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Authors: Kari Lee Harmon
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In your dreams, Zuc . He wasn’t that well-endowed. “Yeah, well, Dukeypoo, I wouldn’t be comparing myself to that loaf of bread. Looks to me like he’s been castrated, too.”
Dylan laughed, the rat, then disappeared and came back carrying a bowl of tossed salad. “Anything else?”
“Actually, yes. Does your Mr. Winkie give you any problems?” I managed to choke out, and he gave me a level stare. “Hey, you asked.” God, this project bit the big one. Ooops . That hadn’t come out the way I meant. It basically sucked. Like that was any better. Good Lord, I couldn’t even think without getting myself into trouble.
“Well, that’s a question for Mr. Winkie.” He winked. “Why don’t we ask him?” He set the salad on the table and looked down at himself. “Hey, buddy, the nice lady wants to know if you’re having any problems?”
Darned if I didn’t join him. “Oh, I’d say he’s responding just fine,” I croaked, yanking my mortified gaze up to meet his twinkling one.
“You asked. I answered.” He pulled out his seat and sat.
“And then some.” I fanned my cheeks. “So, um, does having a zucchini ever worry you that it won’t fit, or that you might hurt your partner?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why? Are you afraid of it?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I... I...” How did I tell him without him thinking I was using him? I was using him, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to know it. I had taken Gloria’s suggestion--turn the tables on the opposite gender--but I was still a woman, which meant I had a conscience. “I’m not afraid of ‘it,’ I just haven’t had very good experiences when it comes to men. Guess I’m trying to figure out what makes them tick.” At least I hadn’t lied.
He shifted in his chair and eyed me suspiciously. Okay, so the light, playful tone of the conversation had just taken a nosedive to the serious side. Don’t worry, pal, I’m not going to burden you with my problems .
“You? I can’t imagine you having problems with men.” The sincerity in his eyes threw me, and I wondered if he’d heard about the scandal. Could he be different from all the other men I’d met and actually like me for me?
I mentally shook myself. How would he have heard of the scandal? Paranoia had set in. The chances that he had heard of the scandal were slim, but I wasn’t willing to gamble with my fresh start. “You have no idea.”
“So, you just want to know what makes me tick, that’s all?”
“Yeah, you know. What kinds of things guys think about. I don’t understand the male species at all. It’s like dealing with an alien.”
“Man, I know the feeling. I thought I understood the female population, until I met this shrink.” He shook his head, and a pained expression briefly flashed across his face. “She gave me the runaround, keeping me out of work much longer than I had to be, all because she had an ulterior motive. I don’t think I’ll ever trust a shrink again, at least a female one, anyway.” He met my gaze head-on. “So what do you want to know?”
Well, that killed any ideas I might have been entertaining. I had no intention of becoming a shrink, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t help me if he knew the information I was gathering was going to put be in a psychology project. I couldn’t tell him about my project now. Guilt crept down my spine. “I want to know when we’re going to eat. The food smells delicious, and I’m starved.”
“Me, too. Guess I got distracted by the unique dinner conversation.” He smiled, his sparkling sapphires roaming over my face and then dropping lower to skim over the pale-green sweater molding my bumps with nipples. “Nice sweater, by the way. It matches your eyes.”
“How would you know? My eyes are up here, Detective.” I crossed my arms over my chest, sending him mixed signals, I was sure. But I had to. My willpower had dwindled, big time.
Frowning, he cleared his throat. “Better dig in before
Dylan laughed, the rat, then disappeared and came back carrying a bowl of tossed salad. “Anything else?”
“Actually, yes. Does your Mr. Winkie give you any problems?” I managed to choke out, and he gave me a level stare. “Hey, you asked.” God, this project bit the big one. Ooops . That hadn’t come out the way I meant. It basically sucked. Like that was any better. Good Lord, I couldn’t even think without getting myself into trouble.
“Well, that’s a question for Mr. Winkie.” He winked. “Why don’t we ask him?” He set the salad on the table and looked down at himself. “Hey, buddy, the nice lady wants to know if you’re having any problems?”
Darned if I didn’t join him. “Oh, I’d say he’s responding just fine,” I croaked, yanking my mortified gaze up to meet his twinkling one.
“You asked. I answered.” He pulled out his seat and sat.
“And then some.” I fanned my cheeks. “So, um, does having a zucchini ever worry you that it won’t fit, or that you might hurt your partner?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why? Are you afraid of it?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I... I...” How did I tell him without him thinking I was using him? I was using him, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to know it. I had taken Gloria’s suggestion--turn the tables on the opposite gender--but I was still a woman, which meant I had a conscience. “I’m not afraid of ‘it,’ I just haven’t had very good experiences when it comes to men. Guess I’m trying to figure out what makes them tick.” At least I hadn’t lied.
He shifted in his chair and eyed me suspiciously. Okay, so the light, playful tone of the conversation had just taken a nosedive to the serious side. Don’t worry, pal, I’m not going to burden you with my problems .
“You? I can’t imagine you having problems with men.” The sincerity in his eyes threw me, and I wondered if he’d heard about the scandal. Could he be different from all the other men I’d met and actually like me for me?
I mentally shook myself. How would he have heard of the scandal? Paranoia had set in. The chances that he had heard of the scandal were slim, but I wasn’t willing to gamble with my fresh start. “You have no idea.”
“So, you just want to know what makes me tick, that’s all?”
“Yeah, you know. What kinds of things guys think about. I don’t understand the male species at all. It’s like dealing with an alien.”
“Man, I know the feeling. I thought I understood the female population, until I met this shrink.” He shook his head, and a pained expression briefly flashed across his face. “She gave me the runaround, keeping me out of work much longer than I had to be, all because she had an ulterior motive. I don’t think I’ll ever trust a shrink again, at least a female one, anyway.” He met my gaze head-on. “So what do you want to know?”
Well, that killed any ideas I might have been entertaining. I had no intention of becoming a shrink, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t help me if he knew the information I was gathering was going to put be in a psychology project. I couldn’t tell him about my project now. Guilt crept down my spine. “I want to know when we’re going to eat. The food smells delicious, and I’m starved.”
“Me, too. Guess I got distracted by the unique dinner conversation.” He smiled, his sparkling sapphires roaming over my face and then dropping lower to skim over the pale-green sweater molding my bumps with nipples. “Nice sweater, by the way. It matches your eyes.”
“How would you know? My eyes are up here, Detective.” I crossed my arms over my chest, sending him mixed signals, I was sure. But I had to. My willpower had dwindled, big time.
Frowning, he cleared his throat. “Better dig in before
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