Ah, a philosopher. I have never understood that line of reasoning. How would my eating something help the hungry in other lands?

“If you’re angling for a tip, you’re wasting your time,” I said. I have a rule. I don’t tip rude people, especially when they interfere with my love life.

“Look, lady, it’s my job to deliver this chow mein or whatever it is. A quarter from you is not going to change my life. Just take the freakin’ box, will you?”

I made up my mind to call the food-delivery service, at some point in the near future, and complain about their personnel. So what if the food was free? I hadn’t ordered it, or the attitude.

I took the chain off and grabbed the stupid box.

By now, Tucker was in the shower, naked and lathered and sleek.

“Thanks for nothing,” I told the kid, “and tell your boss to take me off the phone list.”

“Whatever,” the kid snapped.

I slammed the door.

I didn’t bother to carry the free chow mein as far as the kitchen. I set the box on the coffee table with a thump and headed for the bathroom.

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t succumb to Tucker’s charms, and there were all kinds of reasons to support that decision—his ex-wife, his crazy job, my own history of poor taste in men—but this was elemental. Until I’d walked into the kitchen that morning and found him standing there with a box of doughnuts, and even for a few minutes after that, I’d half believed he was dead.

Bert had nearly died the night before, and life seemed terribly tenuous.

I needed to celebrate, even though I knew I would probably regret the decision later.

When I burst through the bathroom door Tucker was out of the shower, clean and gloriously male. He gave me a devilish grin and held out his arms.

“Wait,” I said.

He cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“I have to brush my teeth.”

Tucker stood close behind me while I dabbed paste onto the old bristles, scrubbed and foamed. He lifted my T-shirt, laid his hands on either side of my waist, and slid them down into my sweatpants, over my hipbones.

I nearly choked on my toothpaste.

I bent to spit and rinse, and when I did, I came into direct contact with Tucker’s erection. I straightened again, with a gasp.

He chuckled and eased me back against him. At the same time, he slipped a finger into the moist curls between my legs and teased me until I groaned, my head resting against his shoulder.

“We—shouldn’t—do—this,” I said, knowing all the while that we would.

Tucker nibbled at my earlobe. “Umm-hmmm,” he agreed.