Page 6 of Mister Sexy Pants

“Your loss,” she says, then pops the bite in her mouth and moans around it.

Kill. Me. Now.

I try to focus on something else. Anything. What did we last talk about? Oh, right. Math. “But I admit that arithmetic has its uses.”

She brandishes her fork as if to punctuate my point. “I will see your arithmetic and will add fractions.”

“Caught you there. Fractionsarepercentages, Miss Polka Dot,” I say. “You can’t count them twice.”

“I know that. Do you have something against synonyms now too? Sheesh. Sometimes we need more than one way of saying something,” she says, a little challenging. “I say we keep fractionsandpercentages.”

Am I actually getting turned on by her fast brain? Oh hell yes, I am. “I would never, ever want to abolish synonyms,” I say.

“I probably wouldn’t return here if you did. That’d be the end of this whole thing,” she says, waving from me to her.

This thing.

Could this thing lead to one hot night?

Devil says yes.

I should fill in for Iris’s hubby more often. “Shame. I wouldn’t want that to happen. So, on our favorites list, we’ll keep synonyms, percentages, and how about . . .” My gaze drifts toward the window as the sun shines, unseasonably warm, on an April afternoon. “We add sunny days in April.”

She hums her approval. “It sounds like we have an agreement, then.”

“I believe we do, Miss Polka Dot,” I say, and I’m this close to asking her out for coffee.

Coffee’s just coffee, after all. It won’t even count as breaking my no-dating-this-year vow. And coffee could lead to one hot night between the sheets.

But before I can ask, the door swings open, and a gaggle of teenage girls pours in. So much for synonyms for dating.

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