Free Prescription For Love (The Kingsley Series) by Brandi Kennedy

types. They may look bad, but I bet they’re all softies under that gristle."
     
    "Well that's all fine and dandy," Eva muttered, “but don't you get on that thing, you hear?"
     
    With the sounds of laughter in her ears, Cameron shook her head. "Aww, mom, that's cute. But he hasn't exactly invited me." She winked devilishly. “Not yet anyway.”
     
    "Hmph," Eva replied, unable to contain her grin as the other women continued laughing.
     
    ***
     
    Walking through the door to what she thought of as her starter home, Cameron kicked off her sandals and admired again the wild ice blue toenail polish she'd chosen as part of her pedicure. Ignoring the fact that she'd chosen the color because it was so like Mac's eyes, she hung her keys on the hook by the door and moved into the living room, pulling her cell phone from her pocket and turning it on.
     
    "Voice-mail already! All I did was get a pedicure with the girls," she grumbled, watching the boot screen on her phone give way to the regular home screen, and light up with the voice-mail indicator. Sighing, she tapped the on-screen button and held the tiny cell phone to her ear.
     
    "Well, look at that." Mac's voice rumbled through the speaker, a hint of laughter in his tone. Cameron froze, her lips curving up in a grin as she listened. "I did it. I mustered up - what was it that you said I needed? Balls? Well, I've mustered up the balls to call you, and there, you didn't answer. I guess the balls are in your court now, pretty lady. Let's see if you have the fortitude to juggle them."
     
    She laughed and played the message again. "Feisty one, then, aren't you?" she muttered to herself, pressing the icon that led to her missed call list. She tapped his number, and wandered to her room as she listened to the ringing on the line.
     
    "Hello?" he asked, when he answered the call.
     
    "Fortitude? You want to know if I've got fortitude?" Cameron laughed.
     
    "Ah, the pretty lady from the diner! Well, I've proven I've got balls, I guess," he laughed. "It was your turn to prove something."
     
    "I see," Cameron said. "Shall I mark this as a tie on my scoreboard then?" She piled several pillows against the upholstered headboard and flopped against them, stretching her legs out and crossing her ankles.
     
    "I'd rather you didn't, actually," he answered, sobering. "I prefer not to keep score in a relationship. It's a long-term philosophy; I always say I'd rather be happy than always be right."
     
    "Oh a therapist, a biker boy, and now a philosopher. You are really quite the catch then, aren't you? All those personalities in there; I’d have all the variety I can handle, all in one man," Cameron laughed, twirling a dark curl around one finger.
     
    "Oh yes, the women are just beating at my door. I tell you, some days, I don't know how I fight them all off. Vultures, I tell you; they all want a piece of this." His laughter rumbled through the phones, flowing into Cameron's ear and igniting a flame in her blood.
     
    "I bet they're just trying to get through you to your son," she laughed. "A tiny version of you has got to be just the cutest thing on the planet. What's his name?"
     
    He was quiet for a while, long enough for Cameron to wonder if he was still there. She held the phone away from her face, checking that the call timer was still counting. It was. "Mac?" she asked.
     
    "His name is Logan," he answered, his voice steady and quiet.
     
    "Look, Mac, I'm sorry. If you don't want to talk about him, I understand, and --"
     
    "I don't mind," he interrupted. "I'm a parent; of course I want to talk about him. It's just that on the dating scene, most women prefer that I pretend he doesn't exist. I'm not used to women asking about him, about that part of my life."
     
    "I bet you get lots of willowy blondes that want to know your favorite color and what's your sign, huh?" Cameron laughed nervously, slipping the button loose in the waist of her jeans. Slipping the zipper down,