Everything was either simmering in pots on the stove, or baking on a cookie sheet in the oven. Paul noticed she was on her second glass of wine, which he was soon to join her in. Charlette spun in her barstool a few times. As long as she doesn’t increase its speed, he thought, she should be fine. The wine would only add to her potential dizziness.<br/><br/>Matching her glass-for-glass took its toll. Paul retrieved another bottle from the fridge and placed it on the countertop. Who knew what would spew from her pretty little mouth next?<br/><br/>"Hmm... what if... what if I got to know Jemma better? Maybe she could see I'm no threat,” Charlette offered.<br/><br/><i>Schedule that, Old Man. I’d pay to see that cat fight. Wouldn’t you? And put ‘em in bikinis, please. hehe Mmm. . . .</i><br/><br/>Paul’s wine glass hovered right at his lips. He could feel the liquid recede into the glass as he slowly lowered it. “Uh, I’m not too sure about that, Charlette,” he replied, while an image of the pair flashed into his mind. Both sporting bikinis, of course. Damn him!!! “See, Jemma sees all women as threats, even Mother Theresa.” Which really wasn’t too far from the truth. “But especially women as young and sexy as you.”<br/><br/>Half of his wine disappeared.