Part 13 (1/2)

”So I should rethink the lizard thing? I prefer to sleep at three A.M., not listen to an amorous lizard.”

Caleb laughed. ”I didn't say he was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the rocks, I said he's s.c.r.e.w.i.n.garound with the rocks.”

”So you think.”

”I don't want to know.”

Trish switched her legs and took a sip of water, taking some weird pleasure in making Caleb laugh. This dogooder s.h.i.+t wasn't all that hard.

And her interest had nothing to do with the fact that he was d.a.m.n cute, with the hottest body she'd ever seen off the WWF circuit.

”We grew up practically neighbors then. When I wanted to be daring and pretend I was hip, I used to go to Lakewood.”

”Let me guess-you grew up in one of those lakefront houses with private beach privileges. And went to private high school.”

d.a.m.n. ”Maybe.” It was fine for her to make a.s.sumptions about him, but having it turned back on her was annoying. Especially since he was right.

”You like to come here and slum after a day out sailing or dinner at some trendy restaurant?”

If he only knew how little she had fit in at her all-girls high school, how often she'd been reprimanded for breaking dress code with striped black-and-white socks, and how the administration had not appreciated her turning the school newspaper into a hotbed of debate on crime and punishment in America. No one was extending her an invitation to the yacht club, and her parents indulgently referred to her as their ”driven” daughter.

”Sure, I get a cheap thrill from eating greasy food and gawking at the commoners.” Trish swatted him on the arm. ”Come off it! I work with criminals all day long. I have no pretensions. I grew up in comfortable surroundings, but so what? I drive a c.r.a.ppy, ten-year-old Toyota, my favorite hangout is the bowling alley, and while I've never dated a guy who was technically blue collar, that was never intentional. It was more a convenience factor, but I'm rethinking that. The guys I know are all schleps, so a welder has to be a step up.”

Caleb had stopped brooding long enough to look amused. ”You know any welders?”

”No, but maybe you could hook me up. You know, I may be on to something here. You realize that we all date in a very narrow circle, usually people we work with or through mutual friends. There are probably a thousand single guys I've never even come into contact with, all right here in like a ten-mile radius.”

”You going to date all thousand?”

”Maybe,” she said airily. It would keep her busy for the next ten years or so, while her friends all settled into domesticity and diapers and had increasingly less time to spend with her.

He laughed. ”You should probably just start with one, Trish.”

For some insane reason, she smiled up at him and moistened her lips with her tongue. ”Know anyone who might volunteer?”

The grin faded off Caleb's face. ”Maybe I do.”

Three.

”Hey, Caleb, Trish.” Joe leaned over the bar in front of them and Caleb was annoyed at the interruption.

”What's up, man?” In other words, leave so he could go back to talking to Trish, who after two hours of conversation, had shed her shoes and her reserve. She had a cute little spot of pink on each cheek as she dissected her favorite movie for him.

”Last call, buddy. You want anything?”

Jesus, make that four hours. Caleb looked at Joe in surprise. ”It's one-thirty?”

”Yep. Time flies when you're sitting on your a.s.s gabbing. But when you're a working stiff like me, you feel it. It is most definitely one-thirty.”

Trish laughed. ”And we haven't even gotten started on the secondLord of the Rings movie yet.”

Joe groaned. ”Oh, G.o.d, spare me. Caleb's always boring the s.h.i.+t out of me with that fantasy elf c.r.a.p, trying to drag me to those movies. I'm glad he's found another geek to talk about it with.”

And talk they had. About everything. He'd confessed to Trish he liked bowling, too, but riding his bike better. They liked the same books, movies, sports, and thought getting on the back of a horse was just nuts.

”Geek at your service,” Trish said wryly, bending over to pick up her shoes.

She obviously had no idea he could see right down her dress to the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, pushed up with a black satin bra. Caleb's mouth went dry and he felt a surge of l.u.s.t so powerful he almost shot off the d.a.m.n stool.

”Gorgeous geek,” he murmured.

”What?” she murmured, breathless as she stayed bent over, fooling with the straps on her heels.

”Nothing. I said you're not a geek.”

But Joe had heard him and gave him a questioning glance. ”You want some coffee or something Caleb, before you head out? You were pounding 'em pretty hard earlier.”

Joe must think it was the alcohol talking. And maybe it was, though Caleb didn't feel drunk anymore. He just felt a heightened awareness of the room around him, sound louder than normal, color vibrant. And he felt interest in something, someone, for the first time in a h.e.l.l of a long time.

”No, thanks, man, I'm fine. I guess I'll head out soon.” Not that he wanted to leave, go home to his empty house, listen to the silence, and Spanky getting it on with his rocks.

Trish sat up, all remnants of a smile gone. ”You're not going to drive home, are you?” She nodded to Joe, commanding and prissy and somehow d.a.m.n s.e.xy. ”Joe, call him a cab.”

Joe, the idiot, nodded. ”Sure thing, babe.”

”Wait a minute! I can't take a cab. I rode my bike here and I'm not leaving it in the parking lot overnight.”

Trish fiddled with her bra strap, giving him another flash of flesh. He took a deep breath and s.h.i.+fted, his c.o.c.k caught in an uncomfortable position as it swelled enthusiastically.

”So what? Just throw it in the trunk of the cab.” Trish rolled her eyes. ”I'm not letting you drive.”

There was something she was missing here, and it struck him as funny. ”I don't think a Harley will fit in the cab's trunk.”

Joe laughed. ”I'll let you two work this out. Let me know if you want the cab company's number.”

Trish gave him a blank look, then raised her eyebrows in understanding. ”Oh, I get it. Here I was picturing you, this huge guy, pedaling a bicycle, and the thought was killing me, I'm telling you. But on a hog, okay, that makes more sense.”

”Thanks for your approval.”

”But you still can't drive.”

And she stood up and leaned over him, hands sliding down past his waist, groping and feeling all over his thighs, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s brus.h.i.+ng against his chest.

”What the h.e.l.l are you doing?” He wasn't sure whether to move out of her reach or grab her, throw her on the bar, and kiss her. Odds were two to one on kissing her.

”Whoa!” He jerked when her hand dipped into his jeans pocket and fished around. Christ almighty, if she s.h.i.+fted to the right a little she'd be stroking his johnson.