Picture Me Sexy by Rhonda Nelson Page B

I’ll bite. What part?”
    She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and casthim a sly glance. “Not much really. Just the part where I wrote ‘asshole’ in weed killer.”
    An unexpected laugh exploded from his chest, then tittered out into an impressed chuckle. “Very devious, Ms. Walker. Remind me never to piss you off.”
    She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I didn’t notice you having a lawn.”
    â€œThere is that,” he conceded. “But I am fond of that peace lily over in the corner.”
    A beat passed, then she said, “I know it was childish, but I just couldn’t seem to help myself. And I felt considerably better when I was finished. Almost went back and stole some of his antique roses as well, but I changed my mind.”
    â€œAh…weren’t ready to add theft to your rap sheet, eh?”
    Smiling, she shook her head. “Nah, not yet, anyway.” She expelled a heavy breath. “So what do you think? Think they’ll get the power back on sooner than what they’re reporting?”
    Sam winced regretfully. “I doubt it. If anything, their estimate seems more optimistic than realistic. Still, I suppose it just depends on the damage.”
    â€œI imagine an eighteen-wheeler could do a lot of damage,” Delaney said grimly. “Wonder if the driver is okay.”
    â€œI’d wondered about that as well. They didn’t comment one way or the other, did they?”
    â€œNo,” she sighed. “They didn’t.”
    â€œWell, we’ll just keep listening to the radio. They’ll give regular updates. In the meantime, I suppose we should make the best of it. Are you hungry? I could scare up some dinner.”
    â€œYou can cook?” she asked, surprised. “How?”
    Sam shifted and drew a self-important breath. “I use a nifty little gadget. It’s called a stove. It’s incredible, really,” he deadpanned. “It has these things called eyes—but they don’t really look like eyes—and they get hot and—”
    She chuckled softly and rolled her eyes. “I know what a stove is, thank you. I meant how are going to cook with no electricity.”
    Chuckling as well, Sam absently scratched his chest and said, “I’ve got a gas stove.”
    â€œAh,” she sighed knowingly. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Candles, gas logs, a gas stove. Totally prepared. You’re just a regular Boy Scout, aren’t you?”
    Right down to the box of condoms in his nightstand drawer, Sam thought and immediately regretted it. Condoms made him think about sex and thinking about sex made him think about having sex with her. Within seconds, a vision of himself plunging between her thighs flashed behind his lids, practically burning the image into his retinas.
    â€œI suppose,” Sam finally replied and conjured the required smile. “I can make a pretty good omelette. Does that sound okay to you?”
    Delaney’s stomach issued a hungry growl. Shelooked up and her lips tucked into an embarrassed grin. “Does that answer your question?”
    â€œYeah. Everything-but-the okay with you?”
    Her brow wrinkled. “Everything-but-the?”
    â€œIn your omelette. Everything-but-the, as in everything but the kitchen sink.”
    She poked her tongue into her cheek. “Oh, sure. That sounds great. Need any help?” she offered.
    â€œNah, I’ve got it,” Sam told her, hauling himself up from the couch. He grabbed the flashlight. “Bumbling around my kitchen in the dark might not be safe.” On many levels, Sam thought, as another handy vision of the two of them rocking his dinette table across the kitchen floor flitted through his sadistic mind. “You, uh, just sit back and relax. I’ll be back in a sex.”
    Her expression froze.
    â€œIn a sec, ” Sam quickly clarified with an embarrassed chuckle. “A