Earlier this year I read an interview with JE, where she seemed pretty happy to get rid of the number centered book naming thing. It made me wonder about coming up with 27 number themed titles, and then pairing up story ideas with them. In the end, I came up with 31 story ideas (more, if you count the multiple ideas for several of the numbers), and The Number Series was born. Some stories are longer one-shots, some are short, and some developed into multi-chapter offerings. All have the title somewhere in the story. I have no set posting schedule for them.

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All recognizable characters belong to Janet Evanovich, I'm just playing.

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Dinner at Six

RPOV

"Non-negotiable, Ranger. You want my help with the distraction? Come to dinner with me first."

I'd rather ride through the circles of hell in a chariot made of ice and wearing highly flammable underwear than sit through a Plum family dinner, but Augie Camillo is worth $250,000 to Rangeman. It would, in theory, be an easy paycheck for Steph, so I'm curious why she's making guaranteed gropage from her grandmother a prerequisite for taking the job.

Rather than actually ask, I give her a raised eyebrow. She narrows her eyes and waits me out, impressively holding on until I finally ask, "Are you saying you want to be paid for the job, not in cash, but by my presence at your family table?"

"No. I'm saying that, in addition to monetary compensation, I'm requiring you to escort me to dinner at my childhood home so that the blind date that my mother will have sitting at the table quickly gets the message that a love match will not be happening, thereby getting me out of there in time to do the job for you while I still have some sanity intact. It's the only way I'll be able to actually do the job for you; supposedly, it's Freddie Esposito this time. In third grade, he put a worm down the back of my shirt, and I punched him. After that he wouldn't leave me alone until I told him to scram, or I'd tell his mother that he swore he wanted to take ballroom dance classes instead of playing baseball. Mary Lou said the last time she saw him, he hadn't changed much since third grade."

Steph and the cop ended things a couple months ago, and she doesn't seem all that upset about it. He's been seen with multiple women, including lots of face time with both a kindergarten teacher and a nurse; one of my men heard him telling his friends that he was "holding auditions" for his next girlfriend. So far, Steph's been quiet, hanging out at home or coming over to run searches and keep me company while I complete work proposals in the evening.

The downside for her has been her mother intent on setting her up with every single man in the Burg, whether or not Steph is onboard with the plan. By my count, this is the twelfth set-up since the start of this last time-out. I'm assuming it's a time-out. Three months is about the limit before they start gravitating back toward each other.

"Seriously, Ranger. An hour, and then we're out of there, hopefully without me getting banned from dessert for life."

"Babe, just tell her to stop setting you up with people or stop going to dinner."

Her head tilts, like she's trying to decide if I'm messing with her, or just an idiot.

"I've met your mother, remember? You talk a good game, but that wouldn't work with her any more than it will work with mine. Catholic mothers, Ranger. Catholic mothers do not sit by and hope their single children settle down; they set them up on endless dinner dates and try to marry them off. You get away with it because you don't live in the same town."

She's got me there. I know I'm going to regret this. That's a given. I want the money for Augie Camillo, so I've got to pay the toll. "Fine. But you'll owe me."

"What's the fee?"

With that, my wolf grin takes hold. Instead of stammering or even blushing, she curiously stands in front of me with her hands on her hips before narrowing her eyes.

"No."

No? She's not with the cop, so I know it's not a guilty conscious. My eyebrow goes up, intending to wait her out, but she turns and walks away. She's moving at a fast clip, exiting the police station after dropping off her latest skip. I had called in to the monitor room for her location once I was done calming down a business owner after a break-in, because time was running out and I still needed to ask her about the Camillo job. I got to the station just after she did, impressed as fuck as she hauled in a skip that was easily a hundred pounds heavier than her. He struggled, but she was firm and led him to intake, leaning down to say something to him as she was cuffing him to the bench. His shoulder sagged a little, and he nodded. Curiosity and the urge to be near her had me moving closer. She collected her body receipt and followed me down the hall after I crooked a finger in her direction. I finally got to ask for her help to bring in Auggie, and now I'm staring at her back as she walks out, wondering where I went wrong.

"Babe, wait!"

She doesn't slow down until she's at her car, a halfway decent Ford Edge with only a few rust spots. I crowd in next to her, making it impossible for her to open the door. "Despite what you and Lula think, I don't have the ability to read your mind. Want to tell me what that was about?"

Normally, Steph's face is expressive, giving me a clue what she's thinking, but this time, I've got nothing. She finally blows out a long breath. "No more deals for sex, even as a joke. If you want in my bed, then get there like a normal person. I'll figure out something else for dinner. Thanks for the work offer for Camillo. If you want to replace me on the job, let me know."

My blank face slams down as she turns her back to me and tries to open her door before giving up and waiting for me to move out of the way. I had intended to throw it out there as a joke, but never got the chance. What constitutes like a normal person? Like the cop wining and dining her with pizza and a ball game on TV? And if I want in her bed? Why would she think I didn't want her? What changed between us and when the hell did it happen?

"Babe."

Nothing.

"Turn around." She remains facing away until I add, "Please."

She turns, but remains standing stone-still, her own version of the blank face in place.

"Where is this coming from?"

Steph looks to the side, working her jaw. Her eyes close briefly before opening again and something I can't quite read flashes in her eyes when she looks at me before looking away again. "The break-up with Joe was mostly mutual, but he got some zingers in on the way out the door. Some things he said were true, and I've been making some changes because of that, but it was mostly snarking about what you expect in exchange for your help. It made me realize that that's probably what most people think about you helping me. I know you were probably going to make a joke, but sometimes with you, it's hard to tell if it's a joke. If we end up like that again, I'd prefer to know without a doubt it's because it's what we both want and not quid pro quo."

Through it all, she hasn't looked at me. Placing a gentle hand on her chin, I angle her face toward me. "Babe, I told you. No price. That hasn't changed for me."

On its own, her defiant chin raises. "But it might have changed for me. You've never lied about where I fit in your life, but I've been lying about being ok with it. I've been trying to be more honest with myself. I help you because I want to be around you, because you're the most important person in my life and when I'm with you, I feel like maybe I'm not such a pathetic screw-up that's going to end up alone and wondering what's wrong with me. None of that is a joking matter to me."

She tries to turn her head away again but fuck that. We're close enough to her car for me to lean her up against it. My hands are on either side of her head and I give her plenty of time to object. When she doesn't, I lean in, letting my lips hover millimeters from hers. She's braced for a sensual assault, and instead I let the kiss convey what my words can't. Her hands come up, each getting a handhold on my shirt. A needy sound escapes her and one of my hands shifts to pull her closer as she changes the kiss to the more carnal kind.

A car honks as it drives past and we both pull back, breathing hard. "Don't ever doubt what you mean to me,

Babe."

"I don't. I just don't know what it means to you or if we're forever stuck in limbo, loving each other from separate paths."

She uses my shock to get in her car and start the engine while rolling down her window. "Don't forget. Dinner at six. Are you picking me up, or meeting me at my parents' house?"

I'm not sure exactly how to address her not knowing what loving her means to me, and shit, did she just admit to loving me? It looks like I'm locked in for dinner and I'll have an evening of circling hell to occupy my time while I figure it all out. "I'll pick you up at 5:30. Bring your things for the distraction."

With a head nod, she pulls out of the parking spot and angles out of the lot, leaving me to wonder what the hell I just got myself into.

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When I pull into her lot at 1729 (5:29pm), Steph steps out of her building wearing a nice pair of grey slacks and a soft blue sweater set. The grey suede heels she's wearing will probably bring us nearly eye-to-eye; something that gives me too many wicked ideas to be thinking about on the way to dinner with her over-sexed grandmother.

Once she's in the car and safely belted in, we leave her lot and travel into the belly of the beast. I avoid the Chambersburg section of Trenton if at all possible; I consider it Morelli's turf, and other than to visit a couple of clients or grab a meal, I have little reason to be in the area.

We're both silent on the drive. I want to ask what that ass said to her to make her doubt herself. Beyond Rangeman's reputation, I don't care or give much thought to what people think of me, but people assuming I help Steph in exchange for some ass bothers me. That Steph might think that, bothers me. I haven't been shy about being an opportunist, but I haven't exactly hidden my feelings from her, either.

To satisfy my own curiosity, and because I'm still every bit as uncivilized as I once warned her I was, I drive down Slater Street to take us directly in front of Morelli's house. She doesn't tense up, just gives me a side eyed What are we doing? look. In a stroke of lucky, or unlucky, timing, Morelli is dragging a blond from the passenger seat of his SUV with one hand up her shirt and one heading down her pants. Their lips are fused as they stumble toward the door, paying us no attention.

I expected to be gauging Steph's reaction to being near his house, not her having to see him with someone else. I should apologize, even if I'm not all that sorry. As we turn the corner to head two streets over to the Plum house, Steph looks at me, eyes wide. "Holy shit. I'm pretty sure that was Milly Bruno. I hope the dumbass updated his will."

Not the reaction I was expecting, but an interesting one all the same. "Babe?"

"Let's just say that Donnie Gallo is 'mob adjacent' and very protective of his little girl. You'd have thought he learned about playing with fire from his time with Terry Gillman."

That's it. Her eyes are clear, not a tear in sight. She doesn't seem upset, just disbelieving. That gives me hope that she's finally shaken clear of his orbit, and this is more than a time-out.

Frank's cab and Helen's Buick are in the driveway when I pull the 911 to the curb, parking behind an unassuming navy-blue Honda Accord. Steph wasn't wrong about there being a set-up. Her sigh is heavy.

Taking one last look at the front door, she turns to me. "I don't care if you have to call Tank and have him fake an emergency that requires both of us, get me out of there as soon as dinner is over."

"You're going to skip out on dessert?" That doesn't seem likely.

She quiet for a few seconds before admitting, "My Spidey-sense is pinging."

That makes me look around. Curtains flutter in front windows, a sure sign that we're being watched, but I don't catalog any danger. "Are we're in danger?"

She exhales slowly. "No, more like this dinner is going to be one for the books and you're never going to want to talk to me again."

With that, she opens the car door and levers herself out, not even bothering to wait for me as she marches up the sidewalk. My longer stride allows me to catch up with her before she reaches the front stoop, where her mother is waiting to usher us inside.

"Stephanie, I invited someone—"

"Me, too! It's nice that you invited someone for Grandma to talk to. You remember my friend, Ranger?"

Helen Plum looks like she's sucked on a lemon, but she waves us inside. She shuts the door behind us and closes her eyes, like she's praying for strength while dealing with her child. It's a move that I saw my mother do a lot growing up. After a deep breath, she squares her shoulders. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Manoso. How are you?"

Her unfailing politeness in the face of having her plans thwarted pulls a smile from me as I hand over the small bouquet and bottle of wine. "I'm doing well. Thank you for having me."

I receive a polite thank you before Helen walks off, discreetly sniffing the roses. Steph's shaking her head at me. "Suck up!" she stage whispers, drawing a chuckle out of Frank as he approaches us from the living room.

"Hey, dad." Steph stiffens as the man on the couch gets up. "Freddie."

"Stephanie! I'm so glad to get to see you tonight. I…I didn't expect you to be with someone."

Freddie Esposito is an inch or two shorter than me and about 50 pounds lighter. He isn't scrawny, just lean.

He's looking back and forth between Steph and me, waiting for confirmation that she is, indeed, not available.

Taking a step closer to her, I put my hand on the small of her back, relishing how she relaxes into my touch and moves closer to me. A kiss to her curls and meeting his gaze over her head just adds punctuation to the statement. Mine.

The rightness of that statement sets me back on my heel, causing Steph to mouth, "Are you okay?"

She accepts my slight head nod and lets it go as Helen calls all of us to the dinner table. Freddie heads out in front of us, not so subtly glancing back at Steph. Meeting his eyes, I pull Steph's hand up to kiss the palm;

Freddie sighs and continues on to the table while she sucks in a breath…but doesn't pull her hand away.

Helen has added an extra place setting for me, and Steph pulls us around to one side of the table while Freddie takes the seat across from Stephanie. Helen watches us settle, frowning at the empty spot next to Freddie. At the base of the stairs, she yells up, "Mother! Dinner is ready."

Dinner in the Burg is tightly scheduled and served on time, making me wonder what Steph's grandmother is up to. We hear her moving around above us, and soon enough Edna makes her way down the stairs and into the dining room; her chest is still moving like she has a small animal hidden under her shirt. Helen is staring at her, looking horrified.

"Mother!"

"The kids call it free-boobing. I kind of like it; it's comfy."

"Christ."

I have to agree with Steph's dad on this one. That's something I don't need to see. At least Edna's shirt, some sort of free-flowing peasant top in a loud, garish print comprising reds, oranges, and yellows, is loose enough to not really highlight the fact she's braless, something that I'm thankful for.

"Hey, Grandma. I like the shirt."

I can't tell if Steph is being sincere, but nothing on her face gives her away. Either way, Edna beams at the compliment before sitting down next to an unimpressed and slightly terrified looking Freddie… and directly across from me. Once she's settled, she gives me an outrageous wink and I can't help but smile back at her. I'm also thankful as fuck that anything going on under her shirt is down below the table and I don't have to worry about my eyes accidentally landing on her chest and encouraging her.

"It's been a while since you graced our table, Hot Stuff. You're not afraid of us, are you?"

Yes, absolutely. "Not at all, Mrs. Mazur. Business picked up and we've been very busy."

She jabs a bony elbow toward Freddie. "Hear that, Sport? Successful businessman. Whatcha got to say to that?"

Not sure what kind of reality show he's found himself in, Freddie glances from me to Steph. "Biology teacher and baseball coach."

Edna shifts her dentures around. "So, you understand how a woman's body works and know your way around the bases. That's promising."

Freddie blinks a few times before conceding, "Yes, I guess that's true."

He looks at me for guidance. Not happening; it's every man for himself at a Plum family dinner. I'll totally throw him in front of Edna Mazur if it ensures I get out of the house unmolested.

Frank serves himself from the tray of manicotti before passing it off to me. Steph smirks as I take the smallest piece before handing the plate to her. It's not a temple day, but heavy tomato dishes will never be my favorite. The only sound in the room is that of silverware hitting dishes as food makes its way around the table.

Conversation is sparse throughout the meal, with Helen asking Freddie questions, Steph not taking the bait, and Edna filling the dead space with stories and innuendo. Through it all, Freddie looks stunned, I exercise my right to remain silent, and Frank keeps his head down and arm in motion.

It's Edna that brings up the cop moving on and dating. Steph shrugs and points out that they've broken up, and she really doesn't care who he's seeing. Helen latches onto that, saying she just doesn't understand what Steph is looking for if it wasn't what Morelli was offering.

"I want someone who accepts me for who I am."

I squeeze her thigh under the table, and she gives me a soft smile.

"Damn skippy, Baby Girl! Don't you dare settle."

"I won't, Grandma."

"You know what you need? You need to celebrate kicking that horse's patoot to the curb. Do something daring. I know, go get one of those belly-button piercings!"

Steph thinks about it for a minute, which was a minute too long in Helen's estimation. "She does not need a piercing, Mother! And really, what's the point? No one sees it."

"Don't be a stick in the mud, Helen. Guys like them. It's extra ornamentation for when you're naked."

Helen does the sign of the cross, shakes her head, and stands up. "I'll get dessert."

Freddie bravely wades in. "Seems like a piercing would hurt."

Edna takes a drink of her wine and sets it back down. "I got me one. Didn't hurt a bit."

Unbidden, my eyes swing to Frank, and we exchange a horrified glance. Steph is non-pulsed, still eating her manicotti. She reaches over and lays a hand on my thigh.

In a sequence that will play out in my nightmares for years to come, Edna quickly stands and whips her top up, revealing not only a large red teardrop dangling from her sagging midsection but also the fact that she wasn't kidding about being braless. Age and gravity have not been kind. Edna looks down and moves her dentures around, saying, "Well, would you look at that. They aren't where they used to be."

Next to her, Freddie makes some sort of choking noise and Edna quickly turns to him. In an effort to avoid a flying tit to the eye, he jerks backward, flinging the wine in his glass on the wall and carpet behind him.

"There's a reason you never look up from your plate when you eat here. Remember that for next time."

I have nothing to say to Frank's declaration, so I dumbly nod. Next time? I'm just trying to survive this time, and the fun wasn't over.

Satan himself couldn't have choreographed the next thirty seconds better. The front door opens, and the sound of galloping children comes from the living room, mixed with a shouting voice telling them to stop running. Steph's nieces appear in the doorway but stop in their tracks at the sight of Edna; Valerie and the Kloughn run into the back of them. Helen picks this exact moment to come out of the kitchen with a fancy chocolate cake. Steph's face lights up at the prospect of all that chocolate. Helen falters when she catches sight of her mother's exposed chest and screeches as her shoe catches on the carpet. It's too late to stop it. She's propelled forward until her hip hits the table, stopping her but not the cake. I'm focused on the noise from the kids and barely register the screech before my chest and lap are full of chocolate cake. The room is completely silent, and everyone is staring at me, except Steph and the Kloughn.

Kloughn's face is red as he starts flapping his hands. "Oh, my gosh. Wow. Look at those. Valerie, are yours going to do that? Oh my, I've never seen boobies like that. Oh, no. I'm not supposed to say boobies in front of the girls, and this one time-" At his wife's glare, Albert stops talking but he manages to belch and pass gas at the same time.

Steph has turned her head away, but the shake of her shoulders gives away her merriment. She clears her throat and faces us again, focusing on her mother and grandmother. "Grandma! Put your shirt down. Mom, are you okay?"

Edna drops her top back into position. No one knows what to say; Frank looks sad at the loss of dessert, the girls are wide-eyed, Albert is holding his breath, and Freddie just looks nauseous. Helen nods her head at Steph, straightens herself up, reaches for the wine and refills her glass before downing it. I've never understood Helen Plum more than I have in this moment.

Stephanie leans over and swipes a finger through the chocolate ganache frosting that is slowly sliding down my chest. I'm momentarily mesmerized by the motion of her licking her finger clean, until the smartass says, "Babe. I think I need to take you home and hose you down."

She's smiling as she says it and I send her a look that tells her I'll get even. A small tugging on my sleeve has me looking the right, and straight into the eyes of a miniature Stephanie. I blink, wondering what the hell time warp I've fallen into and why I'm not panicking. Blinking again clears my vision, and the little girl speaks. "Hi, I'm Mary Alice. Can I have some cake?"

She doesn't wait for an answer and swipes a bit of cake and frosting off my shirt and starts eating from her hand.

"Mary Alice!"

Steph's sister looks horrified, and Steph turns her head away again so her niece won't see her laughing.

Little Mary Alice is unrepentant. "What? We came over to see if Grandma had any cake left after the poor unfortunate soul left."

Frank snickers, while Valerie and Helen sport matching red cheeks. Steph sighs. "Sorry, M.A. How about this weekend I take you girls out for manicures and ice cream instead?"

Her plan is met with enthusiasm from the girls and Freddie slowly slides out of his chair and away from Edna. With a quick glance at all of us, he thanks Helen for the meal, tells Steph it was good to see her again, and then speed walks out of the room. Ten seconds later, we all hear his tires screech as he peels away from the curb.

Edna shifts her dentures around in her mouth, commenting. "That boy has no staying power."

Helen flops down in her seat. "Girls, there are still some cookies in the kitchen."

When they're safely out of earshot, Steph turns to her sister. "Which one of us is the poor unfortunate soul, me or Freddie?"

Valerie hems and haws without ever actually answering. Steph reaches over and starts grabbing globs of cake from my lap, dropping it onto our plates. Once the bulk of it is cleaned off, she quietly asks if I'm ready to go. At my nod, she wipes her hand on her napkin and stands. "Thanks for dinner, Mom. I'm busy next week and won't make it."

Steph grabs my hand and pulls me through the house and out to the car. She drags in a deep breath once we're clear of the house. Out of nowhere, she pushes me against the car and lays a kiss on me so hot my brain shuts down. When she's done, she backs away from me, and my gaze is stuck on her now chocolate cake covered sweater. Her ruined clothing isn't what has her attention; that would be my lack of reaction below the belt. She sighs and mutters, "I knew you'd eventually figure out I come with too much baggage. Just drop me off at home."

"Babe, the sight of your grandmother's tits left my dick slightly traumatized. You really owe me now."

She tilts her head to the side, contemplating. "Do you really want to be paid off in sex by someone that you could accidentally procreate with and have those genes running through their system?"

Thinking back to the image of the mini-Steph I thought I saw standing next to me, I realize it's not the worst thing that could happen. Might even be fun. Who would have thought that a crazy dinner with the Plums would clarify a lot of my confusion?

"Babe, I think you and I need to have a talk about the path we're going to take."

She snorts. "You mean the one where you wave from afar and are not so secretly glad that you ran when you had the chance?"

"No, Babe. The one where we lay all our cards on the table and start talking compromises."

"You're not scared of the craziness I bring to the table?"

I pull her close and kiss the shit out of her this time, and make sure she feels that everything is fully functional again. "Oh, yeah. I've never been more scared, but I think we're worth the risk, and until we're ready to procreate, we'll just double up on birth control. Now let's go change, catch us a bad guy, and then I'll show you just how much I want your craziness."