about the pig. Nothing about Maislin. Nothing I could pick up about any of his related interests.”
She watched him work at the stove, and thought it was nice that he’d gone to some trouble for her. He’d bought a daisy and set the table with linen and crystal. She wasn’t sure of his motives, but she appreciated the effort all the same. And she had to admit, she enjoyed the companionship.
Her gaze drifted the length of him, and desire rushed through her in a scalding wave. She shook her head and muttered a warning to herself.
The intensity of the attraction was inappropriate. She didn’t take sex lightly, and he wasn’t a man she’d choose for a serious relationship. It was a waste of perfectly good hormones, she thought. She’d waited all these years for her body to respond to a man, and wouldn’t you know it would be to a wrong number like Pete Streeter. There was no justice in the world.
Pete noticed she was muttering again. He brought the hot food to the table and watched for a few seconds while she conversed with herself. She was a little crazy, he decided. A jillion women in the world, and he had to fall in love with one who was crazy. It figured.
She smacked herself on the forehead with the heel of her hand. “Unh!”
“Now what?”
“And another thing,” she said. “I’m not going to sleep with you, so you can just forget it.”
He grinned and passed her the spaghetti. She was crazy all right, but it was kind of cute. “Of course you’ll sleep with me.”
A look of astonishment appeared on her face, and her mouth fell open.
He sighed and forked spaghetti onto her plate. Probably he shouldn’t have said that, he thought. Sometimes it didn’t pay to be entirely honest with women. He helped himself to the spaghetti and realized she was still sitting there in dumbfounded apoplexy so he spooned sauce over both their plates and added grated cheese.
He didn’t know why she looked so disconcerted. It was obvious they were going to be lovers. It was just a matter of time. True, she didn’t think he was all that great right now, but he was sure she’d come around.
Louisa snapped her mouth closed and stabbed her fork into her spaghetti. Of all the nerve! If she wasn’t so hungry, she’d get up and walk right out of there, she told herself, but no sense turning her back on a good meal. She tapped her fork against her plate and narrowed her eyes. “How can you be so sure we’ll end up in bed?”
How could he be sure? Every instinct he possessed told him so. Being next to her was like getting trapped in a force field of carnal electricity. Every molecule in his body hummed with desire. And when he kissed her, he could feel her need for him. It was there. He was sure of it. Did she want to hear any of that? Probably not. He shrugged and took a piece of warm bread. “I like to think positive.”
Another whack on her forehead. “Unh!”
“I guess that means I said the wrong thing again.”
“You have much success with women?”
“Well, I don’t like to brag…”
Louisa held her hand up. “Stop. Forget I asked.”
It was a dumb question, anyway, she thought. Women probably threw themselves in front of his car for five minutes of attention. Probably, he had so many women following him around that he had to beat them off with a stick. Of course, that was because they didn’t know about his laundry habits.
“Maybe we should change the subject. Maybe we should get back to the pig problem.”
“I’d like to take a look at the guy who delivered the pig. His name’s Bucky Dunowski. He works at the pig farm as a security guard, and he lives a few miles south of the facility, just over the state line.”
“You think he became attached to Miss Piggy and took her home?”
“Anything’s possible. The pig farm is about an hour’s drive from here…maybe a little longer. How about if we go to Pennsylvania tonight and check out ol’ Bucky.”
“Tonight?”
“Sure. It’s perfect. We can skulk around in the dark, looking for pigs. No one will ever see us.” He didn’t really think he’d find a pig in Bucky’s backyard, but skulking around in the dark with Louisa sounded like a good idea.
“No! Definitely not. It was bad enough lying to Amy Maislin. I am not going to Pennsylvania with