questions to ask on the subject of the birds and bees. Hell!
John got up, limped out the door and went looking for Tara. He found her perched on a quilt, taking advantage of the last rays of sunset. Her nimble fingers flew over the rips in Samuel and Derek’s grass-stained shirts.
“You, Irish, have a devilish sense of humor,” John muttered.
She glanced up, grinning elfishly. “Oh, are you referring to that kiss I bestowed on you at the table?”
“Hell, yes, damn it,” he snapped. “Next thing I knew Flora was spouting off that she’s the one who loves me, and then she wanted to know if kissing is what makes babies.”
He could see Tara battling back a giggle. He wished he was in possession of a chain—one size smaller than the swanlike column of her neck.
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