He grinned. His privates?

“Better yet, we’ll wait until tomorrow when you’ve had a chance to adjust to the idea.”

Game over. He took a swig of beer. “That’s okay. I’ll pull on some clothes.” He unfastened the top buttons of his shirt and watched the Bulls’ new guard miss a foul shot before he switched off the TV and crossed the room to open the door.

Chapter Three

The Beav’s contempt for fashion clearly carried over into nightwear. She wore a maroon man’s T-shirt and a pair of faded black track pants that hung in accordion pleats around her small ankles. Nothing remotely sexy about either of those garments, except for the mystery of what they covered up. He stepped back to let her in. She smelled like soap instead of a perfume factory.

He headed for the minibar. “Let me get you a drink.”

She yelped. “Ohmygod, you don’t actually use that thing?”

He couldn’t help it. He looked down at his crotch.

She, however, had her eye on the minibar. She dropped her sketch pad, shot in front of him, and snatched up the price list. “Look at this. Two-fifty for a tiny water bottle. Three dollars for a Snickers bar. A Snickers bar!”

“You’re paying for more than the candy,” he pointed out. “You’re paying for the convenience of having the candy exactly when you want it.”

But she’d spotted his peanut can on the bed, and he couldn’t talk her down. “Seven dollars. Seven dollars! How could you?”

“Do you need a paper bag to breathe into?”

“You should just hand over your wallet.”

“Normally I wouldn’t mention this,” he said, “but I’m rich.” And, barring the total collapse of the U.S. economy, he always would be. As a kid, the money had come from substantial child support payments. As an adult, it came from something one hell of a lot better. His own hard work.

“I don’t care how rich you are. Seven dollars for a can of peanuts is extortion.”

The Beav, he realized, had some serious money issues, but that didn’t mean he had to buy into them. “Wine or beer, take your choice. Or I’ll choose for you because, one way or another, a bottle’s going to get opened here.”

She still had her nose buried in the price list. “Could you just give me the six bucks, and I’ll pretend to drink the beer?”

He took her by the shoulders and set her aside so he could get to the minibar. “Don’t look if this is too painful for you.”

She snatched up her sketch pad and retreated to the chair across the room. “There are people starving in the world.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”