Page 68 of Truly, Madly Viking

Maggie had trouble accepting the fact that the man had telepathic talks with a whale. But then, she'd had trouble accepting him as a time traveler, too. That was an issue she hadn't yet discussed with him. She told herself she was avoiding the conversation till Joe was well, but deep inside, she was afraid that, if she spoke the words aloud, she would have to accept that they were really true. "Did you hear me? Stop at McDonald's."

"No!" she exclaimed much too loudly. The man was driving her batty with his constant requests... and questions—oh, yes, especially the questions. He was like a toddler who'd just learned to talk and couldn't stop jabbering.

His monologues usually went like this: "Drive me to the bay. Buy me some beer. What's a condom? Oh.

Well, buy me some of those... several dozen, at least. No? Then sell my arm ring so I can have money of my own; I'll buy the damn condoms myself. Where's the TV Guide? Why can't I watch you shave your legs? What's wrong with practicing my swordplay in the living room... with Rita? Now, if I were practicing the trick my uncle, King Olaf, taught me, where I play with three swords at once, with one of them always being in the air... then you might have cause for concern. What's a thong? No, I did not lock Rita in the bathing room... really. Sit down and watch TV with me. It does not make you braindead. Is oral sex what I think it is? How do they get toilet paper on the roll? I'm randier than a goat. When are you going to make love with me?"

The last had become a continuing refrain, ever since he'd started to feel better. Most ridiculous of all his statements had been, "I would probably recuperate more quickly with a good swiving or two."

"You're too sick," she had told him.

"Then oral-sex me." The man was impossible. But that was then. Now his fixation was on food.

"Why can't we stop at McDonald's? The girls would be happy to have such provender." During the past two weeks of Joe's recuperation, he had somehow discovered Big Macs and french fries, for which he'd developed a passion. Even Beth, who was not normally a meat eater, had become addicted to the junk food, especially chicken nuggets.

"We're going to have dinner at home. It's important that my girls and I sit down at the table together for a home-cooked meal... at least occasionally."

He groaned. "We're not going to have that tough-you again, are we? It makes my stomach cramp. I do not want to hurt your feelings, dearling, but that stuff is worse than jail-low." Maggie could feel herself go dreamy-eyed every time he used the term dearling, and she suspected that he tossed it into conversations fairly often for just that purpose.

"It's tofu, and it's good for you."

"Bedplay is good for me, too, and I don't see you passing any of that about. I don't suppose"— he flashed her one of his devastating grins, the kind that he probably knew made her insides melt—"that you would come to my bed tonight and demonstrate thongs for me?" So, he had known what thongs were, after all. The lout! "Not a chance!"

He made a low sound of disgust and sank down in his seat so his head was resting on the seat back and his knees were raised in the cramped space.

"Besides, I need to talk with you, seriously," she said, further explaining her refusal to stop at the restaurant. "Since the girls will be late tonight— they have choir practice—I wanted some time alone with you."

"Alone?" He straightened and his face brightened with hope.

She shook her head at his persistence. "To talk."

He slumped again. "Serious talk?"

"Very serious."

"I'm not going to give you my sword."

"It's not that."

"I won't marry you."

She stiffened with insult, and the brute didn't even have the sense to know he'd offended her.

"Who asked you?"

"Females need forewarning about such things." Oooh! The man could make her go from happy to mad in two seconds flat. She clenched the steering wheel and refused to rise to his bait.

Then he turned his head to the side, still resting on the headrest, and winked at her.

Maggie's hormones kicked up a notch with just that wink. She pulled her car into the driveway and turned off the ignition. Only then did she tell him, "You are too good-looking for your own good, do you know that?"

"I know," he said, and dazzled her with another of his grins. They both unbuckled their seat belts but had yet to open their car doors. Out of the blue, he stated flatly, "You want me."

"Yep."

"But you are going to continue restraining those base impulses?"

"Yep."