Zero to Sixty

by Marie Harte

  She wasn’t following. “I’m confused. You don’t like poodles?”

  He crossed his eyes. “Are you going out with him again or not?”

  “Why is that your business?”

  He paused. “I guess it’s not. But I think it’s a little tacky of you to date me and this guy at the same time.”

  She frowned. “We’re not dating.”

  “Oh good. So it’s just me?”

  “No. I meant, you and I, we’re not dating. And besides, dating doesn’t imply anything intimate. It’s okay to date more than one person at a time, if we were even dating, which we’re not.”

  He gave her a sad look she didn’t buy, because his deep brown eyes were still filled with amusement. “Our bonding over jazz and your wussy date meant nothing to you? I’m crushed.”

  Her lips twitched despite herself. “Are you done?”

  “Ah. There’s that smile.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his massive arm and walked her back to the signup sheet. “Okay, I’m done harassing you. Mostly. So starting Friday evening, we run a three-part self-defense program. Come to the class. In all seriousness, the stuff we’re going to teach could really help if you get into a problem.” He gave her a look.

  “What now?”

  “Hell.” He blew out a breath. “I overheard you last week talking about some handsy guy. So I’m just going to say it. If you’re going out with Chuck again, make sure you meet in a public place.”

  “Thank you, Dad.” She tried to tug her hand free from the rocks he called biceps and a forearm, but he gripped her fingers and wouldn’t let go. “His name is Charles,” she corrected. “But I’m so glad to have a big strong man around to tell me what to do. However have I managed myself for the past thirty years without you?” She batted her eyelashes, aware she was interacting with Landon in a way unlike the manner she typically used when speaking with men.

  Not cut and dried or soberly attentive. She thought she might be actually…flirting.

  To her bemusement, she hadn’t had such a fun conversation since the last time they’d traded barbs.

  “Thirty, huh? Not bad, Doc. You have the legs of a twenty-year-old.”

  “You’re a jerk, you know that?” Inwardly preening at his compliment, she still felt offended on behalf of thirty-year-olds everywhere. “I love being thirty.” And single. And childless. Sigh.

  Her five-year plan continued to tick away.

  “I love being thirty-four.” He shrugged. “What I don’t love is wasting time in the gym.” He glanced around. “You done working out?”

  “I ducked into the bathroom to avoid my loud cousin. But I think he went home.”

  “If you hadn’t been avoiding him, what would you have been doing?”

  She sighed. “Toning up. My triceps need work.” She glanced from her scrawny arms to his, envying his strength.

  “Come with me.”

  Twenty minutes later, bent over an exercise ball, she finished doing a set of T raises. “My back is on fire.”

  “And you’re all sweaty.” He grinned. “I like the look, Doc.”

  “Do you think you might call me Ava?”

  “I’ll think about it.” He paused. “Doc.”

  Gavin Donnigan joined them. “Um, Landon, you seem to be doing my job.” Gavin looked like a dark-haired Landon, but with gray eyes and a slightly leaner build. He smiled. “Hello there. Need some help with your routine?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” She put the weights down and groaned as she started to stand, then gasped when Landon lifted her to her feet. “Warn a girl, next time.”

  “You don’t weigh a thing.”

  Nice to hear, but his hands on her waist were doing odd things to her insides. She stepped back, flustered, and saw his brother grinning at them. “Actually, Gavin, I could use—”

  “We’re busy. Go away.” Landon nudged his brother in the opposite direction. “I think Michelle wants you.”

  Gavin glanced over his shoulder and groaned. Ava couldn’t blame him. She’d talked to Michelle before. The salon owner seemed nice enough, until she caught the scent of a single man in his prime. Then she followed the scent of fresh meat and attacked like a rabid she-shark. At the moment, the woman was shooting Ava some unfriendly looks.

  “Oh hell,” Gavin complained, seeing the woman coming their way. “Block for me, Bro. Please? She’s stressing me out, and I’m trying to be all zen. Hey, if you’d rather I went out with her to a bar or something I—”

  “I’ll handle her,” Landon growled. He stared down at Ava. “You, wait here.”

  She watched him walk away, wondering what he’d do if she just left. “He likes to give orders.”

  Gavin snorted. “Does he. But don’t blame the Corps. He’s been like that my entire life. The Marine Corps just gave him an outlet to be the controlling jackass he’s always been.”

  “I hear you.” They watched Landon guide Michelle to one of the female trainers, her grabby, skeletal fingers clutched around his meaty forearm. “Michelle seems to like him well enough.”

  “More power to her,” Gavin said. He looked down at her. Though average in height, around these Donnigans, Ava felt tiny. “But I get the impression big brother has his sights set somewhere else.”

  She didn’t want to answer him, because honestly, she had no idea what Landon wanted. He wasn’t her type. And she’d never been one for casual hookups. Maybe it was time to put her cards on the table and get him to commit to an answer or two.

  She and Gavin chatted about the weather and the growing crowd at the gym. Those still working on their New Year’s resolutions hadn’t faded into the woodwork yet, but Gavin thought it was only a matter of time.

  When Landon returned to them minutes later, she’d made a decision. “Landon, can I talk to you please? In private?”

  He glanced cautiously from her to Gavin, who shrugged. “I have a session with Mrs. Litton. Later, and thanks for Michelle.” He nodded to Ava. “See you, Ava.”

  She watched him go, then turned to Landon.

  His wary look and taut stance pleased her for some reason. “Let’s lay it all out.”

  “Let’s.” He crossed his arms over his massive chest. Defensive.

  She liked that too. Made her feel more in control, and she needed that around this man. “What do you want from me?”

  “What?”

  “I asked what you want from me. You’re a handsome man. You have large muscles that most women seem to like.”

  “Most women?” Now he was frowning. “What about you?”

  “I doubt you hurt for companionship. Michelle seemed to like you well enough. So why are you coming on to me?”

  “Now, Ava. Let’s get real here. You’re a beautiful woman who’s currently on the dating scene. Is it so odd I’d like a chance to get to know you?”

  “Well, um, I guess that’s an acceptable response.” She paused. “But you’re not my type.”

  He blinked. “I’m not? Why not? What’s your type, exactly?”

  “Well, you’re bigger than most men I date.” She wasn’t surprised to see him preen at what hadn’t been intended as a compliment. “I like my dates more cerebral, not so physical.”

  “You calling me stupid?”

  She blushed. Again. “No, of course not. It’s just, in this environment, you don’t seem so scholarly.”

  “I told you I work for a logistics company. I have to understand their vast array of spreadsheets and databases. And even with these fat, ugly fingers”—he held up long, hard hands that appeared surprisingly graceful—“I can type into one of them newfangled computers.”

  The hick accent annoyed her. “I’m not trying to talk down to you. But you act like the very antithesis of what I’m looking for in a man.” Another mental rundown of her five-year plan with its addendum of the r
ight qualities in a mate flashed before her eyes.

  “So let’s have it. What’s on your checklist?”

  “Do we really need to do this here, now?” She glanced around, hoping not to see any patients. She always felt self-conscious in her daily life, away from the office. As if she shouldn’t have a persona outside of Dr. Rosenthal.

  “You’d rather go back to my place?” He shrugged. “Sure thing, Doc.”

  She blew out a frustrated breath. “I prefer a smaller man, one less than six feet, if possible. He should be well-read, a gentleman, well-mannered, and soft-spoken.”

  “Does he have strings you can pull? A lever for his mouth to open while you throw your voice?” he teased.

  Apparently he wasn’t taking her seriously. The man met none of the qualities on her list, though some women might find him appealing with that large frame and overbearing manner, she supposed. Oh hell. He was throw-down handsome. There. I said it. It galled her to admit it, even to herself, because he was wrong for her in so many other ways.

  “Keep going,” he prodded. “What else are you looking for in a man?”

  “That’s it.” Wasn’t that enough?

  “Like, does he need to be rich?”

  “No, of course not. I make my own money.”

  “Uh-huh.” He stared at her. “What about looks? You said you want him small and mealy.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “So yes or no on the sex appeal? Do you want him super handsome or what? Or are looks not that important to you, being cerebral and all?”

  She didn’t like him poking fun at her. “You asked the question. It’s not my fault if you don’t like my answers.”

  “True enough.” He nodded, surprising her. “But you haven’t answered all my questions. Well? Handsome, ugly, does it matter?”

  “No. I mean, I suppose there should be a mutual physical attraction.” To taunt him, she added, “If we’re going to have children together, we should be sexually compatible.”

  He seemed to pull back, as she’d expected he would at talk of babies. She didn’t know any man who didn’t get a hunted look on his face at the mention of procreation. Sex for pleasure’s sake was all fine and dandy. But add the responsibility of a child to the mix and most men turned the other way.

  She crossed her arms, waiting for him to do just that, and feeling a little disappointed she’d chased him away so easily.

  But Landon being Landon, he stood tall, watching her from his formidable six-plus frame. “Kids, huh? You’re hunting for a baby-maker?”

  “That’s crudely put, but I suppose you’re right. I expect my future husband to be more than a ‘baby-maker’ though.”

  “You think Charles will give you all that?”

  She felt a sudden dislike for all his probing questions. “I don’t know him well enough yet to know if he’ll suit or not. That’s why we’re dating.”

  The dark look on Landon’s face cleared. “Right. So that’s why we should date. You need to weed out your baby-making candidates.”

  “Will you stop referring to them as baby-makers?”

  “Plus, you can see if I fit your other criteria. We know I seem to be more man than you can handle, physically. But you’ve got nice tone.” He looked her over and nodded. “I think we’ll fit together when it counts.”

  She just watched him. “Seriously? This is how you go about getting a date?”

  “A second date. We already had our first kiss, after all.”

  “That was not a kiss! It was barely a peck, and I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it either. But hey, now that we’re on the same page, I think we should go out again as soon as possible.”

  “What? Why?” How had she lost command of this conversation?

  “So you can either immediately check me off your list or add me to it. I mean, you’re a psychiatrist, right?”

  “I’m a clinical psychologist. There’s a difference.” A big difference that he apparently didn’t understand.

  “You study social science.”

  “Well, my field has social science application, you could say.”

  “Right. So as a scientist, you know there are exceptions to every rule. Just because I’m physically intimidating doesn’t mean I’ll mentally outdo you.”

  She fumed. “I never said you were intimidating.”

  “Yet you avoided me for three days.”

  “Two,” she muttered, annoyed that he had to be right about everything. Technically, only Monday and Tuesday had passed, because today—Wednesday—they stood talking.

  Rather, she stood being annoyed.

  “Right, two.” He grinned. “So you admit you were avoiding me.”

  “I sincerely have no idea if this approach works for you with other women.”

  “What approach?”

  “Annoying me until I want to brain you.” She gave serious consideration to the tiny hand weights by her sides.

  He chuckled. “It’s funny, but my sister has the same response around me.” He leaned closer. “But not the ladies.”

  “As in plural. Yet another strike against you. I require loyalty and fidelity in a mate.”

  “Me too. See? We have something more in common than just a mutual lust thing going on.”

  Sadly, he was right. She swallowed her retort, knowing he’d see through any denial. For some odd reason, she felt a real spark for this stubborn male. “What exactly do you suggest we do about this mutual admiration?”

  He studied her. “Huh. Hadn’t thought you’d admit you want me.”

  She sighed.

  “But since you did”—he smiled—“how about dinner? Just you and me getting to know each other without Chuck between us.”

  She gritted her teeth, not sure why she allowed him to irritate her. Because that annoyance excited her, in a weird way. She truly engaged with him, on a level greater than that of doctor/patient or online date. She…liked…the conversational challenge he represented. She had to be on her toes, meeting a surprisingly intelligent adversary halfway.

  Adversary… No, not an enemy. A test, a prick to her intellectual ego. A strong male presence that intrigued the female powerhouse inside her. And, well, he did have a nice ass.

  She allowed herself to be charmed by his arrogance. “You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever worn me down this much into a yes. Not even Elliot, and he’s considered a god when it comes to annoying women.”

  “I thought he was gay.”

  “He is. And that really annoys women because he’s so cute and fun to go shopping with.”

  Landon chuckled. Then he caressed her cheek with one long finger. “Okay, Doc. So it’s a date. After the self-defense class, which is Friday at seven. Then we’ll get something to eat in town. Okay?”

  She didn’t want to appear too easy. “If I have to.”

  “You do.”

  She gave him a salute. “Yes, sir.”

  His eyes darkened, and that grin he shot her made her feel hunted. “Oh yeah, that’ll do. See you Friday, Doc.”

  She watched him leave, wondering why her brains seemed to be sharing space with her pruning girlie parts lately. Oh man. I think I might need therapy. A date with Landon Donnigan? She glanced down at herself. What are you girls thinking?

  Chapter 5

  Thursday evening, Landon sat in the kitchen, watching his brothers horse around. Their mom had to work late, so their father had invited them over for some male bonding. Considering Landon had nothing better to do until tomorrow night, he’d looked forward to a meal he wouldn’t have to cook himself. Plus, his dad had skills when it came to food.

  Van had been the family cook for years while their mother kept order around the house. Linda Donnigan was a clean freak—where he’d gotten the tendency himself, accordin
g to his messy siblings.

  Gavin shot him the finger, for no apparent reason, when their dad wasn’t looking. Theo saw it and snickered.

  “So, Theo. Where are you working now?” Landon asked. The little punk had managed to avoid him last Sunday.

  “I’m delivering pizzas. But that’s only for a few more days, until they close down. Then I gotta find something else, I guess.” He shrugged, his lanky frame all skin and bones, though God knew he put away enough food to fit those size-twelve boats on his feet.

  “You knew it would only be temporary when you took the job,” their father commented from his spot behind the stove along the counter.

  The kitchen was huge, and they sat at the large island in the middle while their dad cooked. With his back to them, he couldn’t see Theo’s resentful expression.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  Theo and their father butted heads, which always amused Landon, because they seemed so much alike. Gavin, though, had the most in common with Van. Like carbon copies of each other, down to their looks. Theo looked like Van too, but he obviously had a lot of Linda in him. Stubborn to the bone, that kid.

  “So what’s the deal? Our cousins not giving you any love?” They had one cousin in town who owned a construction business with their Uncle James, another two who owned their own plumbing business, and a fourth who was a financial genius who’d given Hope a job. Landon wondered if Cam had room for another Donnigan, because Theo sure as shit needed the help.

  Theo shrugged. “Mike and Uncle James are good, but I got bored hammering crap. And Flynn and Brody are fun to work with, but they’re always making me go under the crawlspaces and do the jobs they don’t like.” He shuddered. “Do you have any idea what kind of stuff sticks in toilets?”

  Landon and Gavin shared a grin. The McCauley cousins were good sports, but their families had always been competitive. So this discussion was a great reminder to think up more toilet jokes before the next big family get-together.

  “What is your thing, Son?” Van looked over his shoulder and frowned. “You’re twenty years old. Time to think to the future.”