Satellite of Love Read Free

lipstick. Her brunette hair was cut in a bob and pulled back off her face. He hadn’t seen what with yet, but he bet it was a bow or some kind of flower. The dark blue dress crisscrossed over her perfect, unenhanced bust, creating some really intriguing cleavage.
    Really intriguing. He couldn’t see her legs around the bumper of the car, or her shoes. He wanted to check out her shoes and, more importantly, the legs that led into them. As he recalled, the hem fell right to her knees.
    “Sorry I took so long.” He tore his gaze away from where he could have seen her legs if he had x-ray vision, and met hers. She didn’t seem to be on to him. “I had to make a call.”
    “No problem.” She shook her head and her cute little bob bounced around her shoulders.
    “I’ll lock up and we can go.” He ducked into the waiting room to lock the door and turn off the lights. The sooner he got out of here, the sooner he was going to get a look at her legs. “Which pizza place do you like better? Napoli or Mama Lena’s? I like Napoli’s.”
    “So do I, but I don’t like to eat there.” She sounded sorry as she followed him to the car door.
    He glanced over his shoulder. Her pretty, small mouth was drawn into a frown. “Why?”
    “They’re always screaming at each other, did you notice? The food is wonderful, but the brothers who own the place are always arguing or yelling at the kids waiting tables.” She shivered. “It just makes me uncomfortable.”
    “Tony always gets carry out. I guess there’s a reason.” He opened the passenger door of the Satellite. “Mama Lena’s it is.”
    She sat down on the seat sideways and twisted forward like a lady. His mom used to get into cars that way when she wore a dress and he’d never seen any other woman do it. Swallowing at the unfamiliar rush of mixed heat and uncertainty, he opened the bay door so he could back out. This woman was not a score-seeking groupie. Maureen Donnelly qualified as a nice girl.
    And he was already lying to her.
    Not lying really, but not filling her in on a few details. Like he wasn’t an auto mechanic and in a couple of weeks, he’d be off on the one ring circus currently known as the Bayonet Ball Tour. Like the next time she saw him after this, he’d probably be on MTV. If she even watched that. She struck him as a History Channel type.
    Did it really matter? He was taking her out for a pizza, not marrying her. For one night, he could just be Michael, the guy who was buying her a pizza, taking her home and maybe getting a kiss on the doorstep instead of Bear D’Amato, drummer for Touchstone.
    He backed the car out and closed the garage door. “So what is it you do?”
    “I’m a teacher. I teach second grade at Wilson.”
    “Really?” Teacher. Little kid teacher yet. That fit. “You like it?”
    “Yeah, it’s great, but I’m looking forward to summer vacation.”
    “Oh?”
    “February is kinda long and Spring Break is late this year so we’ve had this really long stretch with no days off. It gets a little tiring, for the teachers and the kids.”
    “I always thought the teachers were annoyed when we had days off.” He glanced at her. She had half turned toward him with her purse in her lap, as if she were interested in the conversation, not as if she were amortizing him.
    “Nope. We’re all shooing the kids out the door and making plans for our days off.”
    “And what do you like to do on your days off?” What did regular people do on their days off? Most of his time was spent in the studio, on tour or in between and in between was only a couple of days here and there. Not that it was bad, he did have the greatest job in the world, but it was a twenty-four seven gig. Even last year’s sabbatical had been spent analyzing what had gone wrong with the previous album so they could avoid it this time.
    “The usual stuff. I read, watch TV, garden a little.”
    “Go out on blind dates.”
    She groaned. “Yeah. I should have given