shrugged. “At any rate, this is the best assignment I've ever had. If he would grant me an interview, just think— ”
“He's not an assignment.”
Zanita looked at her. “Well, no, not exactly …”
“What makes you think he'll give you an interview when he's turned down everyone else? No offense, Zanita, but you're not exactly Edward R. Murrow, or even Barbara Walters, or for that matter Yolanda Neade.” Yolanda Neade was a ditsy local newscaster on a non-network-affiliated television station. Mills wasn't pulling any punches.
“This is true, but I have something they don't have.”
Mills looked at her friend askance. “What, pray tell, is that?”
Zanita batted her eyelashes. “I am non-linear. “
“Say what?”
“I have no idea, either, but Doc Evans seemed very interested in it.”
Mills snorted. “Uh-huh. As Whoopi said, 'Girl, you in danger'.”
Zanita grinned. “I wish. Believe me, the man is odd. Gorgeous, but odd. The most I can hope for is an interview with him. And I would be more than satisfied with that.”
“Satisfied is the operative word here. Maybe he's the one.”
Zanita swallowed a cashew. “The one what?”
“To befuddle you.”
“Befuddle me as in make me crazy, roll around in the hay, knock my socks off, befuddle?” Mills nodded lecherously. “Tyber? I don't think so. I mean, he does have a body that won't quit, and he is sexy beyond words, but …”
“But?”
“He's … a kook.”
Mills raised an eyebrow as if to say, When has this little aberration ever stopped a hot-blooded man?
“No. No, believe me, you have this all wrong. I'm sure he would never notice me in that way. He probably isn't interested in such base interactions, being so … so intellectually lofty.”
“Right.”
“Seriously. He might see me as interesting in some bizarre way known only to him.” She thought of his expression and the tone of his voice when he had told her he was going to follow up on her idea, whatever that had been. “But only because he thinks he can teach me to understand what he's talking about.”
Mills choked on her tea. “Zanita! I have no idea what you are saying! Do you?”
“Well, no. But don't blame me— it's Tyber's doing. No one could possibly understand a thing he says.” She sighed. “This is not going to be a piece of cake.”
***
As if her words were an omen, when she walked into the fast-food restaurant, Tyber was wolfing down a piece of cake a little girl had handed him. He looked up as she approached the tables where several men from the class, including Stan, were eating hamburgers and fries.
The past twenty-four hours had, if anything, enhanced his appeal. He was just as sexy as she remembered.
There was something about the man that invited touching.
His incredible pecs couched inside the soft cotton of his casual shirt, perhaps? His strong column of toasty warm throat? The boyishly intriguing dimples in his mischievous smile? The incredible intelligence behind his eyes?
It struck her anew how very different he was— not what one would expect at all.
“Hi. Want a sip?” He held out his chocolate shake to her. She eyed the drink dubiously, remembering the pasty taste from her high school years all too well.
“No, thank you. Who's the kid?”
Tyber shrugged. “It's her birthday. She gave us all a piece of her cake. Whether we wanted it or not.” He winked at her. “Fortunately, I'm a sucker for frosting.” He licked a dollop off his finger.
It was an innocent gesture on his part, but for some reason Zanita couldn't take her eyes off that tongue slowly swirling around the edge of his long, beautifully tapered finger. The gesture so fascinated her that she stood riveted, watching him.
“I did promise you I'd be honest tonight.”
“Wh-what?” Her face rose guiltily to his.
“The lecture.” His eyes sparked expressively in his incredibly handsome face. “I think after tonight I'll have you
“He's not an assignment.”
Zanita looked at her. “Well, no, not exactly …”
“What makes you think he'll give you an interview when he's turned down everyone else? No offense, Zanita, but you're not exactly Edward R. Murrow, or even Barbara Walters, or for that matter Yolanda Neade.” Yolanda Neade was a ditsy local newscaster on a non-network-affiliated television station. Mills wasn't pulling any punches.
“This is true, but I have something they don't have.”
Mills looked at her friend askance. “What, pray tell, is that?”
Zanita batted her eyelashes. “I am non-linear. “
“Say what?”
“I have no idea, either, but Doc Evans seemed very interested in it.”
Mills snorted. “Uh-huh. As Whoopi said, 'Girl, you in danger'.”
Zanita grinned. “I wish. Believe me, the man is odd. Gorgeous, but odd. The most I can hope for is an interview with him. And I would be more than satisfied with that.”
“Satisfied is the operative word here. Maybe he's the one.”
Zanita swallowed a cashew. “The one what?”
“To befuddle you.”
“Befuddle me as in make me crazy, roll around in the hay, knock my socks off, befuddle?” Mills nodded lecherously. “Tyber? I don't think so. I mean, he does have a body that won't quit, and he is sexy beyond words, but …”
“But?”
“He's … a kook.”
Mills raised an eyebrow as if to say, When has this little aberration ever stopped a hot-blooded man?
“No. No, believe me, you have this all wrong. I'm sure he would never notice me in that way. He probably isn't interested in such base interactions, being so … so intellectually lofty.”
“Right.”
“Seriously. He might see me as interesting in some bizarre way known only to him.” She thought of his expression and the tone of his voice when he had told her he was going to follow up on her idea, whatever that had been. “But only because he thinks he can teach me to understand what he's talking about.”
Mills choked on her tea. “Zanita! I have no idea what you are saying! Do you?”
“Well, no. But don't blame me— it's Tyber's doing. No one could possibly understand a thing he says.” She sighed. “This is not going to be a piece of cake.”
***
As if her words were an omen, when she walked into the fast-food restaurant, Tyber was wolfing down a piece of cake a little girl had handed him. He looked up as she approached the tables where several men from the class, including Stan, were eating hamburgers and fries.
The past twenty-four hours had, if anything, enhanced his appeal. He was just as sexy as she remembered.
There was something about the man that invited touching.
His incredible pecs couched inside the soft cotton of his casual shirt, perhaps? His strong column of toasty warm throat? The boyishly intriguing dimples in his mischievous smile? The incredible intelligence behind his eyes?
It struck her anew how very different he was— not what one would expect at all.
“Hi. Want a sip?” He held out his chocolate shake to her. She eyed the drink dubiously, remembering the pasty taste from her high school years all too well.
“No, thank you. Who's the kid?”
Tyber shrugged. “It's her birthday. She gave us all a piece of her cake. Whether we wanted it or not.” He winked at her. “Fortunately, I'm a sucker for frosting.” He licked a dollop off his finger.
It was an innocent gesture on his part, but for some reason Zanita couldn't take her eyes off that tongue slowly swirling around the edge of his long, beautifully tapered finger. The gesture so fascinated her that she stood riveted, watching him.
“I did promise you I'd be honest tonight.”
“Wh-what?” Her face rose guiltily to his.
“The lecture.” His eyes sparked expressively in his incredibly handsome face. “I think after tonight I'll have you
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