“How about a girlfriend? You got one of those?”

“Not at the moment,” he said, staring down at his toast. “I don’t seem to have any problem getting a girlfriend, I just can’t seem to keep one.”

“Because you lecture them to death.”

“No, that’s not it.” He picked up the plate of eggs and started eating, talking between bites. “They never stick around long enough for me to reach the lecture stage.” He looked over at her. “Assuming there even is one,” he said, returning to wolfing down his food.

Camry found herself quite intrigued. She could see why Luke Pascal didn’t have trouble getting girlfriends, since Fiona had been deadon about his being dreamy. He had the body of an athlete—which really didn’t go with the physicist thing—and his eyes were a beautiful deep blue. As for his hair, well, she had to admit she did like it long; it gave him a rugged, rebellious look, which also didn’t match his profession.

His chest wasn’t anything to scoff at, either. His shoulders were broad and his well-defined pecs, liberally sprinkled with soft-looking hair, certainly rang her bell.

“So why can’t you keep a girlfriend?” she asked, wondering if maybe he bombed in the bedroom. He was a nerd, after all, even if he did have a good deal of brawn.

“According to the women who were still speaking to me when they packed up their toothbrushes, I’m boring. Apparently you ladies need a guy’s undivided attention,” he said, sounding more confounded than resigned.

Camry almost burst out laughing, but caught herself when she realized he was serious. “So you spent all your time working instead of with your girlfriends?”

“If they wanted to be with me, why didn’t they come hang out at my lab?”

Okay, the guy truly was clueless. “Maybe you should try dating other physicists. You know, another scientist who would understand being ignored?”

“Have you met many women scientists?” He actually shivered. “They scare the hell out of me.”

“They do? How?”

“I can name you three right off the top of my head who pull their hair back so tight, they look like they have botched face-lifts.” He shivered again. “And two women come to mind who could probably knock me on my ass in three seconds flat.” He snorted. “And a lot of female scientists have the personality of lab rats.”

Camry didn’t know why, but she found that hilariously funny. “And most of the male scientists I’ve met,” she said through her laughter, “couldn’t dance their way out of a wet paper bag!”

“Hey, I can dance.”

“And I’ve met fish with more personality than most of them have.”

Luke started laughing, too. “Okay, you’ve got me there. So have I.”

Camry threw back the covers and started to swing her legs off the bed.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked, grabbing her arm. “You can’t walk.”

“I have to use the bathroom.”

He grinned. “Me, too. Okay, here’s what we’ll do. You wait right there, and I’ll walk around and help you since I don’t have a bum ankle.”

“Okay, but I get the bathroom first.”

Luke set his plate on the tray between them, then walked around to her side.

Camry nearly fell over, tilting her head to look at him. “You’re a lot bigger when you’re half naked.” Her eyes stopped halfway up, and she reached out and touched his ribs. “Wow, that’s one hell of a bruise.” Her gaze finally made it to his battered face. “Are you sure you’re a physicist? You certainly held your own last night.”

“I’ve been working out,” he said, puffing up his chest, only to let it sink with a groan as he cradled his ribs. “Okay. Give me your hand, and don’t put any weight on your nakle.”

Camry giggled. “I think your pill’s working.”

“Nope. I can still feel my ribs.”

She pulled herself out of bed—thankful that Fiona had put her in flannel pajamas—then clutched his arm as she balanced on her good leg. “My pill isn’t working, either. Both my head and nankle hurt. Don’t let me fall.”

“I won’t. You know why, MacKeage?” he asked, leading her to the bathroom.

“Why?”

“Because you’re downright pretty when you smile.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re not so bad yourself, for a physy-ist.”

They reached the bathroom, and Camry transferred her weight from his arm to the sink. “Okay. Go away.”

“You won’t take forever, will you? I really have to go, too,” he said.

She waved toward the bedroom. “Pee out the window or something. I don’t have any neighbors.”

He walked out and Cam closed the door, locked it, and hobbled over to the toilet.

“You know what I think?” Luke called through the bathroom door.

“Gee, I don’t have a clue. What?”

“You know that guy you were having the e-mail argument with? I think you should meet him in person.”

“So I can punch him in the nose?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Did you really think he was full of himself?”

“He was a know-it-all, holier-than-thou, arrogant son of a bitch.”

Luke said nothing to that.

“And if I ever do meet him in person, I will cram his laptop down his throat.” She snorted. “He’s probably five feet three and four hundred pounds, bald as an eagle, and wears Coke bottles for glasses.”

“He really pissed you off, didn’t he?” Luke said softly.

Done taking care of business, Camry hobbled to the sink, looked in the mirror, and screamed.

The doorknob rattled. “What’s wrong? Did you fall?”

“No, I just looked in the mirror,” she said with a slightly hysterical laugh, carefully touching her swollen eye.

It sounded like Luke thunked his head against the door. “Dammit, you just scared the hell out of me!”

“I just scared the hell out of myself.” She washed and dried her hands, quickly ran her fingers through her rumpled hair, and unlocked the door.

Luke stumbled into the room when she opened it.

“Your turn,” she said.

“I just need to wash my hands and throw some water on my face.”

“Why?”

He grinned crookedly. “I peed out the window.”

“I was kidding.”

“You were taking too long,” he said, stepping around her to use the sink.

She’d give him credit, he didn’t scream when he looked in the mirror, but he did gasp.

“Aren’t we a pair?” she asked, smiling at him in the mirror. “At least we’ve got two good eyes between us, and you can walk and I can . . . I can . . .” She hung her head. “I can never go into another bar. Every time I get into trouble, it’s in a bar.”

He lifted her chin with his finger. “You can go with me. I won’t let you get into trouble.”

“Said the spider to the fly.”

“Smile again.”

“No. It hurts my face.”

“Because of your shiner, or just when you’re around men in general?”

“Hey, I am a happy person, dammit.”

“Wow, that pill sure wore off fast. Should I ask Fiona to give you another one?”

Camry reached up and grabbed his ears, pulled down his head, then kissed him full on the mouth. “There!” she snapped. “Is that happy enough for you?”

He pulled her into his arms, cradled her head against his shoulder, and kissed her back—a bit more forcefully, quite a bit longer, and definitely . . .

Okay, he didn’t keep losing girlfriends because he bombed in the bedroom. This guy could kiss.

But then, so could she. As a matter of fact, she had perfected kissing.

Camry went weak in the knees—especially the one holding her weight—and sagged against him when his tongue started doing delicious things to hers. She nearly burst into tears when he suddenly pulled away.

“Christ, you’re scary,” he rasped, his blue eyes locked on hers.

Her head spun in confusion. “Scary?” she repeated, running her fingertip over his jaw. “How’s that?”

He tilted her head back again and started kissing her cheek, then trailed soft, shivering kisses down her neck.

Camry trembled with blossoming passion. Yup, he definitely rang her bell.