Her Healing Touch. Lindsay McKenna

she goes by a group of men who start callin’ and whistling and embarrassing her.”

      Raising his brows, Burke leaned back and began to eat. “I thought it was kind of nice.”

      “You’re a man. You would.”

      “Tell me something?”

      “Maybe.”

      “Do you hate men?”

      “No. I just don’t like that most of them have their brains between their legs. You can’t think your way out of a paper bag with that kind of anatomy.”

      Burke roared with laughter. His male voice, deep and rolling, momentarily broke through the feminine chatter in the mess. Every single woman stopped talking, lifted her head and looked in their direction.

      Angel cringed. She bit down hard on the chicken leg. Though she tried to ignore the looks of her squad mates, she could have killed Gifford for his laughter. Of course, he had a nice laugh, if she was honest with herself. And his entire face changed—remarkably. He was actually quite good-looking when he smiled. Unhappy with her response to him, she snapped, “I just insulted you.”

      “No, you called that one. I’m finding out you like a fast game of tit for tat. I’m okay with that, insults and all. In fact, I’m ready, willing and able to go head-to-head with you.”

      “Don’t flatter yourself too much, Gifford.”

      “With you around, I won’t have to, will I? You’ll keep me in line.”