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absorption that Amanda found very disturbing.
    Running the tip of her tongue around her suddenly parched lips, she launched into nervous conversation. “Did you know that Monopoly was invented by a University of Wisconsin graduate?”
    “Don’t change the subject,” he chided, lifting his gaze to her eyes.
    “I wasn’t,” she denied. “You brought up Monopoly and I was just…”
    “I know exactly what you were trying to do,” Brady interrupted, watching her smooth back her hair in an agitated gesture. “So, did I pass the inspection? If not, there’s another reference in the envelope that confirms my skill in…” His pause was deliberate. “…certain specialized activities.
    Amanda dropped the envelope as if burned. She had no doubts about what kind of activities he was referring to and she had no intention of reading a resume of his sexual activities. Brady’s amusement was evident. In fact he seemed to be having a hard time restraining outright laughter.
    Amanda could feel fury stealing her patience. Since Brady found her to be such an entertaining diversion, the obvious solution was to give him an evening so boring that he’d give up in desperation, that is if he didn’t fall asleep first. “There’s a concert at eight o’clock tomorrow night at the college auditorium.” She deliberately made her voice sound hesitant, knowing that he’d assume it was a rock concert, as was the norm.
    An unsuspecting Brady immediately said, “Sounds great! What time shall I pick you up?”
    “That’s all right,” she hedged. “I’ll meet you at the auditorium.” Her plan didn’t call for her being dependent upon him for a ride home, because there was no telling what kind of mood he’d be in by the time she was done with him.
    “Amanda, I know where you live, it’s right on my way home. We’d save gas if I picked you up and dropped you off afterward.”
    Unable to fight such energy-efficient logic, Amanda reluctantly agreed.
    “Great.” He abandoned his slanted pose over the desk. “See you at seven tomorrow night.”
    Amanda spent the afternoon bent over a pile of accounts payable printouts, determined to clean up the duplicate billing problem they’d encountered with one of their many vendors. This sort of mix-up made her even more determined to consolidate jobbers. While reaching across her desk for a folder, she inadvertently upended the envelope containing Brady’s references, spilling its contents onto the printouts.
    Along with his sister’s letter there was a round cloth patch attached to a sheet ofpaper. She picked it up, gazing in amused astonishment at the Boy Scout badge nestled in the palm of her hand. It had indeed been awarded for skill in a specialized activity—signaling. How appropriate! “An old skill that can be fun,” the accompanying tip sheet explained.
    “Tonight, Brady Gallagher, you’re going to get your signals crossed!” Amanda murmured in what could easily have been mistaken for gleeful anticipation.
    It was no surprise that Brady arrived at her doorstep on time, and his attire was as casual as she’d expected. A madras plaid shirt was tucked into his form-fitting jeans while a brown leather belt hugged his lean waist, its intricate silver buckle drawing and holding her attention until modesty moved her eyes elsewhere. Proceeding upward, Amanda deliberately avoided his face and his sexy eyes. Instead, she focused on the thick curly mane of his dark hair, noting the way it conformed to the shape of his head, brushing the back of his collar, unaccountably making her long to run her fingers through it. His blazer was the same one he’d worn that night at the restaurant, when he’d embarrassed her in front of Bob, and the memory strengthened her resolve to repay him in kind.
    Meanwhile Brady was undertaking a study of his own. He quickly noted, although he made no comment on, the expensive simplicity of her dress. His innate suspicion made him question her