Driven to Distraction (Silhouette Desire S.) by Sheri Whitefeather, Dixie Browning Page A

of his eyebrows, the angular cheekbones, a nose that was not too big, but not too small, either—and the shape of his mouth.
    Oh my, yes, the shape of his mouth…
    She wanted to ask what else the woman had taught him—if he’d had a special relationship with her and if so, what had happened to it.
    None of your business.
    She had her own past, such as it was; he had his. If there was one thing she’d learned over the years since she’d first noticed that boys were a different and rather interesting species, it was that the really good-looking ones were usually vain and immature. Not that many of the really good-looking had given her a second glance, much less asked her out on a date.
    Suzy was setting out sandwich components when they reached the kitchen, “Where’s Ann?” Maggie asked. She got out a pitcher of iced tea and opened the freezer compartment. “She said she’d help.”
    â€œDunno. Her coffee mug’s missing, so maybe she’s back in the room.”
    After filling a bucket with ice, Maggie slipped away to check on the missing member of the team, trying to remember anything she’d read about allergies that might be helpful. Ann wasn’t in the room they shared, nor was she in the studio. Maggie dashed upstairs to check the bathroom, called a few times in both directions, then hurried back down to do whatever else was needed. Lunch was usually a do-it-yourself meal, but the team-of-the-day was supposed to make the process easier.
    â€œMaybe she drove into town for a prescription or something.” Suzy was layering cheese, onions and peanut butter on a poppyseed roll.
    Maggie stared at it and shuddered. “If she’s smart she’ll have lunch while she’s out. Who did the grocery shopping for this place? Why isn’t there any low-fat mayo?”
    â€œHow about rye bread? Next time anybody goes to town, how about picking up a loaf?” Charlie asked.
    Bumping elbows, begging pardons and discussing everything from arch supports to the best source of ready-cut mats, everyone pitched in before wandering away, sandwiches and drinks of choice in hand.
    Suzy and Maggie remained in the kitchen, finishing off leftover slices of cheese and a box of stale vanilla wafers.
    â€œI might as well clean out this peanut butter jar. We can open a fresh one tomorrow,” Suzy said.
    Maggie picked up wafer crumbs with her thumb. “Wonder what Perry meant when he asked if we could touch our toes. Was he trying to be cruel? I mean, just look at this class—most of the women probably wear support hose, and the men aren’t much better.”
    â€œCharlie might wear support hose, but I betcha Ben doesn’t.” Suzy grinned, leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms. “Be glad to check it out for you, though. Wasn’t that what you were wanting me to do? Check out the guys?”
    â€œOne guy only,” Maggie reminded her.
    â€œOh, yeah, I keep forgetting.”
    â€œSurrre you do,” Maggie teased.
    Once the kitchen was put in order, the two women joined the others in the studio where the morning’s efforts had been laid out on the tables, ready for a critique. Maggie pointedly didn’t look at Ben, but her peripheral vision was excellent. He stood, feet bracedapart, hands on his narrow hips, silently challenging Perry to do his worst.
    Perry was just hitting his stride when someone near the window noticed that it had started to sprinkle outside. In the rush to rescue whatever had been left behind after the morning’s session, Maggie heard Ben tell the two women at his table to stay put, that he’d collect their things.
    And that was another thing—he was so darned decent!
    She beat him to the front door by half a step and was headed down the wet steps when he caught her by the waist and swung her to the ground. Over her protests he said calmly, “Crazy shoes, slick steps, sure recipe for