Free 30 Days by Christine D'Abo Page A

sex-starved-dear-God-is-this-happening look, but I didn’t want to come across as desperate. Or crazy.
    Even though I was starting to question my sanity.
    This time when I knocked on Harrison’s door, he answered almost immediately. He’d clearly had a shower of his own, his hair still damp and his navy dress shirt sticking to his chest in places. I tightened my grip on the platter with the skewers and forced my attention to his face.
    He was trying not to laugh at me.
    â€œSo hi.” I held up the platter and smiled. “I have these.”
    â€œI have wine. Come on in.”
    Unlike last night, Harrison’s place was decidedly neater. “You didn’t have to clean for me.” I followed him through to the kitchen, exchanging my platter for a glass of white.
    â€œI didn’t. I simply shoved a bunch of the boxes into the spare room.” Picking up a skewer, he lifted it to his mouth and pulled off a cherry tomato with his teeth. “Tasty.”
    I whimpered.
    â€œI’m roasting veggies to make my own sauce. I figured pasta would be a safe meal. Didn’t know if you had any dislikes or allergies.” He stuck his tongue out to lick the chicken cube before he pulled it free of the stick as well.
    This is the part of the conversation where you respond. I cleared my throat. “I’ll eat anything. I mean, I like it all. I don’t have any allergies.”
    He laughed. Not a soft chuckle, or polite tittering. Nope, Harrison let out a belly-deep laugh. “How freaked out are you right now?”
    â€œOn a scale of one to ten? I’m swallowing a bottle of Ativan.”
    â€œThis is going to take awhile longer. Why don’t we go sit on the couch and talk?”
    In a flash the image of his nearly naked body sitting back against the cushions flashed in my mind. “I’m good here. The wine’s closer.”
    He filled up my glass. “Fair enough. Here it is.”
    Pulling up a stool, he perched on top of it and patted the seat beside him. A man that large shouldn’t be subjected to such a tiny area, but there was no way I’d last ten minutes on the couch. I pulled the stool out to put more space between us. “Okay.”
    The pause was unexpected. How the hell was either of us supposed to move forward with this?
    â€œI’m sorry.” I sighed and rolled my glass between my hands. “I honestly have no idea what I’m doing, or why I’m considering enacting these cards. You were right when you said it’s freaking weird. How screwed up am I to even consider doing this?”
    â€œYou don’t strike me as screwed up. Lonely, yes. But not crazy.”
    â€œI guess that’s something.”
    Harrison had propped his elbow on the counter and now bracketed the side of his face with his forefinger and thumb. It felt as though he was trying to get a read on me and still wasn’t certain what he was seeing. This was the most awkward not-a-first-date I’d ever been a party to.
    The first rule of being social was getting to know the other person. I could do that. “You’re in sales? What’s that like?”
    His eyes sparkled as the corner of his mouth lifted. “I get to meet interesting people. Lots of verbal dancing.”
    â€œI’m a technical writer for a software firm. No dancing of any kind.”
    â€œI bet you’re a champ.”
    â€œIt’s boring as hell, but it pays the bills.” It wasn’t really. I loved picking apart programs, outlining all the nooks and crannies so that some poor user wouldn’t have to beat their head against it. I’d yet to find anyone outside of the business who enjoyed it, though, so I normally kept the work chat to a minimum.
    â€œI’ve met all kinds in my line of work.” Harrison leaned in and lowered his voice. “Do you know Charlie Brown?”
    I blinked. “Pardon?”
    â€œCharlie Brown. Bald-headed boy,