Playing with Dynamite. Leanne Banks

friend told him that even the thought of going up again made him break into a cold sweat.

      For a sliver of a moment, Brick wondered if a man could develop the same clinical kind of fear of marriage. Uneasiness trickled in. Brick snorted in disbelief. A phobia about marriage? Get real. What would they call it?

      Ten minutes later, he was cruising the parking lot of Lisa’s apartment complex. After noting that her car was there, he parked and rang her doorbell. It was a warm day, so he decided to check the pool too. He knew Lisa usually took a break from working on Sunday afternoon.

      She was stretched out on a chaise longue, slathering sunscreen all over her nearly bare body. Her hair was loosely piled on top of her head, and a huge pair of sunglasses with white frames was sliding down her nose. She wore a purple one-piece bathing suit with flowers all over it and skinny little straps holding up the delectably filled bodice. It was cut low enough in front and high enough on the thighs that Brick could have used some aspirin to bring down the sudden surge of his body temperature. His mouth watered just looking at her. Didn’t women realize that one of most men’s top ten fantasies usually involved taking off a woman’s bathing suit, lathering her down with something slippery, then having her return the favor to him?

      He dipped his hand into the pool, splashed some water on his face, and walked toward her. He shook his head. One look, he thought, and she’d turned him inside out.

      “Need some help,” he offered.

      Lisa’s head whipped around.

      He saw a spark of recognition and excitement flicker through her eyes just before she shoved the glasses back into place. Hoping like hell he didn’t screw up, he pulled a chair closer and sat down.

      “No. I’m about done.” She smoothed the cream over her shoulders one last time.

      Brick noticed a dot of unspread lotion on the inside of her left breast and felt a ridiculous envy for her suntan lotion. He hadn’t touched her intimately in over a month. “You missed a spot.”

      Lisa glanced down the front of her, her sunglasses slipping again. “Where?”

      Brick lowered his voice. “Where you used to let me touch you.”

      Lisa went completely still. Her gaze automatically went to her thighs, and then to Brick. A memory taunted her of his hands caressing and teasing her until she arched against him, and his hard legs brushing against her softer ones as he slowly slid inside her… With devastating speed, she felt the beginning of her body’s automatic response. She bit the inside of her cheek. Edgy, she sucked in a deep breath and crammed her sunglasses back up again. “Oh for Pete’s sake! Where is it?”

      Before she could blink, he put one index finger on her breast and gently spread the dot of lotion. One second, she felt the sensuous stroke of his finger and was struck by the fascination his heavy-lidded gaze didn’t hide. Then his hand was gone, and she was trying to get her brain to work.

      “I wouldn’t want you to get burned.”

      Lisa cleared her throat. She pushed down the cap on the lotion and tossed it into her tote bag. “No, I, uh, wouldn’t—what are you doing here?”

      He shrugged. “Just got back from Beulah County and thought I’d see how your—” He paused, wondering what to call it. “—search is going?”

      She eased back into her chair and closed her eyes. Perhaps if she didn’t look at him, her heart rate would settle down. “It’s going fine. I have a date tonight.”

      “Is this a three-star man?”

      Lisa refused to feel embarrassed about that again. “Of course.”

      “You never told me what three stars means.”

      “That’s right. It’s none of your business,” she said cheerfully.

      “Must be damned convenient to be able to turn your feelings on and off like a faucet,” he said sincerely. “I haven’t had the same luck.”

      Lisa blinked and stared at him. His words shook her. “Oh, for crying out loud, I never—”

      “Just because you’re gonna marry another man,” Brick said the words, and felt as if he were chewing nails, “doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, does it?”

      The sudden look of confusion on Lisa’s face would have been amusing if Brick hadn’t been fighting for his life. “Friends?” she said tentatively, as if it were a new word.

      “Sure. It’s a lot better than being enemies.” It’s a lot better than nothing, he added to himself.

      “We’ve never really been friends,” Lisa said, her voice laced in skepticism.

      Brick had to work to take that jab in stride. “With all your…dates—” Brick forced the repugnant word out “—it would be nice to have a friend around, someone you’ve known for a long time, someone who knows you, someone you don’t have to impress.” He grinned. “Someone you could tell what those three stars represent.”

      Lisa laughed uncertainly and shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

      “C’mon,” Brick said, putting a little dare in his voice. “If I were your friend, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

      Lisa hesitated, looking doubtful. She cocked her head to one side, and Brick wished he could take off her sunglasses to read her eyes. She gave a sigh. “All right. The three stars mean the man likes women and children, and he’s not opposed to the general idea of marriage.”

      “What about money, appearance, age and sex?”

      Lisa gave a little shrug. “They’re all secondary to the other three qualities. Age and appearance can be settled on the first date, money by the second, and sex…”

      Brick’s gut tightened.

      “Sex would be last.”

      Sex with another man would be never, if Brick had anything to do with it. He rubbed his hand over his mouth in restraint. “It sounds like a plan,” he muttered.

      “It is. This book I’ve been reading says you can get married in less than two years. It talks about keeping a practical attitude and using your resources.”

      The book again. “Using your resources?”

      Lisa nodded. “One of the most interesting facts it reported was that many married couples are introduced by mutual friends, so the author suggested that you tell all your friends that you’re looking and ask for recommendations.”

      Lisa looked at him and a strange expression crossed her face. Brick experienced an even stranger foreboding. In the back of his mind he could almost hear the cock of a gun. She leaned forward, and her sunglasses slipped again to give him a view of the complete sincerity in her eyes. Her lips curved into a slow, siren smile designed to drop a man at fifty paces. And Brick was at one and a half.

      “Tell me, Brick,” she said sweetly, “can you recommend one of your friends to father my children?”