Magic Hands by Jennifer Laurens Page B

you said, it’s what you do , Cort thought but couldn’t type it. Instead, he wrote: CORT: forget it. how are the nails?
    RACHEL: awesome. u did a great job. if they don’t lift, u’l have a new customer CORT: more proof ?
    RACHEL: you’re stil proving? good. 4 a minute i thought i might have scared u off CORT: u don’t scare me
    In fact, now that he’d decided his plan of action, he wasn’t concerned about anything. He’d find out for himself if she was walking the streets under the lamplight. Tomorrow night.
    RACHEL: some guys have told me i do.
    CORT: some guys don’t have any bal s.
    RACHEL: Okaaaaaayyyy i won’t go there.
    CORT: tel me who carmel and brownie and sunshine are.
    NYCBabe16: never.
    CORT: do i have a code name?
    Rachel grinned.
     
    RACHEL: i’l think of one.
    CORT: but you won’t tel me, wil you?
    RACHEL: not on your life. let’s see…puppy eyes…fast fingers…
    CORT: FAST FINGERS?
    RACHEL: better forget that one.
    CORT: stud works
    RACHEL: u wish.
    CORT: guess i have to prove that, too.
    Rachel enjoyed a delicious shiver. There were lots of names she could cal a guy as perfectly packaged as Cort.
    Sizzlin’. Magic Hands. Magic Hands—she liked it. Heat flushed in her hands as if he’d just touched them, like when he so gently massaged her fingers.
    RACHEL: i just thought of your name.
    CORT: uh-oh. what?
    RACHEL: i told u u’l never know.
    CORT: what’s fair is fair. i’m naming you then.
    RACHEL: go ahead.
    What kind of name would he choose? How did he see her?
    RACHEL: OK. i may give in. if u tel me, i’l tel u CORT: i knew u’d want 2 know.
    RACHEL: i just want to see what u’d come up with, that’s al .
    CORT: deal?
    RACHEL: i’d better go. dad’s on the phone and i want to talk to him.
    CORT: OK.
    RACHEL: what are you going to do now?
    CORT: lie in bed and think about what to name you.
    After they said goodbye, Rachel pictured him. Though she’d never set foot in his house, didn’t even know where he lived, her imagination easily conjured up the scene of him in long, plaid flannel pajama pants and no shirt. That ripped bod gorgeously splayed with one arm over his head, muscles flexed while he was hard at work, thinking.
    Rachel turned off her computer glad things between them were on a better wave. In spite of her resolve, she wanted something with Cort, even if it was only for him to continue on this crazy quest to prove to her he was solid—not jel y, like most jocks.
    It would be cool if something more happened between them. It would rock everything if one day he kissed her. Her first kiss—more than a casual greeting. That’s what she’d think about tonight.
    Right after she talked to her dad.

ELEVEN
    Because he was starving and hadn’t been duped into eating the tofu benedict his mother had prepared for him and Lizzie that morning, the haunting scent of coffee pul ed Cort into Minerva’s.
    Poor Lizzie, he thought with a moment’s amusement. At least he had the excuse of a job to get him out of the house.
    The bel over the door jingled when he entered. Half a dozen girls he recognized from school sat at green wrought iron cafe tables sipping steamers.
    Minerva smiled from behind the counter. “Hey, Cort.
    What can I get you?”
    He greeted the girls, feeling like a bug under a microscope as he crossed to the counter. “A Min’s Special.”
    “With whipped cream?”
    “That’d be great.” He glanced around, nodding casual y at the girls stil watching him. “You’re busy,” he said to Minerva.
    “Thanks to you.” She fil ed a Styrofoam cup with the rich, dark chocolate—her special recipe. “To go, right?”
    He nodded.
    “They’re al waiting for Miss Chachi’s to open.” She sprayed on a generous mound of cream, sprinkled it with cinnamon.
    “They are?” He paid her and took the cup.
    “Ever since you started work it’s been great.”
    “Wow.” He sipped, and scorched his upper lip.
    “That’s hot,” she warned him. “I guess Miss