Make Me Over_ Getting Real - Leslie Kelly [25]
Why, oh why, had Mueller gone and ruined things by turning this simple makeover show into a man-hunt? She might actually be enjoying herself if he hadn’t gone and changed the rules. Though it’d been hard work, she really liked the stuff she was learning from the English teacher. She was even beginning to correct herself in her own thoughts, which oughta count for something.
But ever since the real point of this show had been announced, she seemed to be the only one interested in learning a darn thing.
“I don’t get why we still have to do this stuff like knowing whether to drink white wine or red with dinner, now that we know what the real object of this game is,” said Tiffany, a young blond girl from California. Tiffany had more hair than brains. And less clothes than Britney Spears.
Tori coulda told her Drew Bennett would never fall in love with someone who wouldn’t even try to use the smarts God’d given her. She wasn’t, however, that charitable. Let the wolves figure it out themselves; she planned to stay right out of it.
Only, she couldn’t, could she? Her mind might not want to do something as low-down dirty and rotten as compete for the man for money. But her body wanted him. Wanted him bad.
Which was why she’d done her best to just steer clear of the man. Leastwise until she could figure out what to do.
“Well, what I don’t get is why you can’t always drink pink wine no matter what you’re eating, and forget about it,” Sukie muttered, glaring at the glasses spread out in front of them on the big butcher-block kitchen counter.
Tori was with Sukie. Made sense to her.
“Because,” a smooth male voice said, “if you order the wrong wine at some restaurants, you’ll end up getting lousy service from a snotty waiter who thinks he’s smarter than you.”
Tori’s—everyone’s—gaze shot to the doorway, where a smiling Drew Bennett watched them.
Oh, my, he looked good to her. His dark hair gleamed and his sexy smile made her shake right in her boots. And made dollar signs light up in the minds of every other woman in the room.
Shoot me now.
“Oooh,” Tiffany said, practically cooing as she stuck her lips out. Not to mention her chest. “I never thought of it that way. Maybe we could go to a nice restaurant sometime to get something…” she licked her lips and lowered her voice, “to eat.”
Tori rolled her eyes. Was there anything more nauseating than a blond bimbo trying out tricks on another woman’s man?
Whoa, there, girl. He ain’t yours.
No. He wasn’t hers. She might want him to be, but he was fair game. Literally, thanks to Mr. Mueller, who’d made him the birdie and this here duck season.
“I’m sure you’ll have lots of chances to practice right here, Miss Myers,” he said to Tiffany, his voice all cool and even. Tori hadn’t heard that tone before. It didn’t sound nothing…anything…like the way he talked when they were alone.
“Professor?” Sukie straightened in her seat and tapped her finger on the countertop, waiting for his attention.
He turned toward her. “Yes, Miss Green?”
“Well, I wanted you to know that I’ve been thinking all afternoon about the little problem in the Middle East that we’re supposed to talk about in class tomorrow.”
Little problem? If that place had a little problem, Tori figured World War II musta been a friendly spat.
“Oh?” Drew said, sounding a bit more polite and interested as he gave Sukie his full attention.
“Uh-huh. I think the answer is to make them all become Scientologists.”
Tiffany snorted, sounding just like the pet hog Tori’d had when she was a kid. “How many hairdressers do you think one country needs, especially since the women all have to wear those veils?”
Hairdressers. Tori rolled her eyes, thinking Tiffany had got whacked with a stupid stick one too many times in her life.
Sukie glared. “It’s a religion, you…you…blonde!” Then she looked at Drew. “Then they wouldn’t have anything to fight over. And John Travolta could go visit them and teach them to dance, because people who dance together don’t usually want to kill each other afterward. Especially with