The X Factor of Attraction

There was something so incredibly sexy about men who could banter with her, but Marin could never quite put her finger on what the exact quality was that charmed her so....

Oh, that was bullshit.

It was that refusal to submit to her own verbal abuse, that streak of dominance that inspired certain men to spar with her.

Usually, it also inspired them to be aggressive in bed. Or on table. Or against tree. Whatever the appropriate or inappropriate place may be.

Marin sighed and drummed her burgundy painted nails on the table.

This guy just kept apologizing to her. Repeatedly. Over and over. And again.

As if he was the one being a bitch.

"So, David, you're whining pretty much full time now, huh?" she asked him when he paused in his ramble. "Since you're obviously not doing anything to convince your boss that you're not the lazy over-accommodator she thinks you are?"

The blond sitting across from her blushed, clashing horribly with the green upholstery of the booth.

"I'msorry," he mumbled. "Idintmeantocomplainsomuch. 'Sadrag. I'msorry."

Marin leaned forward across the table, seizing the opportunity to see where the waitress was with her check.

"What was that?" she asked, cupping one hand around an ear. If one was an astute observer, one would notice that her nails and her hair were exactly the same color. "I can't hear you over your tongue."

"Sorry," he said again, eyes down on the cheap formica.

Marin's eyes fluttered closed. She would not strangle the unconfident incompetent fool, she would NOT strangle her friend's favorite employee, not even a little TINY bit.

Even if doing so might actually force him to speak up and enunciate for at least one word of his life.

Nadea SO needed to send him to learn some speech skills. It would probably help him at work, too.

Why had she let her best friend set her up with this joker?

Marin desperately searched the room for their waitress.

Oh, thank the Summerland and all the lazy souls who resided in it.

"Here you go," the young woman chirped as she slid each of them a little leather book with their respective credit cards and a pen.

One pen.

"I'm afraid you'll have to share the writing utensil, but then you can get out of here." She smiled sympathetically at Marin before resuming her impartial facade. "Y'all heading anywhere in particular?"

"I was thinkin'-" he began.

"Nowhere!" Marin interrupted, voice high and too fast. "I'm going to my house and he's going to his."

Bless the poor child, he looked shocked and confused.

Oh, well.

Marin snatched the pen before he could, scribbling out a signature and a far too generous tip.

"Thank you, Karen," she said to the waitress. "I had a nice time tonight."

"Oh, me too, sweetheart," the young woman replied, hugging Marin as she stood to leave. "Drive safe and straight home."

"Yes ma'am!" Marin saluted as she backed out the door.

Hell, there was something sexy about anyone who could banter with her.