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“What, the bunny suit’s okay with you?”
“Stop it,” Lori gasped. “My mascara is going to run.”
Taking advantage of her incapacitation, Quinn leaned down to retrieve the book. “Just give me a hint. A title. A number.”
Her deep breath whispered past her lips in a long, long sigh. She inhaled just as slowly, making him wait before she finally gave in. “Number one,” she said. “And…number four.”
He glanced down. “But number four is about an alien.”
“Iknow.”
“I’m human.”
Lori finally raised her head to glare at him past her smudged makeup. “Oh, for God’s sake, Quinn. He’s just blue. Otherwise everything else is the same. They never have any tentacles or extra…actually, sometimes…But the guy in this story is normal.”
“Okay, one and four.” And thank the sweet Lord she hadn’t mentioned number two, because that was about a woman and manandhis best friend. Quinn wasn’t going there, not even for Lori.
The bill arrived, and as soon as he’d paid it, Lori straightened up and nodded. “All right. Your place or mine?”
Quinn jerked back in his chair. “Pardon?”
“Where are we going to do this?”
“Do this?You’ve got a nice way of making a boy feel special, you know that?”
Lori closed her eyes, brow wrinkling in stress. “I’m sorry.” She waved her hands as if there were cobwebs brushing her face. “I don’t know how to do what we’re doing. I’m feeling a little freaked out, and I don’t mean to be rude, but I just want to get it over with.”
Her eyes opened while Quinn was still bouncing off the triangular walls of offense, shock and amusement.
“Quinn, I’m sorry. I know I’m being rude, but I just need to get through this first time, you know? Oh, God.” Her green eyes filled with sudden tears. “I’m turning into a monster.”
“I do feel sort of like a harem girl being called up for the sultan’s latest pleasure.”
“Story number five,” Lori whispered.
“Exactly. Shall I prepare myself for you, mistress?”
“God!” She surged to her feet, swaying a little on heels she wasn’t used to wearing, then spun and headed for the door.
Quinn grabbed her purse—and the book—and followed.
“Lori?” It took him only a moment to spot her. She stood at the corner of the next side street, facing his car, just at the edge of a pale circle of light falling from one of the old-fashioned lampposts. As he watched, she reached down and slid one red heel off, then the other.
Glancing back at the sound of his steps, she raised her shoes in a gesture of defeat. “I’m no good at this.”
“It’d be a little strange if you were.”
She just shook her head.
Despite his grand plans, Quinn was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to pick her up, kiss her senseless and drag her home to his lair. Lori was usually nothing if not strong and sure, but right now she looked as fragile as cracking glass. And why was that a turn-on? Some ancient, embarrassing male fantasy of saving a beautiful damsel in distress? What century was he living in?
A slight wind rippled the material of her skirt and tugged at the brown spirals of her curly hair.
“Lori, the whole point of this is for you to have a good time. It’s supposed to be hot and mindless, right? But tonight you’re worrying and thinking way too much.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I don’t want you to be someone else. Just yourself.”
