Charade. Lori Foster

I’ve ever done in my life. But I don’t do bad things, either, discounting my comment on your weight, of course. I pay my taxes on time, I don’t drink and drive, I donate to charities—although, only when they actually catch me. I’m a gentleman and I’m kind to older people. Surely all that counts for something?”

      “Not much.”

      “Come on, Carlie. Can’t you forgive me? I was only curious, after all, not being deliberately insulting. If I was too nosy, well it’s only because I think you could be very attractive. No, don’t make rude noises at me again. You are intelligent, very intelligent. That’s something to be admired. If you made a little effort with your appearance, you might have plenty of equally intelligent men knocking your door down. You would probably have a very busy social schedule.”

      “I don’t have time for a...busy social schedule.”

      “It’s not a disease, you know. You’re a fun person to be with. You should be involved with someone special.”

      Carlie tilted her head back to survey the ceiling. Without looking at him, she asked, “Why do you care, Tyler? I’m not some bird with a broken wing you need to teach to fly. I don’t want to fly. Walking is much more my speed.”

      “I have an idea,” he announced, very pleased with himself.

      “Oh, no. Now we’re in it deep.”

      He laid his palms flat on the table, and raised himself out of his chair to loom toward her. “Date me.”

      Carlie eyed him as if he’d grown a second head. As she kept him waiting, he reseated himself, tapping his fingers on the table. “Well?”

      “I’m waiting for the punch line.”

      “All right. Here it is. You might like it. You might enjoy my company.”

      She made a show of stifling her laughter. “You should get paid. You’re a professional.”

      “Professional what? Or should I ask?”

      “Comedian, of course.”

      “I’m being serious here. The least you could do is listen to me.”

      “No, the least I could do is make you go home and take your insanity with you.” She seemed almost angry—and flustered. Her cheeks were a warm, rosy pink, and her hands trembled just the tiniest bit. Then she widened her eyes comically, gasping. “You don’t think it’s catching, do you?” She shoved her chair back, holding her hands up in a defensive gesture.

      Tyler slowly rose from his seat. “All right, you. I think I ought to take you in hand. Talk about my manners!” As he advanced on her, circling the table with a menacing stride, Carlie shrieked and jumped to her feet, moving quickly to keep the table between them.

      “All right! All right! Tell me what you have to say.”

      Tyler advanced. “Too late. You’ve challenged my masculinity. And with my ego as enormous as you claim, that must surely be grounds for assault. Now you’ll have to pay.”

      She was trying not to laugh. He watched the grin grow on her face, and felt satisfaction. Chuckles emerged from between her tightly drawn lips. She clapped a hand over her mouth, still moving cautiously. He followed.

      Then Tyler lunged across the table, grabbing for her. She screeched in surprise, but it was already too late. He had her.

      Hauling her body across the table, his grip firm on her upper arms, Tyler grinned at her. She was laughing, her glasses were askew, her chest heaving. And he had the insane, almost overwhelming urge to kiss her.

      What the hell? he thought, and leaned closer, his eyes on her soft, slightly parted lips. He was filled with an anticipation that even surpassed what he’d felt at the pool house with the masked lady, and that had been shocking in its intensity. What he felt now was so alien to his jaded senses, he actually jerked when she spoke.

      Her voice wasn’t breathless. It was low and menacing. “Back off.”

      He did. Slowly regaining his wits, mortified by what he had almost done—to Carlie, for Pete’s sake—Tyler managed an unconcerned shrug. “I’ve never really...played with a woman before. I was only going to—”

      “Oh, please. Spare me. I know what you were doing.”

      “Uh, what?” Maybe she could tell him, for he certainly hadn’t a clue what had been in his mind. Carlie? Good grief.

      Carlie fussed with her glasses. “You’re playing games. I already told you, I won’t have it.”

      That sounded plausible, though not entirely true. But it helped him to regain his aplomb. “Of course I was playing. And so were you. That’s why you should date me. Ah-ah, just hear me out.” He waited until she sat down again. “Now, don’t storm out on me. I think we could enjoy each other’s company, at least, as long as we keep it platonic. I hope you didn’t think I meant—”

      “Why?” she interrupted, her tone sharp, her look suspicious. “Why would you want to spend more time with me?”

      “I like you. Really like you. You make me laugh.” Then he added, “And you keep me humble.”

      She snorted, then ignored his chastising look at the rude noise.

      “It would be good for us both. You would learn to relax a little, to concentrate on something other than your obligation to the school, and like I said, I enjoy your company.”

      “Surely there are other women whose company you would enjoy more?”

      “Perhaps. But for different reasons.” She opened her mouth, and he raised a hand in surrender. “I know. Uncalled for. Acquit me. But I’ve been really bored lately and...”

      He frowned at her bubble of laughter. “I’m perfectly serious, I’ll have you know. Here I am, laying my heart out to you, and you’re rudely stomping all over it.”

      “You know what, Tyler?”

      He didn’t trust her grin. “Probably not.”

      “It has been fun at odd and varying moments, which if you’re being sincere, is surprising to us both.”

      He grabbed his chest, feigning a heart attack. “What? You admit to enjoying my company? I’m not totally without redemption? I’m not totally cast down? Carlie McDaniels likes my company! What more encouragement could a man ask for?”

      “At odd and varying moments,” she clarified. “Okay, so where would we go and what would we do on these experimental, platonic dates?”

      “Then you’ll do it?”

      “Absolutely not. Not until you answer my question.”

      “I don’t know.” He hadn’t really thought things through. “The usual stuff?”

      “Such as?”

      “Dinner? Dancing?” He grinned, ready to elaborate and add to his list. “Roller skating? Bungee jumping? Body surfing?”

      “I could maybe handle a movie. It’s dark there and nobody would have to know I was out with a maniac.”

      He beamed at her. “Excellent choice. Tomorrow?”

      “Tomorrow is Saturday. Don’t you have a real date?”

      “Carlie, Carlie, Carlie. This will be a real date. Up to, but excluding, the good-night kiss.”

      Carlie twisted her mouth in apparent thought, chewed the corner of her bottom lip and studied her short, neat nails.

      “You’re not contemplating death, you know,” he said dryly. “I’ll even let you choose the movie.” He watched the fleeting expressions on her face, and saw her indecision, her...nervousness? Damned unaccountable female. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to actually beg for a date. It was a