“The act of sex is a normal physical function, and a pleasant experience.”
“So far, we’re on the same page.”
She took out her keys, unlocked the door. Once inside, she reset the alarm. “It may be you find me physically attractive on some level.”
“All of them, actually.”
“And that may be the reason you came here, with wine. I’ll have a glass of wine with you, but I won’t have sex with you.”
“Okay.” Absolutely delighted with her, he followed her to the kitchen. “Any particular reason why not, other than the fact that we haven’t even shared huckleberry pie yet?”
“You ask too many questions. Answering them is annoying and tiresome.”
“Damn that curiosity. Jesus, Abigail, did you smile?”
“It was probably a grimace.”
“Now you made a joke. Any minute you’re going to put on a party hat and dance on the table.”
“You’re funny. I’m not, so I can appreciate someone with natural humor.” She took off the jacket, opened a door to what he assumed was a small utility room and hung it on a peg. “And you’re physically attractive and fit. I prefer having sex with someone who keeps physically fit.”
She got out a corkscrew, and though he would have taken it, opened the wine for her, she set about doing so briskly and efficiently.
What the hell, he thought, and sat. “So far the only strike against me is curiosity?”
“There are others. Proximity, for one, which would make it awkward and problematic when I no longer want to have sex with you.”
“What makes you think you’re going to want to stop having sex with me?”
She got out two glasses, two small plates, two forks. “The law of averages.”
“Oh, that. I defy the law of averages.”
“A lot of people believe they do. They don’t.” She poured the wine, studying him as she offered a glass. “I like your nose.”
“Abigail, you fucking fascinate me. Why do you like my nose?”
“It’s been broken at some point. The lack of symmetry adds character and interest to your face. I like character.”
“And still, no sex for me.”
She smiled again, fully this time. “I’m sure you have other options.”
“That’s true. I make them take numbers, like at a deli.” He waited until she got out the pie, uncovered it. “Do you want to know why I’m not going to have sex with you?”
He’d surprised her, he noted. Stirred her curiosity. “Yes, I would.”
“You’re attractive, and you look pretty…physically fit to me. You’ve got a way of looking at me that feels likeyou’re looking right through to the back of my brain. I don’t know why that’s sexy, but it is. You need help.”
“I don’t want any help.”
“I didn’t say anything about want. You need help, and I’ve got a weakness for people who need help. I like your dog even though I figure he’s as dangerous, or damn near, as that Glock on your hip. I like the way you talk, like you’re just a little rusty at it. I’d like to feel the shape of your mouth under mine. I’d like that more than I’d considered. But.”
On an exaggerated sigh, he lifted his hands, let them fall. “I’m always going to have questions. So that’s a problem. And while I’m a man, so I’m fairly up for sex if a woman sneezes in my direction, I generally like to get to know her first. Dinner, conversation, that sort of thing.”
“A date. I don’t go on dates.”
“You know, hearing you say that doesn’t surprise me. Now, we’ve shared an activity, shooting at targets. We’ve shared conversations and viewpoints. Now we’re sharing wine and pie. If I stretch that, I could ease it over the line into a date.”
