Are Men From Mars?: Are Men From Mars? / Venus, How Could You?

Smiling to himself over the comment she’d made about the hand grenade, Brad knew she had spent most of the night awake, most likely worried that his male urges would eventually get the better of him. Even when his own internal alarm clock had awakened him at 5:00 a.m., he could tell she was only pretending to be asleep. When he’d switched on the bedside light, he’d seen those long eyelashes of hers flutter ever so slightly like the butterflies she was so passionate about.

He’d been tempted to rattle her chain a little, let her know he was on to her by cuddling up next to her again, until thoughts like those evoked a response that sent him straight to the bathroom for a long, cold shower. In fact, just thinking about her now was enough to make Brad wonder if he shouldn’t come up with a Plan B and back off on the sexual advances. Those damn advances left him teetering on the fence every time he got close to her.

And falling for Maddie Morgan wasn’t an option.

He was a lifer. A military career man. He had made a solemn vow there would never be any room in his life for a serious relationship. Maddie was no exception.

At least, those were Brad’s convictions until the bedroom door opened and she stepped into the room. Then all thought of the Air Force and his convictions evaporated faster than a jet engine vapor trail.

Sweet Maddie, hell! Brad thought. The way her T-shirt was clinging to every curve, all he could do was stare at the two delectable mounds that seemed to be begging for his immediate attention.

“Yes, I have boobs. Now, close your mouth and stop staring at them.”

Brad swallowed, hard. “Hey, you surprised me, that’s all,” he lied.

She didn’t answer. Instead she padded barefoot across the room in his direction and headed straight for the local paper lying on the table. Her eyes narrowed when she picked the paper up and read the bold headlines THE SEARCH FOR MADAM BUTTERFLY CONTINUES.

“Were you expecting your sister to change her mind and call off the search?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I was sure hoping she’d change her mind,” Brad admitted. “If she’d been willing to cooperate, we might have been able to put an end to this predicament.”

When she didn’t comment, Brad changed the subject by motioning to the table he already had set and waiting. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” she said and tossed the paper into the trash can before she seated herself at the table.

Okay, Brad thought as he seated himself opposite her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but she was acting differently this morning. Sure, she had never seemed nervous or too timid to take up for herself, but still, there was something different about her. She was acting more…well, more aloof. Yeah, that was it. Today she seemed detached. Distant.

Which might be a blessing in disguise, Brad decided when his eyes wandered back to the two perfect peaks responsible for the activity that was going on under the napkin he had just placed on his lap.

“I hate to keep harping on your sister,” he said, testing the water a little further, “but you’re certainly being more charitable about her behavior than I would be if I were in your shoes.”

The look she sent him was as unyielding as the material stretched across her chest. “You don’t know the first thing about my sister. Mary Beth has been through some hard times. She craves validation…attention.”

“Don’t we all? In one way or another?”

“Not like Mary Beth,” she argued. “How would you feel if your childhood sweetheart left you standing at the altar in front of your entire hometown?”

Brad tried to answer truthfully. “That’s a difficult question for me. Because standing at the altar is something I never intend to do.”

She blinked. “Nor do I. But you have to admit being left at the altar could certainly shake a person’s confidence.”

Brad was still hung up on her first sentence. What? She never wanted to get married? He didn’t know why that would bother him, but it did, so he asked, “You mean you honestly don’t see a husband and a family in your future?”

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