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cook anything edible without downing a crate.”
    “I should’ve ordered Mexican,” he said, wondering what extra delicacies a drunken cook would put in his food.
    “Essie downs two crates.” Sierra waved away his concern as she rearranged the menus between the ketchup and mustard bottles. “Now, where were we? That’s right, you were going to tell me why you’re here to interfere in your mom’s relationship.”
    “Are you always this forward?”
    “Are you always this annoying?”
    He held up his hands to ward her off. “Stop with the compliments, you’re embarrassing me.”
    “You’ll be more embarrassed if you try to meddle in your mom’s life. She’s in love, can’t you accept it and leave them alone?”
    “In love ? At her age?” He shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    Her eyes narrowed, their sapphire brilliance dimming to blazing slits.
    “What’s so ridiculous about love?” She snapped her fingers, as if coming up with the answer. “Let me guess, you’re an expert.
    Her fingers made air-quotes. “I bet you have a string of long-term relationships to base your judgment on. And I’m sure you’re the type of guy who falls in love easily, opening his heart to a woman in every way.”
    “Are you finished?”
    He sat back, wondering where all that had come from. Sure, she’d probably lose money if things soured and his mom wanted a refund but where did she get off analyzing him?
    He may not be an expert on love but he knew way too much about marrying a person from the wrong side of the tracks to prove a point and he’d be damned if he watched his mother make the same mistake he had all those years ago.
    “Finished? You wish.” She leaned toward him, the action squeezing her breasts together and he struggled to keep his attention on her face. “I’m getting warmed up.”
    “Don’t bother. This has nothing to do with you.”
    He slammed his palms on the table, satisfied by the widening of her baby-blues, the flicker of awareness as he leaned forward. “And thanks for the free psychoanalysis. If you ever ditch the dating business, there’s a whole new career waiting for you. Not.”
    He’d always wondered if the rumor about redheads’ tempers was a fallacy and assumed he was about to find out as she flushed, her skin almost matching her spectacular hair.
    “Here you go, mate. A meal fit for a king. And his queen.” With a suggestive wink aimed in Sierra’s direction, Flo placed two plates filled with enough food to feed the entire Western seaboard in front of them. “I’ll be right back with your drinks. Enjoy.”
    He stared at his plate and the burger order that had morphed into ribs, chicken wings, onion rings, coleslaw, guacamole-filled roast potato and corn on the cob, enough to feed three people.
    Rather than cause a fuss he picked up his knife and fork, intent on filling his stomach rather than facing the wrath of the woman opposite.
    “Count yourself lucky, Slick. You may have won this battle but the war is only just beginning.”
    By the determined glint in her beautiful eyes he didn’t doubt it for a second.

 
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    Cupid’s Dating Tips for the Enlightened Male
    Combat stupidity: learn when to keep your lips zipped (and your pants too.)
     
    “Make yourself at home. I’ll put the coffee on.” Sierra slipped off her stilettos and padded barefoot into the kitchen, cringing with every step. Inviting the devil back to her place had been a dumbass move.
    He’d baited her, teased her and confounded her the whole evening. And she’d loved every minute of it.
    Sighing, she switched on the percolator and rubbed the back of her neck, well aware Marc Fairley stimulated her on more levels than any man she’d ever met. Damn him.
    It wasn’t just the GOLF thing. If it was, she could’ve putted her way to laid-back fun and moved on.
    No, it had more to do with his touch of arrogance underlined with a hint of vulnerability, the depth of caring