High Energy, Joy, Dara [books to read this summer .txt] 📗

away; he pulled her back.

Bending low, he said firmly in her ear, "No interview. No more debris in my

pool."

Zanita swallowed convulsively at the heat of him behind her. She suddenly wanted

to rest her head back against his chest, feel those powerful arms come around

her…

She blinked. Bad enough she behaved foolishly just now. No need to compound her

error by throwing herself at the man.

What was wrong with her? She was usually a very cautious person when it came to

relationships with men. Hadn't Mills told her so? Not that she wanted a

relationship with him. He probably wouldn't be interested even if she did. And

what if she had truly pissed him off just now? How stupid can one person be?

After all, she was his guest.

His capable hands moved at her shoulders, massaging her tense muscles. The act

did not relax her.

"Did you notice the topiary labyrinth when you came in?" His low voice sent

shivers down her neck.

Still captured by his hands, she nodded her head warily.

"Good. I want you to know that the maze is extremely complex. To date, no one

has successfully navigated through it. Do you know why I built it?"

She shook her head, sending her curls bouncing.

"I built it as a foil to anyone foolish enough to seek an interview. Those

creatures eat little reporters like you for lunch."

Zanita gasped, her imagination running wild.

Tyber's answering chuckle was a strong, sexy laugh of male amusement. Was it her

imagination or did his lips just brush her hair?

She broke out of his hold, turning to face him.

"Really, Tyber, I just want—"

"No." He tapped her nose. "Now, would you like something to drink, Curls?"

Tyber was being difficult. But not impossible. She would have to bide her time

and try again in an hour or so. Smiling secretly, she accepted his offer of

refreshment.

Tyber handed her a frosty glass of lemonade from the outdoor bar, thinking she

had the look of his cat again. He knew the look well. She wasn't going to give

up.

He sighed.

How was he going to get her mind off that damn interview? As long as she thought

of him as a subject for her article, she wouldn't be seeing him as a person.

A person who was extremely attracted to her.

There was something about her that drew him like a magnetic force. From the

moment he spotted her sitting in that third-row seat in the lecture hall, he had

been captivated by her. He hadn't quite figured it out yet.

Despite his unorthodox persona, Tyber was not a man who leaped into idle

indulgences with women. Because of his secluded lifestyle and his penchant for

research, his experiences with women were usually based on a mutual interest in

scientific matters, or were the natural result of a deepening friendship.

His liaisons followed a pattern.

He always knew the woman on a professional basis first before engaging in a

friendly affair. These relationships had a tendency to last several months

before being mutually set aside. There was tenderness, decent sex, and a certain

camaraderie.

This one, however, was different.

For some reason, Zanita Masterson incited him.

She made him want her on a level he was unfamiliar with. There was an urgency in

the air when he was near her.

The sight and scent of her aroused deep, mysterious passions in him—passions he

ached to explore with the same thoroughness with which he explored his other

endeavors.

And it wasn't just the passion—though Lord knew, that was enough.

What captivated him as much as the physical pull was that he couldn't seem to

anticipate her. Zanita Masterson was a surprise in every way. He didn't

understand it, but he wasn't particularly concerned about it. He was confident

he would figure it out in time.

They sat in the sun slowly sipping their lemonades.

Zanita was careful to skirt the topic of the interview until she was ready to

pounce.

Tyber was careful to skirt the issue of his raging desire lest he pounce.

In their quest to avoid certain topics, they found to their surprise a wealth of

other subjects in which they shared similar viewpoints. They liked the same

movies. They loved trying out new restaurants. They itched to travel and

explore, knowing they had a nest at home, waiting. They were open to new ideas

and situations. They shared a love of art and antiques. And most important, they

had a similar sense of humor.

Zanita wondered how it was possible for her to have so much in common with a man

who was a genius.

Tyber calculated the odds of their being perfect together sexually as

exponentially high.

Their thoughts were interrupted by Blooey yelling at the top of his lungs. "Come

'ere, ye scalawag!"

Tyber and Zanita stared at each other silently.

A second later, the gate banged open and a streak of orange fur whizzed by, a

rack of lamb clamped firmly in its jaws.

Blooey followed hot on Hambone's tail, waving a kitchen cleaver. "He's got the

dinner, Captain!"

The cat jumped on top of the barbecue, zealously guarding his prize.

Zanita's hand covered her mouth, but it did little to hide the giggles she could

not suppress. Whoever heard of a cat making off with an entire rack of lamb?

Being chased by a little pirate sporting a cleaver? She broke into peals of

laughter.

Tyber turned to her, more than a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Never mind,

Blooey. We'll pull into Port KFC tonight. My old friend the Colonel has invited

us to dine."

Blooey beamed. "Ye think he'll be serving that fine chicken he does, sir?"

Tyber eyed the half-chewed rack of prime lamb wistfully, "There's a distinct

possibility, sailor."

The three of them piled into the front seat of Tyber's 1955 cherry-red pick-up

truck, affectionately known as "Big Red."

Zanita learned that he had restored the vehicle when he was still in high

school. First the house, now the truck. It seemed the man had a penchant for

bringing things back to life. Rather like Dr. Frankenstein, she mused.

When they stopped at a light, Tyber spoke low in her ear. "What are you laughing

at now? Don't you realize I arranged all of this just to impress you? I had to

promise Hambone a week's supply of filleted salmon. The cat's a tough

negotiator." Tyber pressed on the gas when the light changed.

"I wouldn't doubt that for a minute. Actually, the