“Amusing,” he said in a way that let her know it was not. “As for your last statement about you being in no danger of falling in love with me, well, that struck me as kinda worrisome. I mean it could easily go the other way. You understand what I’m saying?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I’m trying to figure out what happens if I fall in love with you.”
The arch in Laurel’s eyebrow defined cynical. “Have you?” she asked coolly.
A glimmer of a smile touched Call’s lips. “Butter doesn’t much melt in your mouth, does it?”
“Not much.” Laurel was careful to keep her eyes on his and not glance at his smile. That smile stirred her heart in ways that could not possibly be good. “Well, have you?” she asked, repeating her question.
“No,” he said, sobering. His smile was a shadow now. “I haven’t fallen yet. Tripped some and caught myself before I went head over bucket, but the danger’s there. Do you have any ideas about what I should do if it happens? I’m thinking you wouldn’t like it.”
Laurel didn’t know if she’d like it or not. She said the first thing that came to her mind. “It would complicate matters.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“You’ve been in love before. What did you do then?”
“What makes you think I’ve been in love? Have you?”
Laurel blinked. She wasn’t prepared to have the question put to her. “No,” she said finally, “but then I’m not—”
Call waited for her to finish her thought, but she shook her head and pressed her lips together. Curious, he prompted gently, “You’re not what?”
“You know.” She quickly shook her head, remembering what he’d told her about not being in the habit of asking questions he knew the answer to. “I’m sorry. I reckon I meant youshouldknow. You’re the one who made sure I was aware of your experience.”
“All right,” he said. “What is it about you that I should know? What is it that you’re not?”
Laurel realized he had the bit between his teeth and wasn’t going to let go. “I’m not pretty like you. I don’t attract bees to my blossom the way you do.”
Call sat up. “Wait a minute. Did you just say I was pretty and compare me to a flower?”
“Yeah. I guess I did.”
“Huh.” He regarded her with interest. “You think I’m pretty?”
Laurel’s regard was shrewd. “You know you are.”
He shrugged. “What kind of flower?”
She was certain he was enjoying himself just a little too much. She made a pinching motion with her thumb and fingers. “A snapdragon.”
“Oh. Something manly, then.”
Laurel threw up her hands.
“Are you surrendering?” he asked.
“No. I’m exasperated because you are exasperating.”
“No more than you are,” he said seriously. “How do you come by the ridiculous notion that I’m prettier than you and that bees don’t circle your...” He gave her breasts a rakish leer. “Your, um, blossoms? If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were fishing for a compliment, but I’m afraid you believe every word you said.”
“I’m not fishing.”
“I just said you weren’t, didn’t I?” Call’s lower lip thrust forward as he blew out a breath. “Shall I tell you what I think?”
“Could I stop you?”
