High Energy by Joy, Dara (easy to read books for adults list .TXT) 📕

me, and it didn't work."

"Please, Doctor Evans… this is so embarrassing."

"You do seem to have a penchant for getting yourself into situations." He smiled

remorselessly at her while maintaining his firm hold on her hand.

"I do not!" His disbelieving look compelled a modicum of honesty. "Okay; so

sometimes I get myself into sticky—what did I say to you?" she demanded.

"You didn't say all that much in your sleep, Zanita." He thought it tactful to

leave out her comment about how good he smelled. "Although I have to ask myself

why you're so nervous about what you think you might have said."

"You rat!" She blurted out before thinking. "You let me think I—" She stopped

abruptly, realizing what she had almost revealed.

"You were about to say?" He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

That you're gorgeous beyond words and I was wondering if you were as sexy in bed

as you look. "You let me think that I might have revealed confidences entrusted

to me by my friends," she prevaricated.

"Your nose is growing. However, I apologize if I've embarrassed you in any way."

His voice was overly sincere. "Let me buy you an ice cream cone so we can be

friends again."

"You may buy me an ice cream cone, but we are not exactly friends."

"Nonsense; you've slept in my arms, Curls. What flavor would you like?"

"Monkey crunch and stop calling me by that ridiculous name."

His gaze traveled assessingly over her short black hair. "Oh, I don't know—it

seems to fit." He ordered their cones, his eyes twinkling at her as if he were

just waiting for her to snap back at him.

Was he purposely irritating her just to irritate her?

She was about to let him have it with both barrels when the rest of the group

caught up with him. "Saved by the cavalry." Her tongue swirled around the ice

cream as if to punctuate her statement.

"Lucky me," he murmured. "Can I taste?" He didn't wait for her answer, leaning

down to take a lick of her ice cream.

While his attention was focused on the cone in her hand, his head was on a level

with hers. He slowly raised his eyelashes, meeting her eyes. Their lips were

only a few inches apart.

He stared intently at her for several heart-stopping moments.

Zanita felt as if her stomach had fallen to the floor only to bounce back into

her ribcage.

"Mmm—just what I like: not too sweet, varied texture, unusual flavor, with a

creamy consistency." He licked the cone one more time, his eyes never leaving

hers. "Want to try mine?"

He was shameless.

An unconventional, incredibly alluring, no-holds-barred kook!

Zanita really liked him.

He held his cone out to her. She tentatively licked his Coconut Brazilian Mud

Rainbow Brownie Jubilee.

"Well?" He prompted her.

"It—it's different."

"Different good or different yuck?" He raised his brows in inquiry as if they

were really talking about ice cream.

Zanita smiled secretively, not about to admit to anything. "I'm not sure yet."

Tonight, the last of the lecture series, he spoke about magnetic sails powering

spaceships, hydrogen mining around Jupiter, and cryogenics. All the while

licking an ice cream cone.

The clown, who turned out to be an undergrad philosophy student, surprised

everyone by intelligently adding his twist to the topic. Soon everyone was

debating ethics instead of theory.

Zanita dived into the discussion with both feet, loving nothing better than a

rousing debate. She was not at all intimidated by the totally male group. Hank

had raised her to voice her opinions, and voice them she did. Several times, as

she touted her viewpoint, she noticed Tyber watching her intently, often

unconsciously shaking his head in agreement with her comments.

The discussion was so lively, the group failed to notice that all the stores had

closed and the lights were shutting off. Mall security ended up throwing them

out.

Tyber thanked them all for coming to the class. Several of the members,

including Stan, wondered if they might meet on a regular basis to continue the

off-beat discussions. It was not what they had originally expected, but everyone

had enjoyed it immensely.

Tyber, not without some amusement, said he would consider it. In truth, he had

thrown away his original notes for the last two classes in the hope of keeping

one small, violet-eyed woman interested in coming to hear him.

But then, he knew, better than most, that some of the best discoveries in

science and life were accidental in nature.

Stan pulled out a pad of paper, handing it around for everyone's name and phone

number, which he then dutifully handed to Tyber, leaving the decision in his

court, since he was the motivating factor. Zanita bet it did not escape any of

the men here that being in a regular discussion group with Tyberius Augustus

Evans would grant them a certain professional elitism.

Tyber folded the paper, placing it in his shirt pocket, again thanking everyone

for coming. Zanita wondered if he would actually pursue the group. From what she

knew of him, she tended to doubt it; he was a maverick and a loner by nature.

The crowd wandered off, leaving the two of them conspicuously standing there.

"Zanita, would you—"

"Tyber, can I—"

They spoke at the same time.

They both laughed. Tyber gestured. "You go first."

"Tyber, I was wondering if… well, I know you don't usually do this, I mean as

far as I know, you've never done it, and I know you haven't known me long, but

still, perhaps…"

He grinned at her. "Zanita, what are you talking about? It can't possibly be

what it sounds like."

She swallowed, gathering her courage, knowing this was probably the only

opportunity she'd have. "Would you give me an interview?"

He looked at her stunned. "What?"

"I'm a reporter for—"

His expression changed instantly. Gone was the smiling, approachable man. "I

see. I should have known." He seemed terribly disappointed for some reason. "Was

it all an act? Blundering into class and—"

"No! I had no idea who you were; I mean, not right away. I meant to take a

psychic healing class for a story I hope to do and—"

"I see. Opportunity knocked." The sarcasm in his voice was evident. "No wonder

you reminded me of my cat."

Her shoulders slumped. This wasn't going at all well. And what was that crack

about his cat?

"What paper?" he demanded in disgust. "The Globe?"

"No."

"Time?"

"No."

"People?"

"No."

He looked at her inquiringly.

"The Patriot Sun."

He seemed surprised at first; then he