Calculated Exposure Read Online Free Page B

“If you weren’t so brazen about it, going around with your hair let down like a loose woman, perhaps men like me wouldn’t feel so inclined to help ourselves.”
    Shock registered on her face for a moment and Curt, for once in his life, worried he’d offended the woman. Why did he care? He never cared. He hadn’t even gone as far as he was prone to. Normally, he might have suggested she braid her hair, and when she asked why, he’d tell her doing so would keep it out of his face when she was on top of him.
    She studied his face, probably trying to ascertain if he were pulling her leg, so he wriggled his eyebrows.
    That did it. Tension receded. She laughed a deep, throaty laugh that made her full breasts jiggle beneath her clingy pink shirt.
    Jesus. He cast his gaze toward the ceiling and prayed for restraint. That was a new prayer for him.
    She was shaped like a pin-up girl without all the Photoshopping they got nowadays. Perfection in analog, she didn’t need digital correction.
    “Brazen, huh?”
    He returned his gaze to the food spread and reached for the mashed potato spoon. “Oh yeah. Good girls don’t go ’round with all their hair hanging out like that. Maybe a couple of plaits wound ’round your head will temper the effect. Or perhaps a bonnet, darlin’?”
    “Say that around Carla and she’d smack you.” Grant joined them at the island holding a little plastic dish with three partitions, each decorated with a different type of plane: Adam’s plate.
    “Yeah, Carla probably would. She’s got a mean right hook.”
    “Braids and bonnets, huh?” Erica snorted. “I never said I was a good girl. I’ll leave my hair as it is.”
    As she moved on down the island toward the meatloaf, Curt and Grant shared a wide-eyed look. Grant knew what Curt did: no one was as brazen as Curt. Or at least they’d thought. Erica may have been even more scandalizing with her knowing smirks and flirtatious winks, but she had far more finesse. A woman’s touch. Class, even.
    Well then .
    Curt spooned potatoes onto his plate, plus an additional portion which would have been Emma’s, and moved down the line right as Carla returned with the tot.
    “All better. Had a quick Skype with Nonna and all is well,” Carla announced.
    “How are things back in Raleigh?” Grant asked.
    “Fine, as far as I could tell. Mom thinks my due date is wrong and swears I’m going to go late this time. I might have accidentally pulled the router cord.”
    “Oh, that’s cold,” Erica said with a giggle.
    “That’s ’cause you don’t know my mother. She’s this mouthy Italian who thinks her opinions are edicts that have been issued straight from God’s lips. She believes He has appointed her as His holy delivery vessel. I tolerate her fine in small doses, but beyond that we’re not simpatico.”
    “Must be easier being all the way over here.”
    “Exactly. Easy, but…” They all turned to watch Carla shrug. “Lonely.”
    Grant set Adam’s plate onto his tray and pulled his wife into a hug. “Sorry, honey.”
    “Don’t apologize. It was my choice, too.”
    “So, how did you two end up settling down here and not in the US?” Erica asked as she picked up a roll of utensils.
    Grant returned to the island with a second dish–a pink one. “Believe it or not, there isn’t much demand Stateside for an expert of Irish history. In Ireland…”
    “Gotcha.” Erica carried her plate to the table and assessed the seating arrangement.
    “Sit on the side nearest the window. That way I can ogle you close up,” Curt said. Might as well go for the gusto.
    She sucked her teeth. “Who could refuse an offer like that?” Still, she sat at one of the two chairs nearest the picture window and unfolded her napkin onto her lap.
    Curt slipped in behind her and gave her hair a flick as he passed.
    “You break it, you buy it,” she joked.
    “What’s the cost? Might have some Euros in my piggy bank.”
    “Don’t like that conversion