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His clothes were wet, but his face and hands were flushed and he made no effort to dry off. |
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"I come from pioneer stock." |
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"Oh? Family came over on the Mayflower?" |
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"That's the Pilgrims. The blood of Dan'l Boone and Davy Crockett runs in these veins." |
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Kyna chuckled and shook her head. "More like the blood of a used-car salesman." He looked aghast. "Seriously, don't you want to change?" |
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Cyrus glanced at her in alarm, but then he realized what she meant and said, "Oh! You mean my clothes?" |
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"Of course, silly. What else?" |
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What else indeed? he thought. "No, I'm okay." |
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"This weather really doesn't bother you?" |
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He tossed his shaving kit in his overnight bag. "Not so much anymore." |
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After a breakfast of French toast, sausage and hash browns, Cyrus had to endure a hundred miles of teasing as they followed the highway down the California coast. |
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"This morning you go out after ice in nothing but a towel and lock yourself out. Yesterday, you managed to let a couple of bozos rip your clothes off. Russ, is there any chance that you're a closet streaker?" |
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A few hours' rest seemed to have restored Kyna to her usual sarcastic and feisty self. She had put on a tiny bit of lip gloss and attacked her hair with a hairbrush until it sparkled like fire on ice. The cold air had brought the color back to her cheeks and a single look from those gorgeous green eyes was enough to steal his breath away. Oddly enough, he felt pretty chipper himself. After his nocturnal romp in the woods he had expected to be exhaustedsleepy at leastbut he couldn't recall ever feeling better. It was an anomaly that he decided to enjoy while it lasted and ponder over later. |
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On the way south they talked about tennis, shopping and moviesthe ones they liked and the ones they didn't. Anything to keep from talking about what had happened at the penthouse the day before. Yet in spite of their best efforts to |
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