things. First, the way you react to a man."
"What do you mean by that?" She sounded both defensive and startled.
He snorted again. "When I started taking off my clothes, you looked as if you'd swallowed a jalapeno pepper. It was obvious that you weren't used to seeing a man in his shorts— to say nothing of in the buff. Therefore, it stands to reason you're not married."
"Maybe I'm just not used to seeing a man other than my husband undressing," Lora said stiffly, feeling heat creep up her neck to her cheeks and ears and beyond.
He merely raised his eyebrows at her skeptically. "Want to hear what else makes me think you're not a loving wife and mother?"
"No!"
"No stretch marks," he said succinctly.
Lora's eyes widened, and she felt another wave of embarrassed heat wash up her neck as she remembered that he was certainly in a position to know. He had seen every inch of her skin.
"Not all women get them, you know."
"Most do. Almost all when they're as fair as you. But there's not a mark on your skin. It's smooth as a baby's."
"So maybe I'm one of the lucky ones."
"And maybe you're not. Come on, come clean. Who do the cute little girls belong to?"
"They're my nieces," Lora said, giving up. For some strange reason, she was not altogether sorry that her make-believe family was being laid to rest. She didn't like telling lies, and she wasn't particularly good at it, as this denouncement proved. And there was another reason, one that occurred to her to be immediately vanquished: she didn't like the idea of this man, whose body wildly excited her despite every grain of sense she possessed, believing that she was married and a mother. Just why that was, she refused to speculate.
"And the math teacher? Is there a math teacher?"
"My fiance."
"Do you sleep with him?" The question was so deceptively casual that it took a moment to sink in.
"That's none of your business," Lora yelped.
"Suppose I make it my business?" he asked with an exaggerated leer that made Lora want to grind her teeth. When he wasn't scaring her to death, he was totally outrageous, totally infuriating…
She was on the verge of losing her temper, Lora realized with surprise. And she never lost her temper. Not anymore. Not since Janice had grown up and left home and stopped stealing her clothes, her cosmetics, and her boyfriends. Janice said that those few occasions in their childhood were the only times she had ever heard her inhibited little sister really yelling, and Lora supposed Janice was right. She was a rather low-key person, now that she thought about it. Maybe she should have her blood pressure tested or something. Maybe it wasn't high enough. She had read about people with that kind of problem…
"Christ, hit the brakes! Stop!"
She had been looking at him ruminatively. When he shouted, his eyes widening with alarm, she jumped. Instinctively, her eyes shot back to the road before her foot even began moving for the brake. What she saw sent her leg stomping frantically downward. A large brown cow stood placidly in the middle of the road not fifteen feet away, chewing her cud as she watched with disinterest as the orange Volkswagen rattled toward her. Lora gasped, her foot came down hard on the brake—and the car gasped too before hesitating briefly, belching, and bucking forward. The cow didn't budge.
"Christ, that was the clutch!" He was yelling in her ear. "Hit the goddamn brakes, woman!"
Lora tried again, and this time she got it right. The car squealed to a halt not more than two feet from the animal's sleek, brown hide. Lora sat with her hands curled tightly around the wheel, staring disbelievingly at the still chewing cow who was regarding them with mild interest through the windshield. Her captor let out his breath and reached over to slide the transmission into neutral.
"You have to be the worst damned driver I have ever seen in my entire life."
"I'd only driven automatics before yesterday."
"Good God in heaven." He shut his
"What do you mean by that?" She sounded both defensive and startled.
He snorted again. "When I started taking off my clothes, you looked as if you'd swallowed a jalapeno pepper. It was obvious that you weren't used to seeing a man in his shorts— to say nothing of in the buff. Therefore, it stands to reason you're not married."
"Maybe I'm just not used to seeing a man other than my husband undressing," Lora said stiffly, feeling heat creep up her neck to her cheeks and ears and beyond.
He merely raised his eyebrows at her skeptically. "Want to hear what else makes me think you're not a loving wife and mother?"
"No!"
"No stretch marks," he said succinctly.
Lora's eyes widened, and she felt another wave of embarrassed heat wash up her neck as she remembered that he was certainly in a position to know. He had seen every inch of her skin.
"Not all women get them, you know."
"Most do. Almost all when they're as fair as you. But there's not a mark on your skin. It's smooth as a baby's."
"So maybe I'm one of the lucky ones."
"And maybe you're not. Come on, come clean. Who do the cute little girls belong to?"
"They're my nieces," Lora said, giving up. For some strange reason, she was not altogether sorry that her make-believe family was being laid to rest. She didn't like telling lies, and she wasn't particularly good at it, as this denouncement proved. And there was another reason, one that occurred to her to be immediately vanquished: she didn't like the idea of this man, whose body wildly excited her despite every grain of sense she possessed, believing that she was married and a mother. Just why that was, she refused to speculate.
"And the math teacher? Is there a math teacher?"
"My fiance."
"Do you sleep with him?" The question was so deceptively casual that it took a moment to sink in.
"That's none of your business," Lora yelped.
"Suppose I make it my business?" he asked with an exaggerated leer that made Lora want to grind her teeth. When he wasn't scaring her to death, he was totally outrageous, totally infuriating…
She was on the verge of losing her temper, Lora realized with surprise. And she never lost her temper. Not anymore. Not since Janice had grown up and left home and stopped stealing her clothes, her cosmetics, and her boyfriends. Janice said that those few occasions in their childhood were the only times she had ever heard her inhibited little sister really yelling, and Lora supposed Janice was right. She was a rather low-key person, now that she thought about it. Maybe she should have her blood pressure tested or something. Maybe it wasn't high enough. She had read about people with that kind of problem…
"Christ, hit the brakes! Stop!"
She had been looking at him ruminatively. When he shouted, his eyes widening with alarm, she jumped. Instinctively, her eyes shot back to the road before her foot even began moving for the brake. What she saw sent her leg stomping frantically downward. A large brown cow stood placidly in the middle of the road not fifteen feet away, chewing her cud as she watched with disinterest as the orange Volkswagen rattled toward her. Lora gasped, her foot came down hard on the brake—and the car gasped too before hesitating briefly, belching, and bucking forward. The cow didn't budge.
"Christ, that was the clutch!" He was yelling in her ear. "Hit the goddamn brakes, woman!"
Lora tried again, and this time she got it right. The car squealed to a halt not more than two feet from the animal's sleek, brown hide. Lora sat with her hands curled tightly around the wheel, staring disbelievingly at the still chewing cow who was regarding them with mild interest through the windshield. Her captor let out his breath and reached over to slide the transmission into neutral.
"You have to be the worst damned driver I have ever seen in my entire life."
"I'd only driven automatics before yesterday."
"Good God in heaven." He shut his
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