story and a really great one."
"That makes sense, I suppose," he granted. After a quick
peek into the laundry area, Ty sauntered back through the living room and
headed down the hall. With Jess trailing behind, he found the hall closet and
the guest bath, giving them a swift once-over and continuing on. Next to be
discovered was her office.
"I take it this used to be the second bedroom?" he
ventured.
"Yes, but I converted it into an office for myself, since I
do a lot of my work at home. When I have overnight guests, they camp out in the
living room."
He wandered around the room, checking out her desktop computer,
her printer, her bookcase, her fax. "You've got some quality equipment
here," he remarked. Bending over, he noted the read-out on the fax and
chuckled. "I see you remembered to turn it back on."
After admiring her laptop computer, he made a beeline for the only
remaining room off the hall. Without bothering to ask permission first, he
opened the door and walked in. "The master bedroom, or in this instance I
suppose it's the mistress's bedroom," he stated, looking around with
interest. "Cozy. I forget, what's that design on the comforter and
curtains called?"
"Paisley."
"Oh, yeah. Those curved jobbies always remind me of
sperm." Her stunned reaction to his blunt statement was lost on him as he
strode into the connecting bath.
To Jess's annoyance he opened the cupboard beneath the sink, then
the door to the medicine cabinet. "What do you think you're doing?"
she snapped, slamming the cabinet door shut again.
"I can't believe you! Didn't your mother teach you any
better?"
He had the nerve to grin at her as he slipped past her into the
bedroom again. "Just checking your supply of Midol, my dear. No need to
get your dander up. On second thought, if you're getting that strung out, maybe
you should pop a couple of those babies before we leave. And I noticed you're
low on tampons."
"Shove it, James."
At this juncture, she really shouldn't have been surprised when Ty
marched over, yanked open the door to her closet, and began rifling through her
clothes. "What are you looking for now, pray tell?" she inquired
sharply.
"Nothing particular," he told her. "Just trying to
get a sense of your style, and the colors you prefer." He dragged out an
army green tailored blazer, held it up, and grimaced. "Oh, puke! Don't
tell me you really like this thing?"
She grabbed it from him and rammed it back in the closet.
"That's it, buster. The tour's over. You've worn out your welcome."
By the time she slammed the closet door, Ty, ignoring her obvious
pique, was cataloging the contents of her dresser drawers. He'd found the one
with her underwear and was rifling through it before she could stop him.
"Okay, where are they?" he muttered.
Jess shoved at his hands, all the while plying her weight against
his in an effort to shut the drawer. "Where's what?" she snarled.
"Damn it, Ty! If you're on a hunt for drugs, I don't have any. I don't
sell, and I don't use, and I don't associate with anyone who does."
"I already figured that," he stated flatly. "You
wouldn't want to mess up your brain, since that's how you make your living.
I'm trying to find your bras, but all I can locate so far are these shapeless
sports things that look like sawed-off T-shirts."
"My bras?" she repeated stupidly. "My bras?"
This time she shrieked the words. "Look, you pervert. If you're into
ladies' underwear, go buy your own and get your big paws off mine!"
He turned and gave her a disgusted look. "I'm as normal as
the next guy. Maybe more. I just needed to see what size you wore, and I
figured if I asked, you wouldn't tell me."
"Damn straight, Sherlock." She glared at him, her eyes
blazing like lit coals.
He held out his arms, palms up in a conciliatory gesture. "I
can explain."
"Uh huh. Sure you can," she said snidely.
"The reason I needed to know your size was... well, I got you
something today, and I wanted to make sure they'd fit."
Jess shook
"That makes sense, I suppose," he granted. After a quick
peek into the laundry area, Ty sauntered back through the living room and
headed down the hall. With Jess trailing behind, he found the hall closet and
the guest bath, giving them a swift once-over and continuing on. Next to be
discovered was her office.
"I take it this used to be the second bedroom?" he
ventured.
"Yes, but I converted it into an office for myself, since I
do a lot of my work at home. When I have overnight guests, they camp out in the
living room."
He wandered around the room, checking out her desktop computer,
her printer, her bookcase, her fax. "You've got some quality equipment
here," he remarked. Bending over, he noted the read-out on the fax and
chuckled. "I see you remembered to turn it back on."
After admiring her laptop computer, he made a beeline for the only
remaining room off the hall. Without bothering to ask permission first, he
opened the door and walked in. "The master bedroom, or in this instance I
suppose it's the mistress's bedroom," he stated, looking around with
interest. "Cozy. I forget, what's that design on the comforter and
curtains called?"
"Paisley."
"Oh, yeah. Those curved jobbies always remind me of
sperm." Her stunned reaction to his blunt statement was lost on him as he
strode into the connecting bath.
To Jess's annoyance he opened the cupboard beneath the sink, then
the door to the medicine cabinet. "What do you think you're doing?"
she snapped, slamming the cabinet door shut again.
"I can't believe you! Didn't your mother teach you any
better?"
He had the nerve to grin at her as he slipped past her into the
bedroom again. "Just checking your supply of Midol, my dear. No need to
get your dander up. On second thought, if you're getting that strung out, maybe
you should pop a couple of those babies before we leave. And I noticed you're
low on tampons."
"Shove it, James."
At this juncture, she really shouldn't have been surprised when Ty
marched over, yanked open the door to her closet, and began rifling through her
clothes. "What are you looking for now, pray tell?" she inquired
sharply.
"Nothing particular," he told her. "Just trying to
get a sense of your style, and the colors you prefer." He dragged out an
army green tailored blazer, held it up, and grimaced. "Oh, puke! Don't
tell me you really like this thing?"
She grabbed it from him and rammed it back in the closet.
"That's it, buster. The tour's over. You've worn out your welcome."
By the time she slammed the closet door, Ty, ignoring her obvious
pique, was cataloging the contents of her dresser drawers. He'd found the one
with her underwear and was rifling through it before she could stop him.
"Okay, where are they?" he muttered.
Jess shoved at his hands, all the while plying her weight against
his in an effort to shut the drawer. "Where's what?" she snarled.
"Damn it, Ty! If you're on a hunt for drugs, I don't have any. I don't
sell, and I don't use, and I don't associate with anyone who does."
"I already figured that," he stated flatly. "You
wouldn't want to mess up your brain, since that's how you make your living.
I'm trying to find your bras, but all I can locate so far are these shapeless
sports things that look like sawed-off T-shirts."
"My bras?" she repeated stupidly. "My bras?"
This time she shrieked the words. "Look, you pervert. If you're into
ladies' underwear, go buy your own and get your big paws off mine!"
He turned and gave her a disgusted look. "I'm as normal as
the next guy. Maybe more. I just needed to see what size you wore, and I
figured if I asked, you wouldn't tell me."
"Damn straight, Sherlock." She glared at him, her eyes
blazing like lit coals.
He held out his arms, palms up in a conciliatory gesture. "I
can explain."
"Uh huh. Sure you can," she said snidely.
"The reason I needed to know your size was... well, I got you
something today, and I wanted to make sure they'd fit."
Jess shook
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