change.”
“Ah. Now I know why she was so happy.”
“Yeah, but she has to give the delivery kid a tip. She can be pretty stingy.”
Carly brought back the pizza boxes, set them on the counter, and grabbed some plates from one of the cabinets.
Mark handed me a plate and then piled his own with a several slices of pepperoni pizza, a couple of breadsticks, and a container of cheese dipping sauce. He disappeared into the family room.
I took a slice of pizza and followed Carly as she headed the same direction.
She nodded toward the large sofa, so I sat down. She left her plate on the glass coffee table and ran back to the kitchen. When she returned, she set our glasses of soda down on the table, picked her plate back up, and plopped down in a recliner.
Mark was fiddling with a DVD player connected to a large-screen television. “I took the liberty of choosing a movie. Let me know if you don’t like it, Jackie.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I picked up my pizza and took a bite. I almost choked when Jackass came on the screen. With some embarrassment, I quickly chewed and swallowed the pizza. “Your favorite show?”
He laughed. “Nah. Just wanted to see your reaction.”
“Cops are weird. He’s always trying to find out about people by watching them,” Carly added from her perch on the recliner.
He winked at her before he asked, “What do we watch, Ms. Delgado? I vote for one of the Lethal Weapon shows.”
Carly wrinkled her nose. “If I have to watch one of those again, I’ll... I’ll...”
“Leave us alone?” her father asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You said I could stay for a while!”
Fearing a family fight over the presence of a teenage chaperone, I intervened. “I don’t like cop shows. Too much...macho. All that testosterone and all.”
In actuality, I hated violence in any form—especially guns. They made me queasy and nervous. For me, watching an action flick would’ve been akin to having a nasty root canal without any anesthetic. The only thing I would have hated worse was a slasher flick. My theory was those kinds of movies would eventually lead to the downfall of mankind.
Mark appeared to be properly outraged.
I retaliated with a smile. “And Carly, you can stay. I enjoy your company.”
He looked properly pleased. After plucking a DVD from the shelf, he shoved it in the player and then flopped down next to me on the couch hard enough I bounced.
Happy Feet came on the screen. I hadn’t seen it, so I was thrilled. At least I was thrilled until I realized how many references to sex would be included in what was supposed to be a children’s cartoon. Jesus, the temperature went up rapidly. Mark and Carly didn’t seem to mind.
Maybe the problem was my own dirty mind.
Sometime during the show, she brought in the cinnamon sticks, and I ate a couple despite the fact it would be faster to apply them directly to my thighs and bypass the stomach entirely. They were going to wind up there eventually anyway.
As I held one up to take a bite, some of the icing began to drip, and I quickly caught it with the fingers of my other hand.
Carly jumped up and ran to the kitchen—probably to get me a napkin.
Mark glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen, then he reached for my sticky fingers and licked off the icing with one long, caressing lick of that heavenly tongue.
My face must have flushed the same red as the old Soviet Union flag. My heart was pounding a frantic rhythm as I realized just how much this man affected me.
He gave me an entirely wicked smile and dropped my hand just as Carly came back into the room and gave me a paper towel.
I pretended to wipe off the icing that was no longer on my fingers. I hoped she didn’t see what her father had done to cause my blush. I looked back at Mark to try and give him a chastising glare, but he wiggled his eyebrows at me. The temperature instantly shot even higher.
I tried to settle down and watch the cartoon. Carly flipped the
“Ah. Now I know why she was so happy.”
“Yeah, but she has to give the delivery kid a tip. She can be pretty stingy.”
Carly brought back the pizza boxes, set them on the counter, and grabbed some plates from one of the cabinets.
Mark handed me a plate and then piled his own with a several slices of pepperoni pizza, a couple of breadsticks, and a container of cheese dipping sauce. He disappeared into the family room.
I took a slice of pizza and followed Carly as she headed the same direction.
She nodded toward the large sofa, so I sat down. She left her plate on the glass coffee table and ran back to the kitchen. When she returned, she set our glasses of soda down on the table, picked her plate back up, and plopped down in a recliner.
Mark was fiddling with a DVD player connected to a large-screen television. “I took the liberty of choosing a movie. Let me know if you don’t like it, Jackie.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I picked up my pizza and took a bite. I almost choked when Jackass came on the screen. With some embarrassment, I quickly chewed and swallowed the pizza. “Your favorite show?”
He laughed. “Nah. Just wanted to see your reaction.”
“Cops are weird. He’s always trying to find out about people by watching them,” Carly added from her perch on the recliner.
He winked at her before he asked, “What do we watch, Ms. Delgado? I vote for one of the Lethal Weapon shows.”
Carly wrinkled her nose. “If I have to watch one of those again, I’ll... I’ll...”
“Leave us alone?” her father asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You said I could stay for a while!”
Fearing a family fight over the presence of a teenage chaperone, I intervened. “I don’t like cop shows. Too much...macho. All that testosterone and all.”
In actuality, I hated violence in any form—especially guns. They made me queasy and nervous. For me, watching an action flick would’ve been akin to having a nasty root canal without any anesthetic. The only thing I would have hated worse was a slasher flick. My theory was those kinds of movies would eventually lead to the downfall of mankind.
Mark appeared to be properly outraged.
I retaliated with a smile. “And Carly, you can stay. I enjoy your company.”
He looked properly pleased. After plucking a DVD from the shelf, he shoved it in the player and then flopped down next to me on the couch hard enough I bounced.
Happy Feet came on the screen. I hadn’t seen it, so I was thrilled. At least I was thrilled until I realized how many references to sex would be included in what was supposed to be a children’s cartoon. Jesus, the temperature went up rapidly. Mark and Carly didn’t seem to mind.
Maybe the problem was my own dirty mind.
Sometime during the show, she brought in the cinnamon sticks, and I ate a couple despite the fact it would be faster to apply them directly to my thighs and bypass the stomach entirely. They were going to wind up there eventually anyway.
As I held one up to take a bite, some of the icing began to drip, and I quickly caught it with the fingers of my other hand.
Carly jumped up and ran to the kitchen—probably to get me a napkin.
Mark glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen, then he reached for my sticky fingers and licked off the icing with one long, caressing lick of that heavenly tongue.
My face must have flushed the same red as the old Soviet Union flag. My heart was pounding a frantic rhythm as I realized just how much this man affected me.
He gave me an entirely wicked smile and dropped my hand just as Carly came back into the room and gave me a paper towel.
I pretended to wipe off the icing that was no longer on my fingers. I hoped she didn’t see what her father had done to cause my blush. I looked back at Mark to try and give him a chastising glare, but he wiggled his eyebrows at me. The temperature instantly shot even higher.
I tried to settle down and watch the cartoon. Carly flipped the
Similar Books
