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out at five foot nothing, sporting a mop
of unruly red hair, and a scowl that would frighten the devil
himself. A real woman, with real love in her heart. He could work
with that.
    Jordon smiled at her. Her eyes flared and he
must have surprised her because she dropped her hand and stepped
back, careful to keep the kid, who topped her by at least a head
and a half, behind her.
    "Are you crazy"? She asked, clearly
believing he was.
    "Apparently."
    The kid spoke, drawing Jordon's attention
reluctantly away from the elf's widened blue-green eyes.
    "I'm sorry about your shirt. I'll have it
cleaned for you. Your tie too." The kid sounded sincere. He was
polite, about sixteen, and he managed to hold Jordon's gaze without
wavering, something men twice his age had trouble doing. Jordon was
impressed despite himself. The kid's demeanor spoke well of him and
the elf.
    Until she spoke again. "This isn't your
fault, Jesse. He's the one who was standing in front of a glass
door with his eyes closed." She captured Jordon's gaze, narrowed
her eyes, and sweetened her false smile. "Just how drunk were you
last night, and why are you walking it off in an art museum? You
look like someone tried to strangle you with that tie. Shouldn't
you be sleeping it off near the airport instead of growling at
strangers?"
    Well she got the strange part right and she
wasn't far off on the tie. Even so, Jordon didn't like mouthy
women. He especially disliked sawed-off ones with more bravado than
sense, even if they sported ocean colored eyes, a mouth meant for
sex, and enough curves for a man to hold onto even if he had to
pick her up to kiss her.
    "Reed, please, I hit him with the door.
Remember? If I hadn't tripped, he wouldn't be wearing my breakfast.
Give the guy a break." Jesse said.
    "Seems to me he shouldn't be standing with
his eyes closed right in front of a door."
    "He's the one with the ruined clothes. This
really isn't his fault. He doesn't look or smell like he's been out
all night. Why are you being so hard on him? It's not like you at
all."
    Jordon heard enough. The art museum needed
to post a sign saying: No red-headed elven harpies with great
eyes escorting yogurt throwing, overgrown teenagers allowed.
Violators will be spanked by the throw-ee .
    He sent one narrow eyed searing glance
toward the leprechaun from Hades, nodded toward the kid and turned
and walked away without a word. What was the point? He'd had enough
stress for one day. He couldn't wait to start at Sensei Schwartz's
dojo. He really needed to hit something soon.
    He heard rapid footsteps behind him before a
small hand gripped his arm. He let her stop him because it was the
most efficient thing to do. He was not going to engage with her
though. Jordon couldn't see any up-side to that conversation. He
didn't turn around, he made her come around to him.
    "Jesse is right. I am sorry I acted so
rudely". She said, sounding like she meant it. "I saw your thousand
dollar suit, and something inside me shouted, "Warning, jerk
alert"."
    Jordon couldn't decide if he should continue
to be offended by her outrageousness, or laugh. The sincerity on
her face as she insulted him, coupled with the twinkle in her eyes,
made him smile. He had a few warning bells of his own going off
inside his head, but surprisingly, his headache was gone.
    "I am sorry." she said again.
    She didn't sound like she believed herself,
and the flush on her cheeks gave proof to her lie. He quirked a
brow, and the flush deepened. She held his gaze though and stuck
one foot out, like she was gearing up to argue the point. He
waited, curious to hear what she'd come up with. She didn't
apologize again. Instead, she held out her small hand and
waited.
    When he didn't respond quickly enough, she
demanded, "Give me your tie. If I can't get it cleaned I'll buy you
another one. And another shirt."
    "You can't afford them." He said.
    Withdrawing her hand before he could shake
it or disrobe into it, she cocked her head at him and