Page 61 of Puppy Christmas

“Like what?” Ford’s own voice was lazy and, she hated to admit it, a little smug. Considering what he’d just made her do, she decided his pride was justified.

She also knew that she should answer him, but she was having a difficult time deciding on the right word to describe the experience. It had been more fun than she’d expected—funnier, too, the same way everything with Ford was. But although the laughter had surprised her, it hadn’t taken her breath away nearly as much as the intimacy.

“Good,” she eventually said. It was an inadequate way to describe the experience they’d just shared, but it was also accurate. She feltgood.

“I know,” he agreed. “Me either.”

She sat up with a start, and all her blankets fell away. So did the feeling of peace that had been settling over her. “Wait a minute—I thought you said you’d done this before. You jerk. You set yourself up as some kind of pro, getting all sexy and telling me what to do. I should have known better than to believe a word out of your mouth.”

“I only meant that it was good for me, too—great, in fact.” He paused, the mood oddly heavy. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Lila. I never have.”

“Yeah, right. And I’m a sixty-something chain smoker with a rack like a Vegas showgirl.”

Another interminable silence followed. She was half afraid that she’d said something to ruin the call, that Ford was genuinely insulted by her remarks, but he eventually released a low laugh. “Please don’t start up with her again. I’m begging you. I don’t think my body can take it.”

“You might have to. There are over two hours until the next alarm goes off. We’re going to have to dosomethingto pass the time.”

“You could always recite the alphabet.”

She sank back into the pillows. The dangerous moment—that feeling of contentment slipping away from her—had passed. She was more grateful about it than she cared to admit. She wasn’t ready to end this call, wasn’t prepared to tell Ford goodbye.

“I can do you one better,” she promised and settled in for a long chat. “Ready? ‘Two households, alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene…’”