After Hours Bundle Read Free Page B

to clone a single-cell organism like a man. I’m thinking we’ll be able to order men from a catalogue within about five years. I could be really into that.”
    Shirlie wrinkled her nose. “That would take all the fun out of life. What about the thrill of the chase?”
    Poor thing. She was still young enough that she got excited about the whole silly mating dance. “What thrill? Shirlie, I’d get a huge charge out of just ordering up a man without the burping or farting gene. Or the beer-gut gene! Can you imagine the possibilities? You might even be able to special-order one with an on-off switch. Or even better, an erect-limp switch!”
    â€œEeuuwww.” Shirlie’s expression was priceless.
    Peg stuffed an unruly curl behind her ear and said, “Oh, right. You’re still too young to have had more than a five-minute-long relationship, so maybe none of these issues has come up. Or, uh, refused to come up, as the case may be.” She produced some fiendish laughter. “Mwah-ha-ha-ha, my pretty! Nothin’ but good times ahead.” She winked.
    â€œPeggy, I wouldn’t date a…nonstarter.”
    Peg scooped more bottles and tubes out of a box, her tongue in her cheek. “Well, here’s the thing, honey. You don’t always know at first. For example, take my advice and stay far, far away from any guy who’s on steroids.”
    â€œOh, my God! You don’t mean that Eddie…”
    Peg nodded. “I could write a book called Limp Lovin’ . The man popped so many pills that his dong had turned to linguine.”
    Shirlie’s expression was priceless. “Hey, at least you know he wasn’t cheating on you, right?”
    Peg choked. “True. Not without a Popsicle stick and some electrical tape, anyway.” She didn’t feel in the least bad about revealing her ex’s dark secret, since the creep had actually swapped the stone in her engagement ring for a cubic zirconia. Which brought her to another piece of advice for Shirlie. “And, hon, take it from me—don’t date any guy who shows an affinity for gambling.”
    â€œO-kaaaay.”
    â€œThen there are the ones who hate women, even though they like to have sex. And the ones who have inferiority complexes and have to bring you down so they can feel superior. And worse, there are—”
    Shirlie clapped her hands over her ears and moaned. “Stop! Look, maybe it is a good idea for you to stay home tonight. I just want to go dancing and have a good time, Miss Wet Blanket.”
    Peg grinned at her. “Yeah, well, it’s better than being Mrs. Wet Blanket, married to a guy who’s so cheap that his wallet creaks when he has to open it. Or—”
    Shirlie was beginning to look a little wild-eyed when the door to After Hours opened and in walked The Man. Her eyes went from wild to glazed over within a nanosecond.
    Peg observed this while running her own eyes over The Man. He was six feet, two inches of gym-terrorized perfection, she had to give him that. His wide, solid torso formed a perfect V as it tapered into his slim waist, which was the only thing slim about him. He had the biceps of a young Arnold Schwartzenegger, shoulders that made even Peg want to cram a fist into her mouth and long, lean-looking legs. She couldn’t see his backside, but she’d be willing to bet that it was Grade A prime beef.
    The Man smiled at her, displaying even white teeth.
    Just as a spark of sexual awareness shot through her belly and zoomed lower, she recovered her mental capacity. Steroids, she sang to herself. The guy is so bulked up he looks like he’s made of rubber. He’d bounce if you threw him on the pavement. And he’s probably a knucklehead, to boot.
    Peg pulled her white lab coat closed against his gaze. There was something vaguely familiar about him, which disconcerted her. She didn’t like his air of cool appraisal