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realizing she was going to have to do something drastic to convince Mac she was what he wanted.
    “I’m not sure you do.” His spun the seat of her stool until she faced him. “You think you know what you’re getting into?”
    She really didn’t. Her sexual experiences thus far had been pretty conventional and not all that amazing. Nothing that gave her tingles thinking about it later. Not like Mac did. They hadn’t even had sex, but she could think of him and get warm and tingly just like that.
    “Are you going to tell me?” It was the strangest thing, but her heart began racing at the thought of Mac teaching her all the things he liked and wanted. It was fear, in part, along with a healthy dose of excitement.
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    Just My Type
    She didn’t know if Mac liked leather or orgies or some other things she hadn’t even heard of, but what she did know was that Mac would never do anything that would scare or hurt her.
    “Of course not.”
    She pretty much expected that. “Why not?”
    “Sam would kick my ass.”
    Yeah, probably. But she should be worth it, dammit.
    She picked up her half-full glass, considered dumping it on him, and instead removed the umbrella and tipped it back, swallowing the contents in three consecutive swallows. She set the glass back on the bar and swiveled her stool around to face the beach, having to push his knees out of the way. “I guess I’ll have to stick with my videos and books. And the Internet, of course.” She slid off the stool.
    She heard him choke slightly and smiled, refusing to turn. Three seconds later, she felt his hand grab her arm and spin her around.
    “Videos?”
    She just looked at him.
    “What videos, Sara?”
    “The videos I’m using to learn about sex.”
    He grimaced. “Books?”
    “And a few magazines.”
    “Such as?” His voice was gravelly.
    She fought a smile. “Most of the books are about understanding men and relationships, but there are a couple about sex too.”
    “I don’t have to ask about the Internet.”
    She did smile then. “Lots of information there.”
    “Yeah,” he muttered.
    “So I’m sure I’m bound to stumble across something you like eventually.”
    “What the hell is going on, Sara?”
    “I’m working on becoming a woman you want.”
    He cleared his throat. Then he shook his head. “No.”
    “No?” she repeated. Interesting response. “It’s not up for a vote, Mac.”
    “It, um…” He cleared his throat again. “It won’t matter what you learn.” It was her turn to frown at him. “Is that right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then I guess I’ll have to use my new skills on someone else.”
    “The hell you will,” he growled.
    Ah-ha. Not as nonchalant as he’d like her to think.

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    Erin Nicholas
    “Tell you what. I’ll focus on learning it all right now. We can worry about who else gets to benefit later. I have other things to do too. I’ve never been drunk, I’ve never stayed up all night, I’ve never skinny-dipped…”
    He closed his eyes, tipped his head back and pulled a long breath in through his nose.
    “I should just throw you on a plane home right now,” he said to the sky.
    “You’re not going to?”
    He kept his head back. “No. As damned stupid as that is.” He smelled so good. Sara was momentarily distracted by the scent of his laundry detergent, the Tic Tacs he ate to keep from smoking and the underlying scent that was all Mac. He’d hugged her, sat next to her, even danced with her often enough in the past ten years she would know that scent even in a pitch-black room with fifty other men.
    “Why not?”
    He frowned down at her. She knew a lot of people found Mac intimidating when he frowned like that.
    Which was helpful when he was facing down a drunk, angry, abusive husband on a domestic-violence call.
    With her, it had never worked. Probably because she knew Mac was one of the biggest softies ever made.
    “You’d find another way