Educating Gina

“What kind of exercise do you do?”

He brought his gaze back to meet her curious eyes. “Exercise?”

She nodded. “Everyone needs to exercise.”

“I get enough running around the office.”

She made a face. “That is not the same thing.”

“I work a lot of hours. I don’t have time.”

“Does my uncle work you that hard?”

Mike snorted. “I work me that hard.”

“That is not good,” she said, shaking her head with concern. “Do you swim?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t for a while.”

She extended her hands behind her and leaned back. The reclining position showed off her flat belly and made her breasts jut out. “Tomorrow, we will swim.”

Amused at her confidence, he asked, “Where?”

“You do not know of a place?” She frowned, and then her eyes brightened. “Coney Island. I read about it on the airplane.”

He hadn’t been there in years. “Maybe.”

“Why maybe?”

“Because I have a lot of work to catch up on. I thought you could go to the library for the morning and—”

She groaned. “I can go to the library at home. I want to see New York.”

Great. “We can’t go out every minute.”

“Why not?”

He laughed. “Look, how about if you go to the office with me and use my computer while I get some paperwork out of the way, and then we’ll spend the afternoon out.”

“At Coney Island?”

“I was thinking a museum. The Guggenheim?”

“Oh, yes, that is on my list.”

“Oh, great, you have a list.” He sighed. “You have any rest time on that list?”

She laughed. “Come,” she said, sitting up straight and then scooting backward until her back rested against the tree trunk.

“Where?”

“Here.” She tugged at his sleeve until he leaned toward her. “Closer.”

What the hell was she doing? Knowing it was trouble, he shifted his butt a foot closer.

She put an arm around his shoulder and urged him to put his head on her lap. He resisted, but she gave him a smile that sent his resolve floating off in the warm breeze.

“What? You think I’m too old to keep up? I need a nap?”

“Yes.”

“Hey.” He started to lift his head.

Laughing, she splayed her fingers through his hair and gave it a small tug, forcing him to rest his head on her thighs. He complied, but she left her fingers in his hair and gently massaged his scalp.

He briefly closed his eyes at the soothing sensation.

“This is not a good idea,” he finally said, yet made no move to get up.

“Why not?”

He opened his eyes. She looked down at him in innocent confusion, her fingers continuing to work their magic. “You don’t know?”

She blinked. “Papa used to like when I rubbed his scalp. He said it relaxed him.”

Mike snorted. Obviously her mind wasn’t in the gutter with his. God, he was a dope.

Her fingers stilled. “But I never got a funny feeling in my stomach with Papa.”

Mike sat up.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

He shook his head as he got to his feet. Was she really this naive? “We’d better start back. In another hour it’s going to be tough to get a cab.”

She held out her hand and he pulled her to her feet. Without warning, she kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for the nice day.”

“Don’t mention it.” He quickly backed away.

“Scusi.” She made a sound of impatience. “Excuse me, I do not understand. I did something wrong?”

He smiled. “It’s a term that means what I did was nothing. Don’t give it another thought.”

“Oh, but that is not true.” She slid her arms around his waist and looked up into his eyes. “You have given me the perfect day.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad you liked it.” He tried to disengage her arms. “I don’t think you should be doing that.”

She held on tightly. “Why? Because you make my stomach, um, what is the word? Jump? Flutter?”