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Authors: Shannon McKenna
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statement stand. But her words did something to him. Doors, opening up inside him, letting in light. Things lighting up from the inside, coming into focus.
He’d been dead serious. He really would kick ass for her.
And she was right. It wasn’t smart. Not smart at all. But there it was.
He scooped up more rice pudding, covered his embarrassment with chatter. Quick, before he turned red. “So what else can I be honest about? Any other secrets you want to know about the male mind?”
She rolled her eyes, snorting. “Never mind the male mind. Men are mostly dogs and pigs. Tell me about you.”
“Tell you what?”
“Start at the beginning,” she said. “And keep it simple.”
“Not much to tell,” he said. “I was born in Newark. Spent the first twelve years of my life there.”
“Parents?” she asked crisply.
“I was raised mostly by my Uncle Tony and my Zia Rosa here in Portland,” he said.
“And before, in Newark? Who raised you then?”
He flinched away from the question. “It’s your turn, isn’t it?”
“Who said we were taking turns?” She wound her fingers together and rested her chin on them. “You’ve evaded my question twice. Not very skillfully, but that means you’re starting down the slippery slope toward dishonesty. So give up the goods.”
He blew out the tension with a sharp sigh. “I don’t know who my father was. I was a bastard. My mother never told me. Her family was ashamed of me, so it was just the two of us. She raised me alone.”
She looked startled. “Ah. Um—”
“My mother was murdered by her fuckhead scum of a boyfriend when I was twelve. That was when I left Newark. I don’t have anything else to say about Newark. If you don’t mind.”
Her eyes dropped. “No,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
Another charged silence went on and on. He realized that she had absolutely no intention of breaking it. It was up to him.
What the fuck. He just went for it. “I didn’t mean to be evasive,” he said. “I was just really enjoying the conversation with you. And a piece of information like that is a real conversation stopper. It’s like throwing a bomb on the table. Big downer.”
Her lips looked tight. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
He sighed. Oh well. So much for this one. You win some, you lose some. Time to swallow the bitter pill of reality and get back to work.
He let the spoon drop and slid across the booth seat to get up.
She snagged his wrist. “I’m sorry I jerked you around,” she said, her voice husky. Long, chipped black nails dug into the skin of his wrist like kitten claws. “And I’m sorry about your mom,” she added, timidly.
He sat back down on the seat, silently jubilant. “What about my dad?” he asked. “Aren’t you sorry about him, too?”
Her mouth curved. “What for? Fuck him. He provided the best of himself and disappeared before he could do any more damage. We’ve already established that men are dogs and pigs, right?”
“Most men,” he said. He rolled his hand around beneath hers until he could clasp her hand from below. The contact was giving his palm a gazillion little mini-orgasms. “The day-shift guy will be here in about twenty-five minutes,” he said. “Want to go out, take a walk? I’ll tell you more about the awful, horrifying truth about men. Stuff you’ll never learn in Cosmo . You could write a book. If you’re interested.”
“Strangely enough,” she said. “I think I am.”
5
L ily feigned not to see the smile he blazed at her before he went off about his business. Razzle-dazzle. The man was dangerous, but for none of the reasons she’d expected. She’d been through hell the last few weeks, but who’d think it to look at her? Giggling. Simpering. Fluttering, for God’s sake. She must be suffering from hormonally induced brain damage to be acting this way. Hey, what’s mortal danger next to a superlative piece of man meat, right?
Not that she could characterize Bruno Ranieri
He’d been dead serious. He really would kick ass for her.
And she was right. It wasn’t smart. Not smart at all. But there it was.
He scooped up more rice pudding, covered his embarrassment with chatter. Quick, before he turned red. “So what else can I be honest about? Any other secrets you want to know about the male mind?”
She rolled her eyes, snorting. “Never mind the male mind. Men are mostly dogs and pigs. Tell me about you.”
“Tell you what?”
“Start at the beginning,” she said. “And keep it simple.”
“Not much to tell,” he said. “I was born in Newark. Spent the first twelve years of my life there.”
“Parents?” she asked crisply.
“I was raised mostly by my Uncle Tony and my Zia Rosa here in Portland,” he said.
“And before, in Newark? Who raised you then?”
He flinched away from the question. “It’s your turn, isn’t it?”
“Who said we were taking turns?” She wound her fingers together and rested her chin on them. “You’ve evaded my question twice. Not very skillfully, but that means you’re starting down the slippery slope toward dishonesty. So give up the goods.”
He blew out the tension with a sharp sigh. “I don’t know who my father was. I was a bastard. My mother never told me. Her family was ashamed of me, so it was just the two of us. She raised me alone.”
She looked startled. “Ah. Um—”
“My mother was murdered by her fuckhead scum of a boyfriend when I was twelve. That was when I left Newark. I don’t have anything else to say about Newark. If you don’t mind.”
Her eyes dropped. “No,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
Another charged silence went on and on. He realized that she had absolutely no intention of breaking it. It was up to him.
What the fuck. He just went for it. “I didn’t mean to be evasive,” he said. “I was just really enjoying the conversation with you. And a piece of information like that is a real conversation stopper. It’s like throwing a bomb on the table. Big downer.”
Her lips looked tight. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
He sighed. Oh well. So much for this one. You win some, you lose some. Time to swallow the bitter pill of reality and get back to work.
He let the spoon drop and slid across the booth seat to get up.
She snagged his wrist. “I’m sorry I jerked you around,” she said, her voice husky. Long, chipped black nails dug into the skin of his wrist like kitten claws. “And I’m sorry about your mom,” she added, timidly.
He sat back down on the seat, silently jubilant. “What about my dad?” he asked. “Aren’t you sorry about him, too?”
Her mouth curved. “What for? Fuck him. He provided the best of himself and disappeared before he could do any more damage. We’ve already established that men are dogs and pigs, right?”
“Most men,” he said. He rolled his hand around beneath hers until he could clasp her hand from below. The contact was giving his palm a gazillion little mini-orgasms. “The day-shift guy will be here in about twenty-five minutes,” he said. “Want to go out, take a walk? I’ll tell you more about the awful, horrifying truth about men. Stuff you’ll never learn in Cosmo . You could write a book. If you’re interested.”
“Strangely enough,” she said. “I think I am.”
5
L ily feigned not to see the smile he blazed at her before he went off about his business. Razzle-dazzle. The man was dangerous, but for none of the reasons she’d expected. She’d been through hell the last few weeks, but who’d think it to look at her? Giggling. Simpering. Fluttering, for God’s sake. She must be suffering from hormonally induced brain damage to be acting this way. Hey, what’s mortal danger next to a superlative piece of man meat, right?
Not that she could characterize Bruno Ranieri
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