The Rebound Girl (Getting Physical) by Tamara Morgan Page A

restaurant filled with red checkered tablecloths and private label wine. Almost all the tables seated two and the lights were so dim the menus had to be read with a flashlight. He and Lincoln had a standing weekly date here.
    Yes, sharing a candlelit dinner with his brother every Tuesday night might not be the height of his romantic fantasies, but single people deserved to eat at their favorite restaurants too. Yet another hard truth no one bothered mentioning in the So Your Wife Cheated on You handbook.
    “You boys want me to uncork that wine?” their server asked, materializing from out of the darkness. The fact that the waitstaff dressed all in black made it that much harder to see them coming. “And how’s that salad with the nonfat dressing on the side treating you, Lincoln?”
    Now it was Matt’s turn to laugh. The haughtiness of the tall, slender brunette filling the breadbasket could only mean one thing—Lincoln had slept with her enough times that she’d become aware of the strict diet that kept him lean and in shape. Protein and vegetables. Workouts twice a day. And, when he thought no one was watching, baby oil to the abs so they glistened in the sun.
    “It’s delicious, thanks.” Lincoln speared a mushroom. “And no wine for me. I’m on duty at eight.”
    Matt snorted. “I don’t think the Rotary Club bake sale qualifies as official police duty.”
    “People look to me for leadership. You have no idea how hard it is being a public servant.”
    The waitress—Melinda, her nametag pronounced—let out a laugh. “I’ll be back around with some water. I am so slipping the hostess a twenty tonight. You’re going in someone else’s section next week.”
    “That’s exactly what I mean,” Lincoln announced, shaking his head at Melinda as she folded back into the shadows. “A few years ago, she would have been begging for a chance to serve the great Officer Fuller his dinner. But ever since the borough’s been taken over by commuters, it’s like the girls here won’t look at anyone without a six-figure income and Venetian plaster walls.”
    “Don’t you think that might have more to do with the fact that you’ve slept with and discarded at least half of the Pleasant Park female population?” Matt asked.
    Separated as they were by just eleven slightly scandalous months, he and Lincoln had always been closer than most of the other siblings they knew. They’d shared a grade, clothes—most of the time—Christmas presents too. But ever since his brother had hit a robust thirteen and Matt straggled into an awkward twelve, Matt had a hard time finding much sympathy for him in the dating arena. The way he treated women, like disposable playthings, wasn’t exactly progressive.
    “That shows what you know.” Lincoln pushed his salad plate away and grabbed the parmesan and red pepper flake shakers, setting them up in the newly cleared space. He gestured at them. “Take Kendra, for example.”
    “Is she the cheese or the pepper flakes?”
    “She’s the pepper flakes. Hot.” Lincoln didn’t miss a beat. “We had fun. We danced, we talked, we fu—”
    Matt held up a hand. “I really don’t need to hear the details.”
    Lincoln rolled his eyes and brought the two shakers together in a crude approximation of condiment sex. “We fucked, Matt. It’s okay to say that word now that you’re free of Laura. Anyway, the point is that I’m not a complete jerk. I got her phone number, texted her the next day and all that.”
    “Wait—are you supposed to be the parmesan cheese?”
    “You’re damn right I am. We complemented each other, Kendra and I. But the next morning, when I told her I had to get to the station for work, it was like a wall came crashing down.” Lincoln put his napkin between the shakers and nudged the pepper flakes closer to the bottle of wine. “She used me. It was all fun and games until she found out what I did for a living. She doesn’t want the cheese, no matter how