"I'll just look it up on the Web."
"Fine. You do that. I don't want to talk about it." His big hand settled on the nape of her neck and squeezed. "It can't be that bad."
"Yes, it can. T.J. might end up divorced because of this. Shelley and David are both mad at me because I'm making them look bad."
"I thought they were mad about the cat and the car."
"They are. They're using the cat and the car as a springboard to get even angrier about the list."
"They sound like pains in the ass to me."
"But they're family, and I love them." She hunched her shoulders. "I'll go get your money."
"What money?"
"For the cuss words."
"You're gonna pay me?"
"It's the only honorable thing to do. But now that you know the new rule about making me swear, this is the only time I'll pay you when it's your fault. Seventy-five cents, right? Two earlier, then one when you saw the reporters."
"Sounds about right."
She went inside and dug out seventy-five cents. She was out of quarters; she had to pay him off in dimes and nickels. He was still sitting on the step when she returned, but he stood up to drop the change in his pocket. "Are you going to invite me in, maybe cook dinner for me?" She snorted. "Get real."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Okay, then, do you want to go grab a bite to eat?"
She thought about it. There were definite pros and cons to accepting. The obvious benefit was not having to eat alone, if she had felt like going to the trouble of preparing something, which she didn't. The biggest con was spending more time with him. Spending time with Sam could be dangerous. The only thing that had saved her earlier was that they hadn't been in a private place. If he got her alone in his truck, there's no telling what would happen. On the other hand, she would get to ride in the truck… "I'm not asking you to solve the meaning of life," he said irritably. "Do you want to grab a burger or not?"
"If I go, you can't touch me," she warned.
He held up both hands. "I swear. I've already said you couldn't pay me to go anywhere near that sperm-eating egg of yours. So when are you going on the pill?"
"Who said I was?"
"I'm saying you'd better."
"You stay away from me and you won't have to worry about it." No way would she tell him she'd already planned to go on the pill. She had forgotten to call the clinic today, but that would be her first call in the morning. He grinned. "You talk a good game, babe, but it's the bottom of the ninth and I'm ahead ten to nothing. The only thing left for you to do is lie down."
If any other man had said that to her, she'd have handed him his ego in shreds. The best she could do now was delay him. "Am I still at bat?"
"Yeah, but it's two down and a three-oh count."
"I can still hit a home run."
"Not likely."
She growled at his disparagement of her resistance. "We'll see about that."
"Oh, hell. You're making this a contest, aren't you?"
"You're the one who started it. Bottom of the ninth and you're ahead ten to nothing, my ass."
"That's another quarter."
" Ass' isn't a cuss word."
"Says who – " He stopped himself and heaved a big sigh. "Never mind. You sidetracked me from the subject. Do you want to go get something to eat or not?"
"I'd rather have Chinese than a burger."
Another sigh. "Fine. We'll eat Chinese."
"I like that place on Twelve Mile Road."
"All right," he yelled.
She gave him a brilliant smile. "I'll go change."
"So will I. Five minutes."
Jaine hurried into the house, well aware that he was hurrying as well. He didn't think she could change in five minutes, did he? She'd show him.
She stripped to the skin as she raced to the bedroom. BooBoo trailed after her, meowing plaintively. It was long past his dinnertime. She pulled on a pair of dry panties, hooked herself into a dry bra, pulled a red short-sleeved knit top over her head, jerked on a pair of white jeans, and stepped into sandals. She ran back into the kitchen and opened a can of food for BooBoo, dumped it into his plate, grabbed her purse, and was out the door just as Sam jumped off his kitchen porch and headed to his garage. "You're late," he said.
"I am not. Besides, you only had to change clothes. I changed clothes and fed the cat."
He had a modern garage door. He pressed the button on the control in his hand, and it slid up like oiled silk. She sighed, assailed by a bad case of garage-door envy. Then, in the light that came on automatically when the door opened, she saw the gleaming red monster. Chrome twin pipes. Chrome roll bar. Tires so big she would have had to vault into the seat if he hadn't also had chrome bars to aid those not blessed with his length of leg. "Oh," she breathed, and clasped her hands. "This is just what I wanted until I saw the Viper."
"Bench seats," he said, and lifted a wicked eyebrow at her. "If you're really good, after you get on the pill and your eggs are under control, I'll let you seduce me in the truck." She managed not to react. Thank God he didn't realize how tenuous her self-control really was, though it was the thought of seducing him rather than the location that revved her up again.
"Nothing to say?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Oh, damn," he said as he put both hands around her waist and effortlessly lifted her into the cab. "Now I'm worried."
Marci's plan hadn't worked. T.J. faced the inevitable after the third reporter called. God, why didn't this thing just go away? What was so fascinating about a funny list? Not that Galan would think it was at all funny, she thought, depressed. He didn't seem to think anything was funny anymore, unless it was something that happened at work. He had been so much fun when they were dating, full of laughter and jokes. Where had that cheerful boy gone? They didn't even see each other much anymore. She worked eight to five, he worked three to eleven. By the time he got home, she was asleep. He didn't get up until after she had left for work. The most telling thing, she thought, was that he didn't have to work the three to eleven shift. He had chosen it. If his intention had been to get away from her, she thought, he had accomplished his aim.