L.A. Caveman Read Online Free

finger over her hip and Stanna had no doubt she was
thinking of times when she had "threatened" the males of the
species. But for all of her obvious charms, she still hadn't found
Mr. Wonderful, either.
    Stanna surreptitiously evaluated
Telly's looks: short, spiky blond hair, perfect makeup, voluptuous
body. And, of course, excellent taste in clothes.
    Very different from her own minimalist
makeup style. Her single tribute to face paint was her dark pink
lipstick, and the lack of other makeup made hers a "French" style,
she’d read somewhere. Which sounded way more glamorous than she
was. She kept her straight, thick, blunt-cut blond hair clean and
frizz-free.
    Her body was not nearly curvy enough,
she compared, critical. But she was happy enough with her bod.
Since she'd been an adult she'd never been confused for a boy.
Telly was better endowed, maybe, but she always moaned about men
gawking at her more generous chest long before they noticed she had
a brain.
    Stanna considered Telly's comment that
Jake might feel threatened, for all of two seconds, then shook her
head. "He's too in-control for that. Like nothing could faze him."
She stared at a spot in the cream couch and tried to imagine the
strong, powerfully athletic man who was her boss feeling
threatened. She failed utterly. She was unaware of Telly eyeing her
speculatively, with a mischievous smile curving her flawlessly
lipsticked mouth.
    "You could..." Telly paused
dramatically and then continued with the seriousness of a scientist
announcing a medical breakthrough, "try tickling him."
    Stanna greeted that outrageous
statement with an unladylike snort of laughter. She felt her face
completely relax at the thought of tickling Jake. "That would be
about as effective as tickling a marble statue."
    Telly paused her hand in mid
grape-delivery and raised one thin brown eyebrow theatrically.
"He's that good-looking?"
    "Believe me," Stanna responded
emphatically, feeling her face tighten once more, "good-looking
means nothing when the personality is poison. And this man has RAID
running through his veins. Regarding women, anyway. I don't know
how I'm going to work under him for another two years." What was it
about the man that just the thought of him made her skin crawl
interestingly and her muscles tense as if in anticipation of a
fight?
    "From the look on your face when you
were thinking of tickling him," Telly needled, "you wouldn't mind
working... under… him too terribly much." Stanna glowered at her
roommate, punching a crocheted beige pillow to emphasize her next
words. "No! No matter what kind of pheromones he oozes that let me
ever even consider... that... which I have not , just for the
record... but even if I had ..." She paused for a deep
breath, trying to compose her words. It was tough, trying to
explain why she could never be intimate with Jake, and she wasn't
sure why. The man was like some kind of a wicked demon, for crying
out loud. Absolutely off limits.
    Telly smiled affectionately and said,
"Enough about that." Stanna nodded in agreement, waving her hands
in the air dismissively, as if to wave away a bad odor. "My guy
situation is exactly the same as it has been since I moved down
here, since we won't count that ogre-in-residence at work. What
about you? Any fun prospects?"
    "Only if you think putting together
rare sci-fi monster models for 3 hours is fun." In answer to
Stanna's questioning look, Telly grumbled, “Don’t ask. Where, I
would love to know," she paused dramatically, and Stanna joined her
in the little ritual, "are the really good men?" They gave
each other matching lascivious grins. "But, not too good."
    "They're all home reading my column,"
Stanna quipped.
    Telly looked at her with interest. "Do
you ever get fan mail from them? With pictures, maybe?"
    Stanna thought back. "That's funny...
I never thought about it, but I haven't received even one fan
letter from a guy. I got a couple of emails from grateful
girlfriends who read the