then he remembered where he was. “Nuclear fission is like trying to dispose of a mouse with a rocket launcher. Dangerous and unnecessary.”
“My mother would love you, but that doesn’t sound very physicist-like.”
“Not all scientists agree.” Knowing he was on unsteady ground, he went back to the toaster. “Tell me about your sister.”
“Libby? Why?”
“I have an interest in her, since she has my brother.”
“She isn’t exactly holding him for ransom,” Sunny said dryly. “In fact, he rushed her down the aisle so fast, she barely had time to say ‘I do.’”
“What aisle?”
“It’s a figure of speech, J.T.” She spoke slowly now, and with a sigh. “When people get married, they, you know, go down the aisle.”
“Oh, right.” He thought that over as he fiddled with the toaster. “You’re saying that the marriage was Cal’s idea.”
“I don’t know whose idea it was, if that matters, but he was certainly enthusiastic.” Her fingers began to drum as her annoyance grew. “I get the impression you think Libby pushed Cal into something here, or that she, I don’t know, used feminine wiles to trap him.”
“Does she have them?”
After she finished choking on her tea, Sunny took a long breath. “This may be tough for you to understand, Hornblower, but Cal and Libby love each other. You’ve heard of love, haven’t you? Or doesn’t it compute?”
“I’ve heard of the concept,” he said, mildly enough. It was intriguing to watch her temper rise—as it did with very little provocation. Her eyes darkened, her skin flushed, her chin lifted. Attractive when composed, she was simply devastating when aroused. He wouldn’t have been human if he hadn’t considered how interesting it would be to arouse her in other, more rewarding ways. “I haven’t experienced it myself, but I have an open mind.”
“That’s big of you,” she muttered. Rising, she stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and stalked to the window. Lord, he was a prize. If she managed to keep from murdering him before Cal and Libby got back, it would be a miracle.
“Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Been in love,” he said, running the staff of the screwdriver through his fingers.
She sent him a particularly vicious look. “Keep out of my personal life.”
“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t, not a bit. He was as determined to make her look like a fool as she was to make him sound like one. “It’s just that you sounded so knowledgeable on the subject I assumed you’d had quite a bit of experience. Yet you’re not matched—married—are you?”
Whether he’d aimed or just shot from the hip, he’d hit the target dead-on. She hadn’t been in love, though she’d tried to be several times. Self-doubt only fanned the flames of anger.
“Just because a person hasn’t been in love doesn’t mean he or she can’t appreciate its value.” She whirled back, hating the fact that she’d been put on the defensive and determined to turn the conversation around. “The fact that I’m not married is purely a personal choice.”
“I see.”
The way he said it had her teeth snapping together. “And this has nothing to do with me. We’re talking about Libby and Cal.”
“I thought we were talking about love as a concept.”
“Talking about love with a heartless clod is a waste of time, and I never waste mine.” She balled a hand on her hip. “But we both have an interest in Libby and Cal, so we’ll clear it up.”
“All right.” He tapped the screwdriver on the edge of the table. He didn’t need a computer to tell him what a clod was. It was just one more thing she would have to pay for before this was over. “Clear it up.”
“You automatically assume that my sister, being a woman, lured your brother, being only a man, into marriage. What an incredibly outdated theory.”
His fingers paused in the act of reattaching the toaster’s coil. “Is it?”
“Incredibly outdated,
“My mother would love you, but that doesn’t sound very physicist-like.”
“Not all scientists agree.” Knowing he was on unsteady ground, he went back to the toaster. “Tell me about your sister.”
“Libby? Why?”
“I have an interest in her, since she has my brother.”
“She isn’t exactly holding him for ransom,” Sunny said dryly. “In fact, he rushed her down the aisle so fast, she barely had time to say ‘I do.’”
“What aisle?”
“It’s a figure of speech, J.T.” She spoke slowly now, and with a sigh. “When people get married, they, you know, go down the aisle.”
“Oh, right.” He thought that over as he fiddled with the toaster. “You’re saying that the marriage was Cal’s idea.”
“I don’t know whose idea it was, if that matters, but he was certainly enthusiastic.” Her fingers began to drum as her annoyance grew. “I get the impression you think Libby pushed Cal into something here, or that she, I don’t know, used feminine wiles to trap him.”
“Does she have them?”
After she finished choking on her tea, Sunny took a long breath. “This may be tough for you to understand, Hornblower, but Cal and Libby love each other. You’ve heard of love, haven’t you? Or doesn’t it compute?”
“I’ve heard of the concept,” he said, mildly enough. It was intriguing to watch her temper rise—as it did with very little provocation. Her eyes darkened, her skin flushed, her chin lifted. Attractive when composed, she was simply devastating when aroused. He wouldn’t have been human if he hadn’t considered how interesting it would be to arouse her in other, more rewarding ways. “I haven’t experienced it myself, but I have an open mind.”
“That’s big of you,” she muttered. Rising, she stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and stalked to the window. Lord, he was a prize. If she managed to keep from murdering him before Cal and Libby got back, it would be a miracle.
“Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Been in love,” he said, running the staff of the screwdriver through his fingers.
She sent him a particularly vicious look. “Keep out of my personal life.”
“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t, not a bit. He was as determined to make her look like a fool as she was to make him sound like one. “It’s just that you sounded so knowledgeable on the subject I assumed you’d had quite a bit of experience. Yet you’re not matched—married—are you?”
Whether he’d aimed or just shot from the hip, he’d hit the target dead-on. She hadn’t been in love, though she’d tried to be several times. Self-doubt only fanned the flames of anger.
“Just because a person hasn’t been in love doesn’t mean he or she can’t appreciate its value.” She whirled back, hating the fact that she’d been put on the defensive and determined to turn the conversation around. “The fact that I’m not married is purely a personal choice.”
“I see.”
The way he said it had her teeth snapping together. “And this has nothing to do with me. We’re talking about Libby and Cal.”
“I thought we were talking about love as a concept.”
“Talking about love with a heartless clod is a waste of time, and I never waste mine.” She balled a hand on her hip. “But we both have an interest in Libby and Cal, so we’ll clear it up.”
“All right.” He tapped the screwdriver on the edge of the table. He didn’t need a computer to tell him what a clod was. It was just one more thing she would have to pay for before this was over. “Clear it up.”
“You automatically assume that my sister, being a woman, lured your brother, being only a man, into marriage. What an incredibly outdated theory.”
His fingers paused in the act of reattaching the toaster’s coil. “Is it?”
“Incredibly outdated,
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