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

out; they got out. When a Hog had mayhem on its mind, there was

little a human could do.

So now, she ruminated facetiously, she was just grist for the Hog mill. Deciding

that some fresh air might revive her, she walked outside to the front of the

theater. It wasn't long before she saw Tyber pulling into the lot on the back of

a Harley-Davidson. Somehow she was not surprised.

He slung his helmet over the bars, spotting her at once. Smiling a greeting, he

walked her way, looking altogether too sensuous and sinewy. He wore black,

thigh-hugging jeans with black boots. A gray shirt and cuffs turned back on his

forearms completed the dangerous look. His long hair was tied back, once again,

in a ponytail. She wondered what it would look like loose about his shoulders,

silently thanking him for not putting her through that torture.

"Waiting for me?" He greeted her with a grin.

Unashamedly arrogant. "Getting some air. Everyone's waiting for you inside."

He nodded, steering her through the door. "I have a confession to make—I really

wanted to see this picture, and I hate going to the movies alone."

"So you engineered it so the whole class would accompany you? Talk about abuse

of power…."

"Afraid so. I'll tell you what—to make it up to you, I'll buy your ticket. But

you have to buy the popcorn."

"What kind of a deal is that? The popcorn in this place is more than my rent."

"I never said I was stupid." He winked at her, revealing that engaging dimple.

After greeting the class and telling them to meet after the movie in the mall

court, he drew her determinedly over to the refreshment stand.

"A jumbo deluxe popcorn," he told the girl behind the counter.

"Thanks a lot! Why don't you get Stan to buy your popcorn for you? I'm sure he'd

be more than willing."

He considered her question for a moment. "Because Stan doesn't have legs like

yours."

That shut her up. He had noticed. "You shouldn't talk to your students like

that."

He threw her a look. "You're not a student, and this is not a classroom. It's a

seminar—for colleagues." He fished his wallet out of his back pocket to pay the

girl.

"I am not a colleague of yours, and I said I would pay for that."

"I'm aware of that. As for the popcorn—I was joking."

"But—"

"Let's go see the movie."

As he led her to their seats, she got the uncomfortable feeling that she had

somehow been maneuvered into a date without ever agreeing to one, or for that

matter being asked to one. The sneaking suspicion crossed her mind that Tyber

could have manipulated the entire class just for that purpose. But that was

absurd. Why would he do such a thing?

She felt an elbow nudge her side.

"You're falling asleep again, Ms. Masterson. I don't mind, but the two rows

behind us are complaining about your snores."

"I don't snore." She mumbled, falling into a doze again.

Jab.

"Will you quit it?"

"Why are you so tired?" he whispered low in her ear, sending a frisson down her

bare neck. "Is my company that boring?" His heated breath teased against her.

"No, it's The Hogs," she murmured sleepily, turning unconsciously toward his

warmth.

He was amused by both her response and her action; she was just short of

snuggling into him. He casually put his arm around her, drawing her closer,

pitching his voice low. "I beg your pardon?"

"The Hogs were on the prowl last night—God, you smell good." She promptly fell

back asleep.

Hogs? What hogs? He looked askance at the sleeping bundle of woman in his arms.

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought. And soft. Definitely soft.

He decided he liked the feel of her sleeping in his arms.

She awoke toward the end of the movie, mortified to find herself burrowed into

Tyber's chest. Worse yet, she had managed to fit her head into the crook of his

neck, her forehead flush against the warm skin of his throat. His chin was

resting on the top of her head as he watched the movie; his arm was casually

draped across her shoulders.

This was so unprofessional of her! Thank God the rest of the group were

scattered throughout the darkened theater. Hopefully, they were too engaged in

the movie to pay any attention to the two of them.

Damn! How could she ever expect the man to take her seriously now? He'd never

give her the interview she wanted. And how did one extricate oneself from such a

position gracefully?

Tyber's hand slowly rubbed her back, causing her to instantly stiffen.

"I know you're awake," he said into her hair.

"Can we pretend I didn't do this?" she asked in a small voice against his chest.

"Of course not." His husky tone held more than a hint of amusement.

Zanita quickly disengaged herself, affronted. "That's not very chivalrous of

you."

Tyber did not seem particularly concerned about chivalry. "Do you often fall

asleep in a public place in the arms of the person next to you?"

Before she could summon up a suitable retort, he grinned wickedly at her. "You

talk in your sleep."

Zanita flushed, opened her mouth like a fish, then closed it. What had she said?

Oh, God. Would he even tell her? Those damn Hogs!

She wisely stayed silent until the end of the picture, sitting ramrod straight

in her chair, trying desperately not to look embarrassed.

When the movie ended Tyber took her hand as if he had every right to, leading

her out to the mall court.

"Relax, Curls, you didn't say anything too revealing." He scratched his chin in

thought. "Except for the part about the sexual aids hidden in a shoebox under

your bed."

She stopped and stared at him, horrified.

He laughed out loud. "It was just a lucky guess, really."

She tried to tug her hand away from him; he held firm.

"I have no such thing! You're terrible—"

"That's not what you said in your sleep," he teased.

She blushed crimson. Considering her shameless thoughts about him, she might

have said anything. Anything at all. She ran her fingers through her hair in a

nervous gesture. Forget the interview; this was too embarrassing to be endured.

What must the man think of her?

"L-Look,Tyber, I really have to get going; it's late."

"Oh, no you don't." He laced his fingers through hers. "You're not running away.

You tried that once before with