then swiped impatiently at her eyes. “Sports, mostly. I interviewed you a couple of times after a game.”
