Flirting with Temptation - By Kelley St. John Page 0,69

and if you still were in such bad shape, then you should go see a doctor. I was even going to offer to drive you.”

“But?” she prompted, knowing more was coming.

“But then I realized that Rose wouldn’t let you suffer for three days straight. She’d have already gotten you to a doctor, one way or another, if you weren’t getting better. And then I started wondering why you would lie about how bad your sunburn was, for three days straight.”

“I am peeling a bit,” she reminded, and turned so he could see the small area on her biceps where she’d started peeling.

“But you’re also talking, and quite well,” he pointed out.

She snapped her mouth shut, not knowing how to argue with that, since she hadn’t stopped attempting to explain herself since he got here.

“And then it hit me, the reason you’d want me to think you can’t leave this condo.”

“Because I’m trying to learn to cook,” she said quickly, rather proud of herself for responding so fast.

It didn’t fool him. “Because you’re afraid you’ll flirt, and that I’ll catch you flirting, and then you won’t succeed in getting me to talk with Kitty.”

She gasped, but it sounded bogus even to her own ears.

He grinned. “Be ready in an hour, Babette. We’re going dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“Yeah. Dancing. You know, couples, music, a band. Dancing.”

She swallowed hard, felt a twinge of panic. Dancing was a prelude to sex, and dancing was such an easy means for flirting. He was trying to trap her, and she wasn’t sure how to get out of it.

“But we’re cooking dinner,” Tillie called from the kitchen. “And Hannah is coming over to teach her how to make cinnamon rolls. Then we’re going to talk about the guys at Sunny Beaches and then spend the night here with Babette. It’s our girls night out. You wouldn’t ruin that for us, would you?”

Tillie was telling the truth, exactly what Babette had promised they’d do tonight, and she was beyond thankful that they’d planned their special girls night out. Surely he wouldn’t disappoint three women in their eighties simply because he wanted to prove a point to one in her thirties.

“That’s right. I can’t go dancing tonight,” she said. “Sorry.” She tried to look apologetic, but a smile of pure triumph was itching to be set free. It was itching so much, in fact, that she had to squish her mouth up like a persimmon to keep from smiling, and then cheering. Tillie had just become her new BFF.

Jeff’s turquoise eyes narrowed suspiciously, but then he seemed to regroup, and smiled.

That smile made her nervous. She really needed him to go. Because suddenly, and quite out of the blue, she recalled him helping her on Saturday night, drying her off with her shirt, putting those spectacular sheets on her bed, getting her a night shirt, taking care of her, being more than a friend . . . and she wanted to kiss that smile.

“Tomorrow then. That’s even better, in fact. There’s a benefit dance at a nightclub in Panama City. We’re going. Be ready at 6:00.”

“But we’re cooking at 6:00,” Tillie said. “I’ve already bought the stuff to teach her how to make beef stew. We’re cooking it here, then taking it over to Sunny Beaches to feed the guys. Pick her up at 8:00.”

Babette didn’t know whether to laugh at Tillie ordering Jeff, or cry because she could almost feel her impending failure. Dancing without flirting. She wasn’t even sure that was possible. “We are cooking again tomorrow night,” she said. “And truthfully, it could take longer than we’d thought. Probably another night would be better for you and I to . . .”

“Be ready at 8:00. We’ll be a little late arriving, but that’s okay.” He nodded goodbye to the two women leaning out of the kitchen and hanging on every word, then he grinned at Babette. “Be ready.” And then he was gone.

“I’m so screwed,” she said, at the precise moment that her cell phone started ringing. She picked it up, checked the caller ID, and prepared to talk to Kitty for the tenth time today. Once again, Babette would have to dodge her questions about specifics that Jeff had said about their relationship. Then she’d tell her the same thing she had all day, that she’d been making progress, and that Kitty could count on Jeff talking to her by next week. That would be true, if Babette could make it without flirting. “I’m so screwed,” she repeated,