Slow Hands

sharing a half pitcher with him, instead of some sweet, girlie drink. She seemed relaxed. If not outright laughing, she at least smiled more than once.
    “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I don’t think they even serve salads here, unless they’re topped with deep-fried chicken and a mountain of cheese.”
    One fine, delicate brow arched and she stared at him with quiet reproach, though a hint of a smile lurked on her beautiful mouth. “What are you suggesting, Jake? That I should only be eating salads?”
    He backpedaled, holding up a quick, defensive hand. Damn, how could guys avoid these basic traps women always set out for them? “No way.” Grinning, he added, “Just seems like the only things my sisters ever ordered. God forbid one of them should ever have taken a bite out of a hamburger, especially if one of their boyfriends was around.”
    “It’s a female thing.” She sighed heavily, as if accepting something that was inevitable. “Not just the instinct to watch what we eat, so we can look like what all the media images tell us we should look like. There’s also a need to eat lightly in front of men, as if we need to assure them we’re on top of things and will never gain weight.”
    “When secretly you’re all dying for wings and nachos?”
    She licked her lips, then smacked them together before reaching for another. “Yes. Any of your sisters married?”
    “The oldest, with three kids—twin boys and a girl. And Blair, who’s a year older than me, is engaged.”
    “Uh-huh. Watch her at the wedding reception. She’s going to bite into the first piece of cake she’s had since she decided he was the one , and will look like she’s already had her first orgasm of the night.”
    Knowing his big sister, Maddy was probably right. Then the orgasm part of her statement kicked in and he coughed into his fist.
    She didn’t even seem to notice. “Which is why most new wives gain a few pounds in the first year of marriage, not including the weight of the rock on their hand.”
    “So should I be flattered that you’re on your fourth wing? You don’t need to worry about impressing me?” He wondered what she’d say if she knew he was more impressed by her adorable honesty and the way she licked the tips of her fingers after each nibble. Yum .
    “Exactly. Because this is not a legitimate date.”
    “Says you.”
    “Says me.”
    “What if it was?”
    She snorted an inelegant laugh that sounded completely unlike her, but incredibly cute. “Then I would have asked for a bread stick and a glass of water.”
    He knew this one. “With lemon!”
    “Of course. Natural diuretic.” She wagged her eyebrows, a very un-Maddylike move. “You’re good.”
    “Hello, three sisters?”
    “ Three? Goodness, you do get a lot of torment.”
    She had no idea. The older two used to dress him up as a baby doll and play with him when they were kids. Usually choosing to dress him as a girl. Not that he was about to tell her that.
    “What if I wanted it to be?” he asked.
    “Wanted it to be what?”
    Knowing he was pushing it, but realizing he had an opening provided by the beer or two, which had helped her loosen up, he plunged forward. “A real date.”
    She shook her head, dipping the appetizer into a tiny dish of blue cheese dressing. “Not an option.”
    Wow, talk about shooting a guy down without a moment’s hesitation. But Jake didn’t worry…the night was young. He had a few hours to change her mind.
    Besides, he knew where she worked. She’d soon find out that he didn’t give up on something he wanted quite that easily. And he most definitely wanted her. More with every minute that passed.
    He risked a quick, appreciative look across the table at her curvy figure, so incredibly sexy in her hot pink top. “By the way, in my opinion you don’t have a thing to worry about.”
    “Ha. I have huge breasts, short legs, what my father likes to call my late mother’s ‘childbearing hips’ and a big backside.”
    As if any man would complain about a single one of those things? Was she for real? “Honey from where I’m sitting, you are just about perfect.”
    “From where you’re sitting, you can’t see the extra fifteen pounds that couldn’t be removed from my body by a plastic surgeon using an industrial Shop-Vac instead of a liposuction machine.”
    He barked a quick laugh. “You’re not going to get an agreement from any man alive on that score, Madeline Turner. You are shaped exactly