“Who’s asking?” I say.
“Me.”
I give her my most charming smile. “Then here I am.”
Let me just step back for a moment and tell you that she’s older than me, but with every glance that makesless and less of a difference—she’s got hair I could get lost in, and a mouth so soft and full I have a hard timetearing my eyes away to check out the rest of her. I’m itching to get my hands on her skin—even the ordinaryparts—just to see if it feels as smooth as it looks.
“I’m Julia Romano,” she says. “I’m a guardian ad litem.”
All the violins soaring in my veins screech to a stop. “Is that like a cop?”
“No, I’m an attorney, and I’m working with a judge to help your sister.”
“You mean Kate?”
Something in her face tightens. “I mean Anna. She filed a lawsuit for medical emancipation from yourparents.”
“Oh, yeah. I know about that.”
“Really?” This seems to surprise her, as if defiance is something Anna’s cornered the market on. “Do youhappen to know where she is?”
I glance at the house, dark and empty. “Am I my sister’s keeper?” I say. Then I grin at her. “If you feel likewaiting, you can come up and see my etchings.”
To my shock, she agrees. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I’d like to talk to you.”
I lean against the door again and cross my arms, so that my biceps flex. I give her the grin that’s stopped halfthe female population of Roger Williams University in their tracks. “You got plans for tonight?”
She stares at me like I’ve just spoken Greek. No, damn, she’d probably understand Greek. Martian. Orfreaking Vulcan. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
“I’m sure as hell trying,” I say.
“You’re sure as hell failing,” she responds flatly. “I’m old enough to be your mother.”
“You have the most fantastic eyes.” By eyes, I mean tits, but whatever.
Julia Romano chooses that moment to button her suit jacket, which makes me laugh out loud. “Why don’t wejust talk here?”
“Whatever,” I say, and I lead her up to my apartment.
Given what it usually looks like, the place isn’t so bad. The dishes on the counter are only a day or two old;and spilled cereal isn’t nearly as bad to come home to after a full day as spilled milk. On the middle of thefloor is a bucket and rag and container of gas; I’m working up some firesticks. There are clothes all over thefloor, some artfully arranged to minimize the effect of a leak in my moonshine still.
“What do you think?” I smile at her. “Martha Stewart would love it, huh?”
“Martha Stewart would make you her life project,” Julia murmurs. She sits down on the couch, leaps up, andremoves a handful of potato chips that have, holy God, already left a grease print in the shape of a heart onher sweet ass.
“You want a drink?” Don’t let it be said my mother never taught me manners.
She glances around, then shakes her head. “I’ll pass.”
Shrugging, I pull a Labatt’s out of the fridge. “So there’s been a little fallout along the home front?”
“Wouldn’t you know?”
“I try not to.”
“How come?”
“Because it’s what I do best.” Grinning, I take a nice long pull of my beer. “Although this is one blowout Iwould’ve loved to see.”
“Tell me about Kate and Anna.”
“What am I supposed to tell you?” I swing down next to her on the couch, way too close. On purpose.
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