Page 73 of Angel In Armani

“I’d noticed,” Sara said drily. “But I don’t think that makes him a better doctor.”

“Can’t hurt with his female patients.”

“Not going to help with Dad, though,” Sara said.

Liza sighed as she stripped off her rubber gloves. “No, your father is stubborn. And not inclined to like the men you sleep with.”

Sara froze. “Who says we’re sleeping together?”

“Honey, if you’re not sleeping with that man, then I’m sending you to the doctor to get your hormones checked out.” Liza winked and fanned herself. “Those eyes with that hair. You sure he’s not Irish?”

“Pretty sure that Angelo is an Italian name, Mom,” Sara said, trying to ignore the fact that her mom thought Lucas was hot.

“Well, you know what they say about Italian men.”

Sara put her hands over her ears. “La la la, not listening.”

“Your generation didn’t invent sex,” Liza said. “And I might be old and married but I’m definitely not blind.”

“Mom, can we change the subject, please? Yes, Lucas is hot. Yes, I’m sleeping with him, but no, I’d rather not discuss that with you. And I definitely don’t want to talk about it with Dad. Lucas is a good guy, not just some walking, talking piece of man flesh.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Lucas’s voice said from behind her.

Floor, swallow her up. Nope, didn’t seem like that was going to happen. She turned around, well aware that her cheeks were flaming.

Liza started laughing. “You should see your face, honey. You’ve got it bad.”

“Mom!”

Lucas leaned against the door frame, a broad smile on his face. “No, you should listen to your mom. She’s very wise.”

Liza beamed at him. “I can see why she likes you,” she said.

Lucas straightened. “I like her, too, Mrs. Charles.”

“Is there something I can get for you?” Liza said.

“I thought maybe some chips or something? We’re watching the game.”

Something to soak up some of the beer, Sara thought. At least on her dad’s part. Lucas had eaten two helpings of lasagna and salad and garlic bread, so he couldn’t possibly be hungry. But her dad hadn’t eaten much at all.

“I’ll get it, Mom,” she said. “Why don’t you go pick out a movie or something? If these two are doing male baseball bonding, I’m guessing we’ll be here awhile.”

“I’ll take Dougal out first,” Liza said. “He’s practically drowned himself in drool all through dinner. I’ll give him a couple of biscuits.”

“You spoil him,” Sara said.

“That because he’s the best dog,” Liza said. She bent over and patted her leg. Dougal pricked his ears from his spot in the dog bed in the kitchen. “C’mon, handsome,” Liza said. “Who wants a biscuit?”

She walked out of the kitchen with Dougal on her heels, eyes firmly fixed on the dog biscuits in her hand.

“I like your mom,” Lucas said.

“I do, too,” Sara said. She opened the pantry trying to see what suitably manly carbs might be lurking within. Corn chips, check. Salsa, check. Some of the disgusting beef jerky things her dad liked. And a bag of pretzels. That should do the trick.

“I’m not so sure your dad likes me, though,” Lucas said.

“If he’s watching sports with you then he’s decided you’re not too terrible.” Sara found bowls and started opening packets. “Did you talk to him?”

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