he?”
“Not quite.” Polly raised her voice over a fresh rumble of thunder. “He’s with my mother at Hole Point.”
“Ah, dear Venus. How are the belly-dancing courses doing?”
“Very well,” Polly said, avoiding looking at Nasty. “She told me to remember her to you.”
“Festus is upstairs. I’ll call him down in a moment. He’s like a child with his new dome. The silly man stays up almost all night watching his beloved stars.”
Polly didn’t know Belinda or Festus’s last names, and she wasn’t sure of their relationship to each other. They did share the living quarters above Another Reality, and, in an enclosed loft space, Festus pursued his passion for astronomy.
Belinda fluffed out the yards of tiny purple-and-orange pleats in her floor-length gauze skirts. She made an odd face at Polly, then hitched at the voluminous, hooded tunic she wore over the skirt.
Leaning toward her friend, Polly raised her brows in question. “I expect you’d both like tea?” Belinda asked. Her fulsome voice vibrated with emphasis.
“Oh.” Flustered at her own omission, Polly grasped Nasty’s very substantial upper arm and said, “This is Nasty Ferrito.”
“I know,” Belinda said. “The shop with all those things for under the water.”
“Dive shop,” Nasty said, pleasantly enough. “Interesting place you’ve got here.”
“We like it,” Belinda said regally. Her narrow, green eyes made sure she’d never forget an inch of Nasty’s person. An audible sigh issued from her full lips before she picked up a small hemp bag tied with green twine and pressed it into Polly’s free hand. “Carry this with you at all times.”
Polly knew better than to ask what it was.
“Sexual stamina,” Belinda announced as she turned away. “I swear by it. And you’re obviously going to need it.”
The flaming heat in her face mortified Polly, but not as much as the fact that she dropped the bag.
Nasty picked it up and gave it to her again. He didn’t say a word, and he didn’t grin. Polly liked him for that.
“Sit down, sit down,” Belinda instructed waving them toward three rickety card tables arranged around a potbellied stove in the center of the shop. “I’m going to have to rethink Serenity.”
Nasty pulled out a metal chair for Polly and took one for himself. “Serenity? Is that code for something?”
“It’s tea,” Polly told him. “Soar to Serenity tea.”
“Let’s get off to a better start.” He sounded so earnest. “Last night was a disaster.”
“We didn’t get off to a start at all.”
“But we’d like to, wouldn’t we?”
Would she? Yes. Yes, da rn it all, she would. Polly couldn’t hold his gaze. She looked at his mouth. The bottom lip was much fuller than the top, th e outline very distinct. The corn ers turned up a little. Ironic in a man who rationed his smiles. When he did smile, dimples in his lean cheeks were an irre sistible surprise.
“Wouldn’t we, Polly?”
He wore a soft denim shirt very well. With a physique like his, he’d wear anything well… or nothing.
She hummed and hefted the little hemp bag in her palm.
“You hum a lot,” he said.
“Do I?”
“Yeah. You do it on the show when you’re demonstrating something, too. And you would like to start something with me. ”
“You have incredible nerve.”
“Only when I need incredible nerve.” He hooked his arms over the back of his chair. “And only when it’s worth what it costs me to do what doesn’t come naturally.”
A man’s chest wasn’t supposed to be so fascinating to a woman. In fact, men always said women weren’t turned on by men’s bodies.
Polly sniffed, and murmured, “Shows what they know.”
Nasty looked around. “Who?”
“No one,” she said, amused at her own behavior. Whatever sex appeal was, this man had enough for an army of men. His legs pressed against the jeans, made hard ridges where very developed muscles flexed. The fabric was bleached in places—
“Not quite.” Polly raised her voice over a fresh rumble of thunder. “He’s with my mother at Hole Point.”
“Ah, dear Venus. How are the belly-dancing courses doing?”
“Very well,” Polly said, avoiding looking at Nasty. “She told me to remember her to you.”
“Festus is upstairs. I’ll call him down in a moment. He’s like a child with his new dome. The silly man stays up almost all night watching his beloved stars.”
Polly didn’t know Belinda or Festus’s last names, and she wasn’t sure of their relationship to each other. They did share the living quarters above Another Reality, and, in an enclosed loft space, Festus pursued his passion for astronomy.
Belinda fluffed out the yards of tiny purple-and-orange pleats in her floor-length gauze skirts. She made an odd face at Polly, then hitched at the voluminous, hooded tunic she wore over the skirt.
Leaning toward her friend, Polly raised her brows in question. “I expect you’d both like tea?” Belinda asked. Her fulsome voice vibrated with emphasis.
“Oh.” Flustered at her own omission, Polly grasped Nasty’s very substantial upper arm and said, “This is Nasty Ferrito.”
“I know,” Belinda said. “The shop with all those things for under the water.”
“Dive shop,” Nasty said, pleasantly enough. “Interesting place you’ve got here.”
“We like it,” Belinda said regally. Her narrow, green eyes made sure she’d never forget an inch of Nasty’s person. An audible sigh issued from her full lips before she picked up a small hemp bag tied with green twine and pressed it into Polly’s free hand. “Carry this with you at all times.”
Polly knew better than to ask what it was.
“Sexual stamina,” Belinda announced as she turned away. “I swear by it. And you’re obviously going to need it.”
The flaming heat in her face mortified Polly, but not as much as the fact that she dropped the bag.
Nasty picked it up and gave it to her again. He didn’t say a word, and he didn’t grin. Polly liked him for that.
“Sit down, sit down,” Belinda instructed waving them toward three rickety card tables arranged around a potbellied stove in the center of the shop. “I’m going to have to rethink Serenity.”
Nasty pulled out a metal chair for Polly and took one for himself. “Serenity? Is that code for something?”
“It’s tea,” Polly told him. “Soar to Serenity tea.”
“Let’s get off to a better start.” He sounded so earnest. “Last night was a disaster.”
“We didn’t get off to a start at all.”
“But we’d like to, wouldn’t we?”
Would she? Yes. Yes, da rn it all, she would. Polly couldn’t hold his gaze. She looked at his mouth. The bottom lip was much fuller than the top, th e outline very distinct. The corn ers turned up a little. Ironic in a man who rationed his smiles. When he did smile, dimples in his lean cheeks were an irre sistible surprise.
“Wouldn’t we, Polly?”
He wore a soft denim shirt very well. With a physique like his, he’d wear anything well… or nothing.
She hummed and hefted the little hemp bag in her palm.
“You hum a lot,” he said.
“Do I?”
“Yeah. You do it on the show when you’re demonstrating something, too. And you would like to start something with me. ”
“You have incredible nerve.”
“Only when I need incredible nerve.” He hooked his arms over the back of his chair. “And only when it’s worth what it costs me to do what doesn’t come naturally.”
A man’s chest wasn’t supposed to be so fascinating to a woman. In fact, men always said women weren’t turned on by men’s bodies.
Polly sniffed, and murmured, “Shows what they know.”
Nasty looked around. “Who?”
“No one,” she said, amused at her own behavior. Whatever sex appeal was, this man had enough for an army of men. His legs pressed against the jeans, made hard ridges where very developed muscles flexed. The fabric was bleached in places—
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