"What?" I say when I see her lips curl into a slight smile.

"Nothing," she says smoothly. "It's just not everyday that I have a half-naked man eating breakfast in my kitchen." She smiles and I wonder how far to take this banter.

"Really?" I ask facetiously. "I bet you could have any number of half-naked men in your kitchen, any morning you want," I say, not initially realizing what I'm implying.

"Well..." she laughs, "that remains to be seen, but I'm glad you're here today."

"Me too," I answer. What do I say now? Should I push this a little farther? What's the worse that can happen, she tells...