“Oh!” Ace’s eyes widened dramatically,and he turned to regard Christian with mock interest. “You don’t say?”
Had Christian mentioned that Ace wasalsoas gay as a Sunday tea cake?
“Can we please stop talking about my…my…” For reasons Christian couldn’t explain, he was unable to spit out the word.
“Todger?” Ace supplied helpfully.
“Gentleman sausage?” Emily added, her tone full of devilment.
“Purple parsnip.” Acejoined her in laughing his bloody fool ass off. “Oh, if there’s one thing I can say about living in England for these last few weeks, it’s that I’ve learned so many interesting euphemisms for a man’s unit.”
“And last but not least,” Emily said with great enthusiasm, “Tallywhacker!”
“Haaaa!” Ace mimed wiping a tear from his eye.
“Tell me, Christian,” Emily mused, “why is it you Englishmenfeel the need to come up with silly names for your nether regions?”
“Becausecockandballsare quite boring, darling. And if there’s one thing we English loathe more than cold beer, it’s tedium.”
“Mmm,” she hummed. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. And it did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of his…tallywhacker.
She didn’t miss the insistent throb against her bottom, becauseshe caught her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced back at him. One cheeky eyebrow climbed up her forehead.
“Like I said before the peanut gallery decided to get in their two cents,” he informed her irritably, “don’t take it personally. You’re a woman with a small but rather plump bottom. I’m a red-blooded male with a sex organ that hasn’t received any attention in weeks.”
More likemonths—ever since Emily had arrived on the BKI scene—but who was counting?
“Ashy dick. That’s what I call it,” Ace said as Angel exited the small lane leading out of Port Isaac and merged onto a narrow country road. They would take the back roads to the airport in Newquay to avoid the myriad CCTV cameras located on the major motorways.
“I beg your pardon?” Christian blanched.
“As in,you haven’t gotten it wet in—”
“Never mind.” Christian was quick to cut Ace off. Was it him, or was the heater in the farm truck working overtime? Steam had formed on the window beside him. He couldn’t decide if it was a drop of rainwater or a bead of sweat that slid down his temple.
“Why hasn’t your…uh…sex organ”—Emily snorted—“gotten any attention in weeks?”
He frowned. “You’re notserious.”
“Sure I am.”
“I’ve been on this bloody assignment with you lot. And before we had to hole up in my uncle’s cottage, we were all living in a tiny London flat that wasn’t precisely conducive to bringing home birds.”
Not that he would have, even if he could have. He wasn’t opposed to casual sex. Preferred it, actually. But he drew the line at sleeping with one woman while fantasizingabout another. And ever since Emily had crashed into his life like a wrecking ball, he hadn’t fantasized about anyone else.
“Speaking of dicks,” Ace said.
“Must we circle back to that topic?” Angel piped up for the first time since they’d piled into the truck. “I would love to talk about something else. Anything else. How about we phone the pilot of the charter plane to tell him we arerunning a half hour late? Or how about we all simply sit here in silence? I would love that.Lord, how I would love that.”
Every person in the truck was stunned into silence. For long moments, the only sounds in the cab were thewhirof the tires over the blacktop and the rhythmicwhip-whop-whip-whopof the windscreen wipers working overtime.
Naturally, Emily was the first to find hervoice. “Holy hell. I think that’s more words than I’ve heard you speak the entire time I’ve known you, Angel.”
“That’s more words than I’ve heard him speak the entire timeI’veknown him,” Ace said.
Rusty’s addition to the conversation was, “I wasn’t convinced he actuallyknewthat many words.”
Christian agreed with all of them, but he kept his mouth shut, reveling that the topicof conversation having moved on from the subject of his wedding tackle. Then Emily started squirming again.
