Free The Trouble With J.J. by Tami Hoag Page B

coming around the counter. Genna swallowed hard. He wore a black tank top as if it were a second skin. It made his shoulders look impossibly wide.
    “Oh, I learned all kinds of stuff. I learned howto mow the lawn and how to arrange furniture.” He slid down onto the chair at the head of the table, resting his tanned forearms on the smooth cherry wood. “Thursday is double coupon day at Fred’s, Never make a pass at the Avon lady. A shirt and tie is acceptable dress at a PTA meeting. I guess pants are optional.”
    Amy burst into a fit of giggles that sounded like machine-gun fire.
    Jared’s gaze fell on Genna. “But my favorite lesson was ‘All About Kitchen Tile.’”
    The insinuation went right by Amy, as intended, but Genna flushed scarlet.
    “Genna’s an excellent teacher,” he went on, straight-faced.
    “Yeah,” Amy agreed. “All the kids really like her.”
    “I like her,” he said silkily, his eyes smoldering, “and I’m a big boy.”
    Genna turned three shades darker than scarlet. She was going to kill him—one handsome inch at a time.
    She stood up suddenly with murder in her eyes and shoved the plate of nut bread at Amy. “There’s your nut bread, Amy. Thanks for stopping by,” she said loudly.
    Amy’s brows puckered together in confusion. She’d obviously missed something. “But Genna,” she whined. “I don’t want nut bread. I have to go to Weight Watchers today.”
    “Take it with you.” Genna smiled unpleasantly. “You can share it.”
    “All right already!” Snatching the plate from her friend’s hands, she gave Jared a brief salute and backed toward the door.
    “PMS,” Jared said affably.
    Amy nodded, slipping outside.
    Genna treated Jared to her most baleful glare. “I do not have PMS.”
    She turned on her heel and limped to the kitchen, where she began noisily rummaging through drawers. Jared ambled in, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the counter.
    “What ya lookin’ for, Teach?”
    “The meanest, wickedest-looking knife I own,” she said between clenched teeth.
    “What for?”
    “For to kill you with.”
    “Corporal punishment is against the law in Connecticut.”
    She turned on him, smacking him on his flatstomach with a spaghetti spoon. “You should be against the law in Connecticut!”
    “Me!” he blurted out incredulously. “What’d I do?”
    Staring disbelievingly at his wounded expression, she threw up her hands. “What did you do? What did you do! How could you? How could you say those things with Amy sitting right there?”
    He waved it off. “She didn’t know what I was talking about.”
    “That’s not the point,” Genna said, seething, genuinely upset. They had come dangerously close to making love and he had belittled the experience by joking about it. Now she thought of last night and felt cheap.
    “Oh, Genna,” Jared said softly, accurately reading her mind. He took the spoon out of her hand and pulled her into his arms, where she stood as stiff as Candy the mannequin. “I’m sorry, honey.” He kissed her hair and rubbed her back through her blue-striped blouse. “I wasn’t making fun of last night.”
    He tipped her head back and settled his lips against hers, feeling them go unwillingly from unyielding to pliant. She tasted deliciously of coffee and nut bread and Genna.
    “I just had to tease you a little.” He smiled mischievously and kissed the tip of her upturned nose.
    “Why?” she asked, hurt and anger evident in her tone.
    “’Cause I love it when you turn burgundy.”
    Her anger sputtered and died, and exasperated humor bubbled up inside her. She shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”
    He quirked one eyebrow, a dangerous gleam in his eye. “You’re open to suggestions?”
    “I don’t need suggestions, I have plenty of ideas. And none of them are what you’re thinking,” she told him as she backed out of his embrace. She went to the counter to start returning to their