Operation G-spot. Jodi Lynn Copeland

serious. A lot of women can’t do the straight sex thing. They can sleep with every Ron, Mick, and Larry who passes by, but the odds of climaxing aren’t good. They need the emotional connection.”

      Liz spun back so fast it was a wonder she didn’t get whiplash. “You really don’t know jack about women, do you, Marr? Of all the asinine things you’ve said, that has to be the biggest load of crap ever.”

      The words threatened to take a bite out of his ego. He pushed them aside to concentrate on her expression. Now it was amused, but for a second there he could have sworn he saw interest. “You don’t have that problem, then? You get off whether you’ve been dating a guy for months or only known him a few minutes?”

      “I got off with you, didn’t I?”

      No. She hadn’t. Not for real.

      Liz had nearly convinced him that the problem was his, that he’d become a failure at the one thing he was truly good at. It seemed that wasn’t the case. It seemed the fault was neither of theirs, but a simple matter of him not being the right guy for her.

      If Dusty wasn’t as thrilled about the discovery as he should be, it was because he’d never gotten the chance to set his ego right. Then again, there was nothing to set right. He’d never stopped being a champion lover, just tangled with a woman who needed more than sex.

      “Right,” he said as she turned back to the refrigerator. “That isn’t a problem for you. You’re a regular coming machine.” A coming machine he would never get to experience firsthand. And that was fine. So what if she gave killer head? That didn’t mean a thing if, when all was said and done, he was the only one left sated.

      Liz grabbed a package of raw shrimp and handed it to him. He accepted it along with the knowledge they weren’t meant to be fuck friends. That being the case, they might as well try at platonic ones. Now that he’d signed up for the cooking class, Dusty couldn’t miss the value in learning to be a better cook for the sake of the bar. Whether she liked it or not, Liz was stuck with him for the duration.

      She’d shown an interest in his family the previous week. It followed she would be as interested in talking about her own. He knew Colin nearly as well as she did, but her mother was a mystery and her father almost as much so. “What are your parents like?”

      “My mom’s a slut.” Audibly smacking her lips shut around the words and the disdain that dripped from them, she glanced tensely around the classroom.

      If he’d been uncertain of her player reputation being a sham, he held no doubt now. Someone who got around even half as much as she claimed to would never hold such scorn for another’s behavior. “Take it you guys don’t get along?”

      Liz crossed her arms and steeled her gaze. “I swear I’ve said like a hundred times that my life is none of your business, but no, we don’t get along. It’s hard to get along with someone you see once a year if you’re lucky. And then if you’re even luckier, she doesn’t take off midway through the visit to fuck some guy who managed to get her panties wet from across the room.”

      Ouch. No matter how quietly she’d spoken, the hurt in her voice couldn’t be masked. It was laced with a bitterness he knew only too well. The urge to comfort was automatic. Well aware of how she would react to his comforting, Dusty cast the urge aside to offer a grin, followed by a low, appreciative whistle. “Wet from across the room. Now, there’s a guy I’d like to meet.”

      The response had the desired effect. The hurt evaporated from her expression, and she laughed loudly before slapping him on the arm. “Quit trying to get on my good side and get the damned skillet out, Marr.”