She’d already spent far too much time with him today, but she couldn’t stand the idea of staying here alone tonight while he painted the town German chocolate. “I suppose. Let me get a sweater.”

As she headed back to her bedroom, she told herself what she already knew. Going out to dinner with him was a lousy idea, just as lousy as the two of them sitting around on the porch drinking wine together. Almost as lousy as not insisting he sleep under another roof.

Even though she didn’t care about impressing him, she decided a shawl would make a better fashion statement with her sundress than a sweater, and she whipped out the bright red tablecloth she’d discovered in the bottom drawer of the dresser. As she unfolded it, she spotted something strange on the table next to her bed, something that hadn’t been there earlier and that definitely didn’t belong to her. “Aarrrggghhhh!”

Kevin shot into the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at that!” She pointed at the small bottle of drugstore perfume. “That meddling little … trollop!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Amy stuck that perfume there!” She rounded on him. “Bite me!”

“Why are you mad at me? I didn’t do it.”

“No! Bite me. Give me a hickey right here.” She jabbed her finger at a spot a few inches above her collarbone.

“You want me to give you a hickey?”

“Are you deaf?”

“Just thunderstruck.”

“There’s no one else I can ask, and I can’t stand spending another day getting marital advice from a nineteen-year-old nymphomaniac. This’ll put a stop to it.”

“Did anybody ever mention you might be a few french fries short of a Happy Meal?”

“Go ahead. Make fun of me. She doesn’t condescend to you the same way she does to me.”

“Forget it. I’m not giving you a hickey.”

“Fine. I’ll get someone else to do it.”

“You will not!”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll ask Charlotte Long.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“She knows how the lovebirds behave. She’ll understand.”

“The image of that woman chomping on your neck just took away my appetite. And don’t you think it’ll be a little embarrassing showing off your bruise when other people are around?”

“I’ll wear something with a collar, and I’ll flip it up.”

“Then push it right back down when you see Amy.”

“Okay, I’m not proud of myself. But if I don’t do something, I’m going to strangle her.”

“She’s just a teenager. Why do you care?”

“Fine. Forget it.”

“And have you run off to Charlotte Long?” His voice dropped a husky note. “I don’t think so.”

She swallowed. “You’ll do it?”

“I guess I have to.”