“No,” he replied.

“Coffee?” Mom went on.

“No,” he said.

“Tea?” she continued in dogged pursuit of being both a Mom and a good hostess, even though it wasn’t her house.

She was now sounding slightly surprised at the idea that Luke drank something as un-macho as tea (like he’d drink cocoa).

“No,” Luke repeated.

“Oh, I know. A beer?”

He shook his head.

I cut in. “Jeez, Mom. He doesn’t want anything. Leave him alone.”

“Roxie, don’t be rude,” Mom told me. Then a buzzer went off. “I know what he’l want!” she shouted and she whirled, threw on a (new) oven mitt, opened the oven and took out a cookie tray. “Right here, hot and good. Fresh roasted pumpkin seeds. Come and get ‘em.”

I looked at Mom as she shook the seeds on the tray to Luke and me.

I ignored the seeds.

So did Luke.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

“Negotiating with the log man. They say they don’t do deliveries. Your father intends on getting those logs delivered. He brought me home and went back. He’l be here in time to get ready.”

Dad thought he could negotiate anything with just a hint of good ole boy charm and a few off-color jokes. Most of the time, he wasn’t wrong. I suspected the logs would be delivered tomorrow.

I threw off thoughts of logs.

Instead, I focused on getting ready. Getting ready sounded like a good idea, it meant escape and escape was good.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I announced and made to move away.

Luke’s hand curled into my waistband again. He pul ed me deeper into him and his mouth came to my ear.

“Leave me with her, I wil shoot you,” he whispered in my ear.

I looked over my shoulder at him and realized how close we were as his face was less than an inch from mine. I stepped forward and his hand dropped away.

Mom, undeterred by us ignoring her offering, tilted the seeds into a waiting bowl and walked them to the coffee table. Once she set down the bowl, she started to gather up bags.

“Luke, be a sweetheart and get rid of these,” she said, shoving them into his arms and starting away before she realized he hadn’t actual y taken them.

I caught them before they fel to the floor and turned to Mom.

“Mom, I don’t mean to alarm you but Luke’s here to protect me, so you have to leave him alone so he can do…

whatever it is he does. What he doesn’t do is clean up, drink cocoa or chitchat. Okay?”

Mom slowly turned and looked at Luke with rounded eyes, then she nodded.

I twisted and said to Luke, “Come with me.” I shoved the bags in Mom’s arms, gave her a peck on the cheek then walked by her, through the kitchen and into Hank’s room.

Luke fol owed.

So did Shamus.

I closed the door and turned to him.

“I’m going to take a shower. You’re going to be good, try not to be sexy or freak me out or anything like that. I’ve got to concentrate, preparing for a formal party is serious business. I don’t need distractions.”

His eyes went half-mast and his half-grin appeared.

“You’re doing it!” I accused.

His eyebrows went up.

I shook my head. “Never mind.”

Then I stomped to the shower.

* * * * *

Over an hour later, there was a knock on the bathroom door. I’d had my shower, done my formal party makeup and was putting the finishing touches on my hair (loads of soft twists and up in a messy knot). I was wearing Hank’s bathrobe. My dress, undies, jewelry, purse and shoes had been gathered and were al lying on the bed next to Luke (wel , my undies were hidden under the dress, Luke didn’t need to get any ideas).

Luke seemed to have no problem slipping into a Luke Zen Zone, lying stretched on Hank’s bed, Shamus at his side, eyes closed, saying nothing but seeming total y alert.

I opened the door, expecting it to be Luke.

It wasn’t Luke. It was Hank.

Shit.

Before he could open his mouth, I said, “I’m sorry about your house.”

“Roxie –”

“I should have cal ed to warn you but I’m running late getting ready.”

“Roxie –”

“She’s doing it to be nice, to say thank you for al you’ve done.”

“Roxanne, let me –”

“She can be a little overpowering, I know, but I swear it isn’t normal y this bad. I think she’s worried about me but doesn’t want to say.”

“Roxanne –”

“We can move the stuff she bought to my new apartment when I find one and I’l get rid of the stuff at the front stoop the minute they leave.”

His hands shot out and grabbed me at the waist. He yanked me to him and his mouth came down on mine.

Then he kissed me deep.

When he lifted his head I was dizzy and had forgotten my place in my jabbering apologetic explanation of Mom’s craziness.

“What was that for?” I asked.

“To shut you up. You wouldn’t stop talking.”

“Oh.”

I probably should have been angry but I wasn’t. He was a good kisser and if I had to be shut up, that was a damn fine way to do it.

“I don’t mind about the house, it looks nice,” he told me.

“Okay.”

“And I don’t mind your parents. They’re interesting and they care about you.”

“Okay.”

“And we’l talk about your apartment later.” I blinked. “What?”

He shifted me to the side and moved into the bathroom.

“Are you done in the bathroom? I need to shower.” He bent over and pul ed off a boot, then twisted to throw it in the bedroom.

I watched it go, moving my body as the boot sailed by me. When I turned back, he did the same with the other boot.

“What about my apartment?” I asked.

“We’l talk about it later,” he replied.

He started to pul off his sweater but I grabbed his arms and stopped him.

He looked at me.

I felt something strange and unpleasant crawl along my skin.

“Don’t you want me to move to Denver?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah, I want you to move to Denver.”

I blinked at him again, confused. “Then, what about my apartment?” I repeated my question.

“Roxanne, we’l talk about it later.”

Then, it hit me. “As in, we’l have a ‘conversation’?” I asked, thinking about what Jet said earlier about Eddie’s chats and the fact that she’d moved in with him, making them the fastest relationship in history.