Summer Lovin by Carly Phillips Page A

seamlessly Zoe had lied to yet another family member and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
    â€œNeed menus?”
    Zoe waved a hand, indicating she didn’t. “But I’m sure Ryan does seeing as how he’s never been to a diner before.”
    He caught the snicker in her voice and shot her a scowl. “I’d appreciate a menu,” he told Daphne.
    The waitress handed him what felt more like a pile of laminated lead. “Take your time,” she said, but continued to stand over him.
    He glanced from Daphne, who was beautiful in a more made-up way than her cousin, back to Zoe again.
    Zoe let out an exaggerated sigh. “You can go now, Daph.”
    â€œAre you sure he’s just the social worker?” She leaned down, giving him a gratuitous view of her cleavage.
    â€œI’m sure he’s just the social worker.” Zoe shook her head and laughed. “Daphne loves to snoop into her cousins’ lives because she doesn’t have a love life of her own.”
    â€œAha! So you admit he’s more than a social worker.”
    Zoe turned beet red. “I admit no such thing.”
    â€œYou just did by the color in your cheeks.”
    Ryan had never been around this kind of family teasing and he took pity on Zoe. “I’ll have eggs over easy and white toast with butter,” he said hoping to distract Daphne from the more personal issues.
    â€œTsk-tsk, cholesterol heaven. I’ll tell Dad to make it egg whites so you’ll live a long, healthy life.” She snatched his menu. “You’ll have the usual, Zoe?”
    She nodded and Daphne finally left them alone.
    â€œSo what’s the usual?” he asked.
    â€œOld-fashioned French toast.”
    â€œWhat makes it old-fashioned?”
    She raised her eyebrows, obviously surprised. “Old-fashioned is made on regular bread, not the extrathick kind.”
    â€œAha.” He glanced over his shoulder in time to see their waitress enter the swinging kitchen doors, then turned back to Zoe. “So what do you do for a living?” he asked now that he was certain Cousin Daphne had disappeared.
    Zoe leaned both elbows on the table and edged forward. “So what makes you ask?” She knew Ryan had given her more information about himself than she’d reciprocated, yet this sudden question took her by surprise.
    He shrugged. “I’m not sure. You don’t seem to be having much trouble helping me act the social worker role in front of your family. I mean look how easily you just lied to Daphne.”
    She narrowed her gaze. “So?”
    â€œSo lying comes easily to you. I read about your family’s cons. I’ve seen the old newspaper articles. The ‘Alien Twins Invade New Jersey’ photograph in The National Enquirer —”
    â€œHey just because my mother put self-tanning lotion on us and we turned orange—”
    â€œA normal family wouldn’t have leveraged it into a national spectacle.”
    Zoe rolled her eyes and laughed at the memory. “‘All the news that’s fit to print.’”
    â€œThat particular slogan belongs to The New York Times .”
    Daphne arrived with their coffees, placing their cups on the table. Before Zoe could send her on her way, she said, “I know, I know, I’m going. I’ll give you privacy.” Shaking her head, she walked away, her heels clicking.
    â€œSo besides finding sensationalism amusing and protecting my family, what else am I doing wrong in your eyes?” Zoe asked.
    He ran his hand through his hair, messing up that always perfect coif. “It isn’t wrong, it’s different. And I’m allowing for it,” he admitted. “All of you just take some getting used to.”
    She grinned. “We do tend to grow on you. Oh, and to get back to your original question, I used to be a Secret Service agent.”
    â€œWow.” He leaned closer, staring at her