Free Open Invitation? by Karen Kendall

get your coffee and be back momentarily.” Her words were polite, but he caught a glimpse of steel in the set of her chin.
    â€œSurely.”
    She swiped the carrot juice and departed, giving him yet another opportunity to—
    â€œMr. Granger! Stop ogling that, please.”
    What, did the woman have an eye in her spine? But Dan just chuckled, saw that she’d placed a sturdy wing chair where the little matchstick one had been the day before, and sat in it. He finished his breakfast taco, set one on her desk as the polite thing to do and threw his wrapper and napkin away.
    He noticed that his hat still adorned the head of the old coot on her credenza, and he got up and plucked it off. A second look at the old coot revealed that the bust was almost certainly of Sir Henry London. Aw, hell.
    What had he said yesterday about how the pompous ass looked good in it? He closed his eyes for a moment. Then he turned and hung his hat off one of the wings of the chair before settling into it again.
    Lilia glided into the room without the carrot juice or the martial light in her eye. She set another delicate flowered cup and saucer in front of him and he eyed it uneasily.
    Then her nostrils flared and she turned even greener, if that were possible, when she saw the breakfast taco on her desk. “What’s that?” she asked in a faint voice.
    â€œWhy, it’s your breakfast taco, Lil. You scarf that down and you’ll be right as rain, as my grandpa Lou used to say. It’ll soak up all the acid, sit like a tasty brick in your tummy and keep you on-task.”
    â€œBreakfast taco? ” She backed away from it as if the thing might spring at her and clamp onto her throat.
    â€œYeah. I was getting a couple for myself at this great little dive place, and I brought you one, too. Only polite, right? Oh, and here.” He dug some little packets of hot sauce out of his jeans. “Regular and extra-spicy.”
    â€œThat was…very thoughtful of you, Dan. But I’m feeling a bit queasy at the moment. A stomach virus, you know.”
    â€œWould that be another one of your little white lies? Blondie out there already told me you have God’s own hangover, hon. So do what Uncle Dan says, now, and eat the cure.”
    â€œShannon told you that I was—?” Her black eyes snapped.
    â€œAw, I woulda figured it out anyway. I’m experienced with that sort of thing.” He grinned and leaned forward, unwrapping the taco for her.
    She stared at it with naked revulsion. It stared back at her.
    â€œYummy,” Dan said. “Here. Unroll the tortilla and add some sauce.”
    Miz London looked as if she’d rather eat roadkill, buther manners got the better of her. He’d brought her a gift, and she would force herself to taste it.
    Dan was impressed. She actually dredged up a polite smile, added the milder sauce and held the taco to her lips.
    â€œCome on, it’s not like it’s something off of Fear Factor, ” he urged her.
    She sank her small, pearly, ladylike teeth into the thing and took a bite. Her pretty pink lips wrapped around the corner of the soft taco. Dan knew he was staring, and remembered vaguely that it was rude, but he was mesmerized by the sight of her, in her French twist and pearls, with her mouth open wide around the phallic food.
    She flushed as she looked up and caught him. He was quite sure his eyes were glazing over.
    Her gaze flew from his and she chewed delicately, thoughtfully. “This is good,” she said, sounding surprised.
    â€œOf course it is. Would I lie to you?”
    â€œIf I can eat this taco in a greasy wrapper, then you can sip coffee out of that cup.”
    â€œBut I’m afraid I’ll break this one, too.”
    â€œAnd I’m afraid that I’ll drop sausage, egg or grease onto my suit. We’re both broadening our cultural horizons, here, Dan.”
    He grinned and picked up the cup and saucer. The