That might work," I said. "I'm good at faking it."
This led to a couple moments of uncomfortable silence from both of us.
"You didn't mean... ?" Morelli asked.
"No. Of course not."
"Never?"
"Maybe once."
His eyes narrowed. "Once?"
"It's all that comes to mind. It was the time we were late for your Uncle Spud's birthday party."
"I remember that. That was great. You're telling me you faked it?"
"We were late! I couldn't concentrate. It seemed like the best way to go.
Tag: faking-it
For the most part, Ranger had a consistent personality.
He wasn't a guy who wasted a lot of unnecessary energy and effort. He moved and he spoke with an efficient ease that was more animal than human. And he didn't telegraph his emotions. Unless Ranger had his tongue in my mouth it was usually impossible to tell what he was thinking. But every now and then, Ranger would step out of the box, and like a little treat that was doled out on special occasions, Ranger would make an entirely outrageous sexual statement.
At least it would be outrageous coming from an ordinary guy... from Ranger it seemed on the mark.
Tag: ranger
Ranger cradled my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from my eyes. "The ceremony is over. Can you make it back to the car?"
I nodded. "I'm okay now. Am I red and blotchy from crying?"
"Yes," Ranger said, brushing a kiss across my forehead. "I love you anyway."
"There's all kinds of love," I said.
Ranger took me by the hand and led me back to the SUV. "This is the kind that doesn't call for a ring. But a condom might come in handy."
"That's not love," I told him. "That's lust.
Men!"
"At least we don't fake it."
"Listen, it was your uncle. And we were late, remember? So I made the sacrifice and got us there in time for dessert. You should be thanking me."
Morelli's mouth was open slightly and his face was registering a mixture of astonished disbelief and wounded, pissed-off male pride.
Okay, it wasn't that much of a sacrifice at the time, and I knew he shouldn't be thanking me, but give me a break here... this wasn't famine in Ethiopia
Tag: faking-it
Suppose I lay down on the pavement and you run over me a few times with my own car...just for old times.
Janet EvanovichTag: joe-morelli
I mostly eat peanut butter sandwiches. Peanut butter and banana, peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter and potato chips, peanut butter and olives, and peanut butter and marshmallow goo. So sue me, I like peanut butter.
Janet EvanovichDid you take Joyce's engine?'
'My instructions were to disable the car, but one of the men bet Hal a burger he couldn't get the engine out. So Hal removed the engine.
Tag: humor
I plunked down on the couch beside him.
"I don't have any accomplishments of any kind. I'm stupid and boring. I don't have any hobbies. I don't play sports. I don't write poetry. I don't travel to interesting places. I don't even have a good job."
"That doesn't make you stupid and boring," Morelli said.
"Well, I feel stupid and boring. And I wanted to feel interesting. And somehow, someone told my mother and grandmother that I played the cello. I guess it was me...only it was like some foreign entity took possession of my body. I heard the words coming out of my mouth, but I'm sure they originated in some other brain. And it was so simple at first. One small mention. And then it took on a life of it's own. And next thing, everyone knew."
"And you can't play the cello."
"I'm not even sure this is a cello."
Morelli went back to smiling. "And you think you're boring? No way, Cupcake."
"What about the stupid part?"
Morelli threw his arm around me. "Sometimes that's a tough call.
He rooted for the Mets, he wore Foot of the Loom underwear, and he drove a Buick. His loyalties were carved in stone and he wasn't about to be impressed with some upstart of a toaster salesman who drove a Bonneville.
Janet EvanovichEveryone knows that if you buy chocolate with spare change, then the calories don't count.
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