Extrait

“Scoot forward,” Dante instructed.

Mary didn’t have to be told twice. She shifted forward on his lap so swiftly one would have been forgiven for thinking he’d lit a lighter under her butt. Once she was perched on the very tip of his knees with as little of her behind touching him as possible and the steering wheel digging into her belly, she was able to reach the pedal. She pressed her foot down hard, half on his foot and half on the pedal itself and heard Dante suck in a quick pained breath behind her.

“Sorry,” she muttered, unable to infuse even the slightest bit of apology into her voice. Poke her in the bottom with his body parts, would he? Hmmph. Take that, horny boy.

“Now grasp the steering wheel,” Dante instructed.

Mary raised her hands and grasped the wheel above his hands, careful to avoid touching him.

“Good,” Dante praised. “Now, all you need do is concentrate on keeping your foot on the pedal and steering straight, I will do all the work.”

“That’s what she said,” Mary heard her husband’s old line in her head and smiled weakly, wishing something fierce that he was there right now. He would be the one sitting in Dante’s lap if he was, or no one would be. Joe had been a brilliant man. He would have come up with a way to handle all of this without so much—

“Who said what?” Dante’s confused question interrupted her thoughts and Mary glanced over her shoulder to see that he looked as confused as he sounded.

“What?” she asked uncertainly.

“You said, ‘That’s what she said,’” he explained. “To whom were you referring? And what did she say?”