“Nobody’s paying attention.”
“Nobody except yours truly, and talking about it makes me want to do it, which has predictable anatomical consequences.”
“Predictable anatomical consequences? Is that a legal term?”
“If it’s not, it should be.” He pushed open the door and ushered her into the diner. “And that subject’s officially off-limits.”
“You’re no fun.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I just pick the appropriate time and place. This isn’t it.” He paused inside the door. “Good. The counter has spots available.”
The hostess arrived and seated them immediately as he’d predicted. The stools had backs, which gave them a place for their coats. Ty barely had time to help Whitney off with hers before two water glasses appeared along with napkins and silverware.
He gestured toward the glasses. “See? Counters rock.” He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his stool.
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