Strong, Sleek and Sinful - By Lorie O'Clare Page 0,33
perspective from teenagers. Apparently she’s going to several different towns before writing her thesis and turning it in. They tell me she’s a cultural anthropologist and is focusing on teenagers as a subculture within our social structure. From what I heard, it sounds as if she actually has some interesting data gathered.”
“She told the girls what data she’s gathered?” It wasn’t jealousy or envy that stabbed at his insides. Just because Kylie wouldn’t let him see her work but shared it with his nieces didn’t mean shit. He did barge in on her and accuse her of playing investigator. And the jury was still out on that one.
“Dani told me she saw some of Kylie’s notes. She’s convinced that fourteen-to sixteen-year-old girls are more daring on the computer than seventeen-and eighteen-year-old girls. Apparently, although all girls in that age group seem to have no problem meeting people they don’t know after talking to them online, girls in the fourteen-to sixteen-year-old bracket are more inclined to meet boys for dates than teenagers in other age brackets.” Megan paused and sipped at a drink.
He pictured his sister gripping her glass of iced tea, drinking and then getting that faraway look in her eyes like she always did when she digested information. “What was Dani’s take on all of that?”
“Are you kidding? Dani tell me what she’s thinking?” Megan laughed. “So anyway, the girls think it would be great to have Kylie over for dinner. And I admit I’m a bit curious about her. How does next Wednesday night sound to you?”
“Why are you asking me?” Perry scowled, already guessing the outcome of the conversation. He hated his sister trying to match him up with anyone. “If you want to meet Kylie, that’s your business. I’ll be busy.”
“You will not,” Megan snapped. “And I expect you to invite her over. Let’s say six thirty. That gives me time to get home from work and I’ll have the girls focus on supper.”
Perry turned onto his street and slowed, hitting his brights before he reached his driveway. “Megan, you know I hate it when you get your hopes up about something.”
“Perry. I’m a widow with four teenage daughters. I work two jobs and have no life. Let me do this. It will be fun and something to look forward to,” she said, pausing as her tone turned serious. “Or are you telling me that there is absolutely no chemistry whatsoever between the two of you?”
He didn’t mean to hesitate with his answer. Perry glanced in his rearview mirror and then across his yard when his headlights swooped over his large, neatly mowed corner lot. It was habit, confirming that no one lurked waiting for him to get out of his Jeep. Years of being on the force, knowing he was personally responsible for more than one criminal going to jail, made it habitual to watch his ass coming and leaving his home.
“That’s what I thought,” Megan said smugly, as if he’d responded. “Then next Wednesday at six thirty. Be sure and tell me when she confirms.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he grumbled, and parked the Jeep outside his garage door, which was closed. “Talk to you later, Sis.”
“Love you, little bro,” she chirped, and hung up the phone.
Perry grabbed his monitoring equipment and cell phone and then headed inside. He showered, something that usually helped him unwind after coming home, but tonight he was wound just as tight after slipping into his sweatpants and padding barefoot to his kitchen for a beer.
He opened his refrigerator, staring at the bleak contents before leaning over and pulling out one of several long-neck beers. Twisting the cap off, he tossed it in the trash and grabbed the monitoring equipment.
Perry’s den faced the front of his house and oftentimes served as his bedroom as well as a computer room. After closing his blinds and placing the small black box next to his computer, he changed the settings so he could hear everything without earphones and slumped into his chair behind his computer.
His desktop appeared on his monitor when he moved his mouse and at the same time the audio started crackling on his monitoring equipment. Perry strained to hear what was picked up on the bugs in Kylie’s home.
“You’re still up, sweetheart,” he whispered, staring at the nondescript black box.
Before tonight, his interest in Kylie was physical. He hated thinking that a grown woman wearing such innocent-looking yet incredibly seductive minidresses could get him hard as stone when