"I did. I joked. You aren't my type. You aren't my father's type. If I had a brother you wouldn't be his type either."

"And what is your type?"

"Short. Slightly dumpy. Makes Challah every Friday. Never wears heels."

"Liar! What is Challah?"

"Bread. Jews break it and eat it with dinner on Friday night. I love it."

"I could learn to make it."

"I'll bet you could." I flopped back in bed and lay there next to Jennifer. We were both uncovered to the waist. Out of the corner of my eye I ...