Smitten by Janet Evanovich

“You’re being protected. And if this doesn’t scare him off, I’m moving in.”
    Lizabeth glared at him. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
    Matt handed the cable to the electrician. “I want a switch installed in her bedroom and in the kitchen.” He looked down at Lizabeth and grinned. “Damned if you aren’t cute when you get all riled up like this.”
    â€œAnd another thing: You kept calling me ‘honey’ at work today. What will the men think?”
    â€œI wouldn’t worry about it. None of those men think while they’re working.”
    â€œAnd it was very nice of you to have that fancy restaurant cater lunch for me, but I felt a little conspicuous.”
    â€œI swear, I didn’t order the violin player,” Matt said, raising his hand. “They threw him in as a bonus.”
    Lizabeth shot him an intensely peeved look.
    â€œAll right, all right. I admit, I’ve gone off the deep end. I have this horrible compulsion to do things for you. I can’t control myself. Boy, I tell you, love is hell.”
    â€œOh yeah? If it’s such hell, why don’t you sound more miserable? You’ve been looking absolutely smug all day. And predatory. I have a cat. I’ve watched Wild Kingdom. I know predatory when I see it.”
    â€œI have a plan,” Matt said.
    He was wearing a navy T-shirt with the sleeves cut out, and it tucked into jeans that were almost white from wear. The jeans had a frayed, horizontal slash across the knee and were perfectly molded to masculine bulgesand hard, muscular thighs. He smelled like pine sawdust and spice aftershave, and Lizabeth thought he was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. If his plan was half as enticing as his perfect butt, she was in big trouble. “What’s the plan?”
    â€œYou might not want to hear it. It involves sweaty, naked bodies…ours. And there’s this part where you’re on fire—internally, of course—and you’re begging me to make hard, passionate love to you.”
    â€œThat’s not a plan. That’s a fantasy.”
    Matt smiled. “Not the way I see it.”
    Elsie pulled into the driveway in her big blue-and-white Cadillac. She levered herself out of the car, took a grocery bag from the front seat, and started across the lawn. “What’s going on here?” she said. “What’s all the fuss about?”
    Lizabeth took the bag from her. “Matt’s having lights installed around the house for security purposes.”
    Elsie smiled broadly, creasing her face. “Good idea. It was a shame we had to miss that guy bashing his way through the azalea bushes last night.”
    â€œIt’s a waste of time and money,” Lizabethsaid. “He’ll probably never come back. And besides, it’s supposed to rain tonight. No one would be dumb enough to flash in the rain.”
    Eight hours later, Lizabeth admitted she’d been wrong about the flasher. There seemed to be no limit to his stupidity. Rain softly pattered on the windowpane and ran in narrow rivulets down the screen while Lizabeth and Elsie peered out at the bedraggled exhibitionist. His paper-bag mask sat limp and wet on his head, his tie was plastered to his chest, and his Docksiders were sunk a good inch and a half in mud.
    Elsie slowly shook her head. “That’s pathetic.”
    â€œHe seems a little compulsive about this flashing stuff,” Lizabeth said. “I really didn’t think he’d show.”
    â€œYeah, you gotta give him something for hanging in there. The man’s no quitter.”
    Lizabeth gnawed on her lower lip. “You think we should throw an umbrella out to him?”
    â€œNo,” Elsie said, “I kinda like watching him drip. Let’s see what he looks like with the floods on him.” She reached over and flipped the switch, and the yard was bathed in an eerie