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A Taste Of Temptation
He withdrew. “I’ll think about it.”
Zoe spoke to the dog. “He says he’ll think about it.” She put Connie down, and the animal trotted over to sniff Donovan’s feet. “Do you ever do anything without thinking about it first?”
He wriggled his toes. “I suppose not.”
“Like grabbing a girl and kissing her?”
“What?” She’d startled him again. Had she been reading his mind? “Who? You?”
Her arms windmilled. “Anyone. Me, if you must.”
His arms were leaden. He couldn’t lift them. “That wouldn’t be an impulse. I’ve thought about it too much.”
“Logic rears its nitpicking head.” Not at all put off by his confession, Zoe glanced around. His living room was furnished in a midcentury modern style of low couches and drum lampshades. He supposed all those rerun episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show and Leave It to Beaver that his mother used to watch in the afternoons had had an unconscious influence on him when he’d gone to the furniture store.
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