LITMIR.BIZ

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salad and we’ll go.”

      “I think not,” Ray said firmly, sounding nothing like the darling sergeant she had begun to think of him as. “Your aunt paid for a full meal. We will eat the entire meal. And we’ll enjoy it.” He sounded just like a drill instructor.

      “Yes, sir,” Patsy snapped, then approximated a salute.

      Ray chuckled. “At least, you used the right hand.” Then he dug in to his salad, and Patsy was glad he was occupied for the time being.

      She made a face, and turned her attention to her own salad. “This is a little nicer than staying home with my dog, my VCR and black-and-white movies,” she murmured, her mouth full. Now why had she volunteered that particular morsel of information?

      “You like old movies?” Ray asked, his eyes brightening with interest.

      Patsy blushed. Ray had picked right up on her comment. Were they actually trying to make conversation? She swallowed. “Yes. And I hate it when they’ve been colorized. It makes them look too bright. Too artificial.”

      “And seeing things in shades of gray isn’t?”

      Did he want to argue, or was he merely making conversation? Patsy swallowed another bite of salad. “You know what I mean. The colors are often wrong.”

      “Yes, I understand. Do you just enjoy the classics, or anything not in color?” Ray forked another bit of salad.

      “My favorites are Casablanca, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre and The Maltese Falcon.”

      “A Humphrey Bogart fan, then,” Ray concluded. “What about the Three Stooges or the Marx Brothers?”

      “Too silly. No woman likes them. What’s funny about three grown men poking each other in the eye and bonking each other on the head?”

      “Harold Lloyd?”

      “Better. At least, he’s not mean-spirited. But I prefer stuff that pretends to have a plot.” Patsy swallowed. Had she really said that?

      Ray chuckled. He had such a nice smile, Patsy couldn’t help noticing. “I have to confess that I like old science fiction movies.”

      “Attack of the Killer Centipedes, and The Blob that ate Albuquerque? Those kinds?” Patsy suggested, making up names.

      “Planet Nine from Outer Space. Probably one of the best worst movies ever made.” Ray laughed. “And one of my favorites.”

      Patsy couldn’t help smiling. Was Ray actually a fan? “You know Ed Wood?”

      “Know him? I love him!” Ray broke into a wide grin. “I probably have every one of his movies memorized.”

      You would, she couldn’t help thinking, but in a nice way. Ray had been reputed to be smarter than the average airman, but she’d never really had a conversation with him until now. What chitchat they’d had always seemed to lean toward the weather or the reason he was at the clinic. Now she was finding out that his interests were different than those of the typical airman, but she’d bet he was into computer games. If not computers themselves.

      “I just ordered the complete Wood collection off the Internet,” she found herself confessing.

      “Oh, man,” Ray said. “I think I’m falling in love.”

      Then the waiter arrived with their food, and Patsy turned gratefully to her Deviled Crab. Saved by the dinner bell, she couldn’t help thinking as she chewed. Another minute and she might have found herself inviting Ray to her place for an Ed Wood Film Festival.

      In spite of her reservations, Patsy was enjoying her “date” with Ray. Of course, she’d never let on to Aunt Myrtle. And deep down she knew that she wasn’t ready to invite this man, any man, into her home. She still had secrets she wanted—no needed—to keep.

      RAY ORDERED the Pecan Praline Pie just to extend the evening—even if he would have to run a couple of extra miles next week to make up for it. He might be as hard and tough as an armadillo’s kneecap, but he had to work at it. His weakness had always been dessert.

      At least, Prickly Patsy had ordered dessert as well. Did she always eat dessert or was she, too, looking for a way to keep the evening going?

      “I am going to regret this,” Patsy said as the waiter placed the Death by Chocolate in front of her. She inhaled the rich aroma. She hadn’t even taken a bite, and Ray thought she might swoon. That was certainly a side of Prickly Pritchard he would never have imagined. The guys at the base often wondered if she survived on a diet of pickles and prunes.

      “That good, huh?”

      “Just the aroma seems sinful,” she said, slicing off a piece with the side of her fork. She raised it to her lips, but didn’t open her mouth. “Maybe if I just look at it, and only breathe it in, I won’t gain twenty pounds.” She looked at Ray and grinned. “No, I’ll gain it anyway just from being in the same room with it,” she said wryly. “I might as well go for the complete experience.”

      Patsy popped the chocolate confection into her mouth and slowly withdrew the fork. She wore an expression of pure bliss as she chewed, and Ray wondered if that was what she looked like when she made love. What would it feel like to have her underneath him and to give her that much pleasure? Would she respond like…?

      He gave himself a mental shake to rid himself of the image in his mind’s eye, but he almost exploded as he watched Patsy eat. To keep himself sane, he took a huge bite of his own dessert, and understood why Prickly Pritchard had had such a powerful reaction. The desserts here were too damned good to be legal.

      “Oh, man. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he muttered.

      “Even if paying for it will be hell,” Patsy said. “I’ll have to take a couple of extra aerobics classes to pay for this.”

      “Yeah,” Ray said with a groan. “I’ll probably have to run ten extra miles.”

      Patsy laughed and Ray loved seeing it. Here, she seemed so different from the stern, prickly nurse he’d seen so often in the clinic.

      “I should think you’d be used to it,” she said. “Don’t you run wearing forty pound rucksacks on a regular basis?” She leaned on her hand and watched him with an interested expression.

      “Not if I can avoid it.” Ray patted his stomach. “And after all I’ve eaten tonight, it might feel like I’m carrying two rucksacks.”

      “You can handle it,” Patsy said. “You have plenty of muscles, from what I’ve seen.” She looked quickly down at her plate, but not too quickly for Ray to notice the flush that colored her alabaster skin with an embarrassed stain.

      Was she thinking about the other day in the clinic when she’d had a free look at his rump, or was she embarrassed about making such a personal statement? Ray pushed his plate away and decided to change the subject. “Well, I’ve had plenty. More than plenty.” He signaled for the waiter.

      “Sir?”

      “We’re ready for the check.”

      “The other lady took care of it,” the waiter said. “The one who left.”

      “I see,” Ray said, annoyed that Miss Carter had paid for his meal. He’d fully expected to pay for this evening.

      And it didn’t make him happy that the evening was about to come to an end. Considering Prickly Pritchard’s reputation for turning down dates, this was probably his one and only chance.

      The question was: For what?

      And why? was another question. The answer to that one was clear: he really liked this Patsy Pritchard. From what he’d learned about her tonight, there was a whole lot more to her than her clinic demeanor suggested. But was his attraction due to the challenge her “at-work” attitude presented, or was it a genuine attraction to the woman he’d glimpsed tonight?

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