don't know. Michael asked me to stop by his house this evening and I had to make up this excuse and the whole time I was on the bus I kept thinking I must be crazy."
"Then we're both crazy," he muttered, and sipped his coffee. It was hot, black, and thick. Just the way he liked it.
Monica sipped hers too, made a face, then reached for the sugar bowl. She added three heaping teaspoons before she sampled the liquid again.
"Where does that leave us?" she asked.
"I was thinking you could tell me."
"I can't." She raised her eyes to his, then quickly lowered them. "No one's ever kissed me the way you have."
That didn't come as any surprise to Chet. "That's only the beginning."
"What do you mean?"
"Kissing is the tip of the iceberg. There are a dozen different directions we could go from there."
She looked at him as if she hadn't a clue what he was talking about and he realized what should have been obvious from the beginning. Monica Fischer, preacher's daughter, was a virgin. He didn't know there were any left in the world and damned if he hadn't stumbled onto the last living one.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "You look as if you just swallowed a basketball whole."
"I feel that way." He stood so abruptly that the chair shot two feet away from the table. Slapping a fistful of change on the table he reached for her arm, practically lifting her out of the chair. "Come on, we're out of here."
His grip was so tight, Monica's toes barely touched the ground.
"Chet," she cried, "what are you doing?"
"Getting you out of here."
"Where are we going?" she asked. The way her voice struggled to stay even revealed the extent of her surprise.
"I'm taking you back to the bus stop."
"Why?" She shook herself free of his hold and whirled around to face him.
"Because, sweetheart, I just realized something. You're a virgin and I'm the last person you should be around."
"Why?" she asked. Apparently she still hadn't caught on.
"Because," he said, having trouble keeping the anger out of his voice, although it was directed at himself, and not her. He was a bigger fool than he'd realized.
"Because doesn't tell me anything."
She was having trouble keeping pace with him, but Chet didn't care. The sooner he was rid of her the better.
"Tell me what's so terrible about being a virgin. Good grief, you make it sound like I've got a communicable disease or something."
"All right, since you want to know I'll tell you, but you aren't going to like it." Chet stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Although it was well past seven the streets were busy. Several people were forced to walk around them. "I wanted you to go to my apartment tonight for one reason and one reason only. I planned to seduce you."
Monica went pale. "I see."
"Apparently you don't. Good-bye, Monica." Having said that he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the sidewalk.
Chapter 10
"Mom, I need another dollar." Timmy raced up to the table at the pizza parlor, his face bright and his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'm blowing the brains out of the Laser Man."
"I don't think this is the kind of video game I want you playing."
"Mom," he protested, "I was just kidding. I'm winning, or I was until just now, but I need another dollar. Hurry, I gotta get back before someone else gets the machine."
Luckily the pizza parlor wasn't overly crowded, although a handful of kids had gathered around a row of video games against the back wall. Jody didn't know how they could play at all with the lights so dim.
"Just a little while longer," Jody said, rummaging through her purse for yet another dollar. Timmy's easy acceptance of this outing with Glen had come as a welcome relief.
"Here." Glen held out a fistful of change to her son. "Take what you need."
"All these?" Coins spilled over Timmy's small hands. His eyes were round with disbelief as he hurriedly pocketed the change. "Gee, thanks."
"I want you to enjoy yourself."
"I will. Thanks, Glen," he said, walking backward. He turned abruptly, eager to get back to his prize machine.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Jody felt obliged to say. She didn't want Glen to spoil Timmy, especially if they were to continue seeing each other. Her son might come to look upon Glen as his own personal Santa Claus.
"I have an ulterior motive," Glen told her, his