Hot As Sin by Debra Dixon Page B

really good care of it.”
    “You better or there’ll be hell to pay. I gotta tell you—hell hath no fury like Jeffie in a snit,” she warned him ominously, and then changed the subject by holding up the covered dish. “Couldn’t sleep last night, so I made casseroles for everyone. Here’s yours. The kidscall it Egg-o-rama. It’s really sort of a quiche thing instead of a casserole. And before you start getting all macho on me, let me just tell you that real men
do
eat quiche because they aren’t afraid of anything except a good woman. And judging from your love life lately, you’ve got to be a real man. A good woman scares the hell out of you.”
    Without waiting for an invitation, Marsha Jean made a beeline for the kitchen. Or attempted to until she caught sight of Emily standing quietly by the dryer. If the waitress had been a car, she’d have left skid marks on the floor. As she stopped, the ceramic dish lid clattered and threatened to fly off before she grabbed it.
    “Sister!”
    “Hello,” Emily said, wishing she had the glasses she’d left by the bed. Fortunately, even without them Marsha Jean had made the connection between her face and last night’s nun instead of the connection to Emily Quinn.
    Marsha Jean’s eyes widened at the implication of finding a nun out of uniform in the apartment of a single heterosexual male. In rapid succession she noted the rumpled bed, Emily’s unbound hair, and her general appearance of having just been kissed hard. A second later Marsha Jean’s mouth hung open as she stared at the front of Emily’s shirt.
    Hesitantly Emily dropped her gaze and then shut her eyes in embarrassment. There was a noticeable circle of moisture where Gabe had sucked her nipple through the shirt. It was too odd a place for her to have spilled anything, and the circle was just about the perfect size to match her aureole.

SIX
    “Excuse me,” Marsha Jean said abruptly, and dumped the casserole on the coffee table. “Gabe, a word please.”
    Emily shot a stricken glance at him, not sure whether Marsha Jean was jealous or offended. Or both. Either way, she had to be pacified, and Gabe had to do the pacifying.
    He didn’t appear the least bit uncomfortable or anxious as Marsha Jean advanced on him purposely. He certainly didn’t act like he’d been caught red-handed with another woman, and that fact inexplicably pleased Emily. Despite her intention to stay clear of Gabe emotionally, she was much happier with the idea that the blond waitress was a platonic friend rather than Gabe’s lover.
    This is a classic Patrick Talbot moment
, Gabe thought as he waited for what he assumed would be a very large piece of his waitress’s mind. She was obviously outraged at the thought of her sainted boss deflowering a nun. Marsha Jean was slender but tall, so Gabe didn’t have tolean over very far when she grabbed his arm and hauled him close enough to whisper.
    “Have you completely lost your mind?” Marsha Jean hissed, her face only inches from his. “I know I told you that you needed to get back in the saddle, but she’s a
nun
, for God’s sake. Haven’t you got a shred of decency in that thick head of yours? You’ve … you’ve …”
    Words seemed to fail her, and she looked back over her shoulder at Emma for inspiration. Obviously finding it in Emma’s anxious expression, she whipped back around to continue her tirade. Her grip on his arm tightened with every word. “Don’t you know what you’ve done? You’ve
seduced
—”
    This time words didn’t fail her; they were ripped away by the startling revelation Gabe could see written all over her stunned face. Marsha Jean dropped his arm and turned around very slowly, as if uncertain of what she might see. She stared for a long time before she croaked, “Oh, my God. You’re Emily Quinn.”
    “Well, I guess we can skip the introductions,” Gabe noted.
    Over the top of Marsha Jean’s head, Emma and Gabe stared at each other,