over
hitting the pillow she had been laying on.
“I always knew you were evil,” he grumbled. His words
were muffled against the pillow, but she still understood enough to laugh.
“After everything we did last night, you’re still going to
whine?” She looked around, searching for her clothes. “Is this to
be my life until, willpower depleted, I can’t take it anymore, and I’m forced
to kill you?”
Douglas finally rolled enough that he could rest his head on
his hand while he watched her move around the room naked. She kept
bending over to pick up an article of clothing here and there. Evil
temptress. “If you just had sex with me whenever I wanted, we would
always get along.”
Beatrice snorted out a laugh, while she finally found her
robe and pulled it on. “I’m taking a shower.” She waved towards his
big reclining hard body, barely covered by the frilly bedding. She looked
away before she jumped back into bed, thereby proving she was a pushover of
epic proportions. “You should make yourself useful and get me some
coffee; otherwise, I might not think you’re good for anything but orgasms.”
He watched her walk out of the room with appreciative eyes until
she closed the bathroom door. He heard the lock and bellowed through the
door, “You say that like it’s a bad thing!”
He heard her laugh again just before the shower
started. It made him smile.
Chapter 7
When Beatrice peaked out of the bathroom after her shower,
it was with some relief that she saw Douglas was gone. She slumped
against the doorjamb for a moment – a force to be reckoned with, that was
Douglas Bruce. It was no wonder she was feeling a little like Alice down
the rabbit hole. She was having some kind of relationship with Douglas
Bruce. Which way was up again?
She shook herself out of it and went to clean up the room
and make the bed before he returned and they ended up right back in it again.
“Here,” he said as soon as he pushed open the door and saw
her standing by the bed in jeans and a t-shirt. He was fully dressed as
well, and the coffee was in a to-go cup. “Figured you would want this
now, but I’m taking you to breakfast. There’s a place by the marina that
Ms. Peal swears has the best French toast on the West Coast.”
She took the cup, eyeing him above it while she took a
drink, black with cream, just as she liked it. “You know it occurs to me
that you never come right out and ask anything. You just kind of nudge me
along whichever way you want to go.”
He eyed her crossed arms, and canted hip. “If that
were true we’d still be in bed.”
Hmm. Good Point. She relaxed marginally.
“What would you like to do this morning?” he asked,
his obnoxious brow up. It made her want to respond with anything but
breakfast; unfortunately, now she really wanted some French toast.
“Breakfast sounds good.” She shrugged
nonchalantly. “I was just making the point that you could ask me, instead
of telling.”
“Because you’re such a shy retiring soul, and I could be
taking advantage of your inability to speak up for yourself?”
She pulled on her jacket and looked up to see him right in
front of her with a knowing smirk on his lips. She rolled her eyes.
“What?” Her voice was a tad over the top defensive, but instead of
getting angry, he smiled and helped her pull her hair out of her collar.
“It’s going to be all right, Beatrice.”
“Stop doing that.” She shook off his hands,
exasperated.
“Doing what?”
“Acting so even tempered. It’s throwing me off.”
“Do you want to fight with me this morning?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
She had to think about that. She finally huffed out a
breath and walked into his arms, coffee, and all . . . arms that immediately
wrapped loosely around her. She rested her cheek against his chest and
breathed in the smell that was so distinctly Douglas Bruce.
hitting the pillow she had been laying on.
“I always knew you were evil,” he grumbled. His words
were muffled against the pillow, but she still understood enough to laugh.
“After everything we did last night, you’re still going to
whine?” She looked around, searching for her clothes. “Is this to
be my life until, willpower depleted, I can’t take it anymore, and I’m forced
to kill you?”
Douglas finally rolled enough that he could rest his head on
his hand while he watched her move around the room naked. She kept
bending over to pick up an article of clothing here and there. Evil
temptress. “If you just had sex with me whenever I wanted, we would
always get along.”
Beatrice snorted out a laugh, while she finally found her
robe and pulled it on. “I’m taking a shower.” She waved towards his
big reclining hard body, barely covered by the frilly bedding. She looked
away before she jumped back into bed, thereby proving she was a pushover of
epic proportions. “You should make yourself useful and get me some
coffee; otherwise, I might not think you’re good for anything but orgasms.”
He watched her walk out of the room with appreciative eyes until
she closed the bathroom door. He heard the lock and bellowed through the
door, “You say that like it’s a bad thing!”
He heard her laugh again just before the shower
started. It made him smile.
Chapter 7
When Beatrice peaked out of the bathroom after her shower,
it was with some relief that she saw Douglas was gone. She slumped
against the doorjamb for a moment – a force to be reckoned with, that was
Douglas Bruce. It was no wonder she was feeling a little like Alice down
the rabbit hole. She was having some kind of relationship with Douglas
Bruce. Which way was up again?
She shook herself out of it and went to clean up the room
and make the bed before he returned and they ended up right back in it again.
“Here,” he said as soon as he pushed open the door and saw
her standing by the bed in jeans and a t-shirt. He was fully dressed as
well, and the coffee was in a to-go cup. “Figured you would want this
now, but I’m taking you to breakfast. There’s a place by the marina that
Ms. Peal swears has the best French toast on the West Coast.”
She took the cup, eyeing him above it while she took a
drink, black with cream, just as she liked it. “You know it occurs to me
that you never come right out and ask anything. You just kind of nudge me
along whichever way you want to go.”
He eyed her crossed arms, and canted hip. “If that
were true we’d still be in bed.”
Hmm. Good Point. She relaxed marginally.
“What would you like to do this morning?” he asked,
his obnoxious brow up. It made her want to respond with anything but
breakfast; unfortunately, now she really wanted some French toast.
“Breakfast sounds good.” She shrugged
nonchalantly. “I was just making the point that you could ask me, instead
of telling.”
“Because you’re such a shy retiring soul, and I could be
taking advantage of your inability to speak up for yourself?”
She pulled on her jacket and looked up to see him right in
front of her with a knowing smirk on his lips. She rolled her eyes.
“What?” Her voice was a tad over the top defensive, but instead of
getting angry, he smiled and helped her pull her hair out of her collar.
“It’s going to be all right, Beatrice.”
“Stop doing that.” She shook off his hands,
exasperated.
“Doing what?”
“Acting so even tempered. It’s throwing me off.”
“Do you want to fight with me this morning?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
She had to think about that. She finally huffed out a
breath and walked into his arms, coffee, and all . . . arms that immediately
wrapped loosely around her. She rested her cheek against his chest and
breathed in the smell that was so distinctly Douglas Bruce.
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