she’s irritated when they’re dazzled by the way she looks, so she ends up tossing them back. She’d probably end up breaking your heart,” she added, gesturing with her glass. “But it might be good for you.”
“I don’t have a heart,” he said when the waitress brought their dessert. “I thought you’d figured that out.”
“Sure you do.” With a sigh of surrender, Cybil picked up her fork, scooped up the first bite and tasted with a long moan of pleasure. “You’ve just got it wrapped in armor so nobody can bayonet it again. God, isn’t this wonderful? Don’t let me eat any more than this one bite, okay?”
But he was staring at her, amazed that the little lunatic across the hall had zeroed in on him so accurately, so casually, when those who claimed to love him had never come close.
“Why do you say that?”
“Say what? Didn’t I tell you not to let me eat any more of this? Are you a sadist?”
“Never mind.” Deciding to let it go, he yanked the plate out of her reach. “Mine,” he said simply. And proceeded to eat the rest.
He only had to poke her once with his fork to hold her off.
* * *
“Well, I had fun.” Cybil tucked her arm through his as they walked back toward their building. “Really. That was so much more entertaining than an evening trying to keep Johnny from sliding his hand up my skirt.”
For some reason, the image irritated him, but Preston merely glanced down. “You’re not wearing a skirt.”
“I know. I wasn’t sure I could get out of the date, and this was my automatic defense system,”
The breezy saffron-colored slacks struck him abruptly as more sexy than defensive. “So why don’t you just break Johnny’s face like you did the mugger’s the other night?”
“Because Mrs. Wolinsky adores him, and I’d never be able to tell her that the apple of her eye has hands like an ape.”
“I think that’s a mixed metaphor, but I get the picture. You’re a pushover.”
“Am not.”
“Are so,” he said before he caught himself and fell too deeply into the childish game. “You let your friend Joanie—”
“Jody.”
“Right, push her cousin on you, and the old lady downstairs sticks you with her nephew with the fast hands, and God knows how many other friends you have dumping their cast-off relatives in your lap. All because you can’t just say butt out.”
“They mean well.”
“They’re meddling with your life. It doesn’t matter what they mean.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She blew out a breath and smiled at a young couple strolling on the opposite side of the street. “Take my grandfather. Well, he’s not really my grandfather if you get picky, which we don’t. He’s my dad’s sister Shelby’s father-in-law. And on my mother’s side, she’s cousin to the spouses of his other two children. It’s a little complicated, if you get picky.”
“Which you don’t.”
“Exactly. There’s all this convoluted family connection between Daniel and Anna MacGregor and my parents, so why niggle? My aunt Shelby married their son Alan MacGregor—you might have heard of him. He used to live in the White House.”
“The name rings a distant bell.”
“And my mother, the former Genviève Grandeau, is a cousin of Justin and Diana Blade—siblings—who married, respectively, Daniel and Anna’s other two children, Serena and Caine MacGregor. So Daniel and Anna are Grandpa and Grandma. Is that clear?”
“Yes, I can follow that, but I’ve forgotten the entire point of the exercise.”
“Me, too.” She laughed in delight, then had to tighten her grip before she overbalanced. “A little too much wine,” she explained. “Anyway, let me think … Yes, I have it. Meddling. We were talking about meddling, which my grandfather—who would be Daniel MacGregor—is the uncontested world champ at. When it comes to matchmaking, he knows no peer. I’m telling you, McQuinn, the man is a wizard. I have …”
She had to stop, use her fingers
“I don’t have a heart,” he said when the waitress brought their dessert. “I thought you’d figured that out.”
“Sure you do.” With a sigh of surrender, Cybil picked up her fork, scooped up the first bite and tasted with a long moan of pleasure. “You’ve just got it wrapped in armor so nobody can bayonet it again. God, isn’t this wonderful? Don’t let me eat any more than this one bite, okay?”
But he was staring at her, amazed that the little lunatic across the hall had zeroed in on him so accurately, so casually, when those who claimed to love him had never come close.
“Why do you say that?”
“Say what? Didn’t I tell you not to let me eat any more of this? Are you a sadist?”
“Never mind.” Deciding to let it go, he yanked the plate out of her reach. “Mine,” he said simply. And proceeded to eat the rest.
He only had to poke her once with his fork to hold her off.
* * *
“Well, I had fun.” Cybil tucked her arm through his as they walked back toward their building. “Really. That was so much more entertaining than an evening trying to keep Johnny from sliding his hand up my skirt.”
For some reason, the image irritated him, but Preston merely glanced down. “You’re not wearing a skirt.”
“I know. I wasn’t sure I could get out of the date, and this was my automatic defense system,”
The breezy saffron-colored slacks struck him abruptly as more sexy than defensive. “So why don’t you just break Johnny’s face like you did the mugger’s the other night?”
“Because Mrs. Wolinsky adores him, and I’d never be able to tell her that the apple of her eye has hands like an ape.”
“I think that’s a mixed metaphor, but I get the picture. You’re a pushover.”
“Am not.”
“Are so,” he said before he caught himself and fell too deeply into the childish game. “You let your friend Joanie—”
“Jody.”
“Right, push her cousin on you, and the old lady downstairs sticks you with her nephew with the fast hands, and God knows how many other friends you have dumping their cast-off relatives in your lap. All because you can’t just say butt out.”
“They mean well.”
“They’re meddling with your life. It doesn’t matter what they mean.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She blew out a breath and smiled at a young couple strolling on the opposite side of the street. “Take my grandfather. Well, he’s not really my grandfather if you get picky, which we don’t. He’s my dad’s sister Shelby’s father-in-law. And on my mother’s side, she’s cousin to the spouses of his other two children. It’s a little complicated, if you get picky.”
“Which you don’t.”
“Exactly. There’s all this convoluted family connection between Daniel and Anna MacGregor and my parents, so why niggle? My aunt Shelby married their son Alan MacGregor—you might have heard of him. He used to live in the White House.”
“The name rings a distant bell.”
“And my mother, the former Genviève Grandeau, is a cousin of Justin and Diana Blade—siblings—who married, respectively, Daniel and Anna’s other two children, Serena and Caine MacGregor. So Daniel and Anna are Grandpa and Grandma. Is that clear?”
“Yes, I can follow that, but I’ve forgotten the entire point of the exercise.”
“Me, too.” She laughed in delight, then had to tighten her grip before she overbalanced. “A little too much wine,” she explained. “Anyway, let me think … Yes, I have it. Meddling. We were talking about meddling, which my grandfather—who would be Daniel MacGregor—is the uncontested world champ at. When it comes to matchmaking, he knows no peer. I’m telling you, McQuinn, the man is a wizard. I have …”
She had to stop, use her fingers
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