[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

and into her turtleneck in two seconds flat. 'Okay,' she mumbled, her
mouth hidden in the folds of the sweater, then she was posing in front
of the mirror to arrange the neck to her satisfaction. Lean hard fingers
came to the back of her neck and lifted out her damp hair, and she
muttered a thanks, grinning at how domesticated they looked.
'That's a very provocative grin,' he said in her ear. 'Do you want to
share the joke?'
'No,' she gurgled merrily. 'It's a private one.' A hand slapped her
bottom smartly.
'That has to mean that I'm the source of your amusement!' he growled.
'How long will it take you to get ready to eat? There's a restaurant
right across the highway if you hurry, I just might let you join me
for lunch.'
A blonde brow cocked. 'That's mighty big of you. I'm so flattered at
that gracious invitation, I can hardly stand still in one place!'
'Well, so long as you're ready in fifteen minutes, then.'
'I'll be ready in ten.' And she was, brushing her hair one final time in
front of the mirror before turning decisively to Mike. He surveyed her
cheek, a forefinger under her chin and tilting it up.
'You did a good job with the make-up. It shows only slightly, and
only a very observant person would be able to tell there's a bruise.'
He opened the door and lazily lounged by it while she scooted by,
tucking her brush into her handbag. Then he was following her,
slipping the room key into his pocket.
They opted to walk across the highway instead of taking the car. Dee
thrilled to Mike's unexpected touch when he grabbed her hand to drag
her into a running dash across the wide stretch of asphalt. She was
laughing when they finally slowed on the other side, cheeks glowing
and eyes twinkling. For the rest of the walk, he casually draped one
arm around her shoulders and they joked and parried swift witticisms.
They were seated immediately and she looked over the menu
hungrily. When the waitress came back to take their orders, she let
Mike order for her, and soon steaming cups of coffee appeared in
front of them both. She watched with a wry lifted eyebrow as the
waitress lingered over Mike's cup, her appreciative gaze on him
suggestively. He took it very well, leaning back in the booth with a
lazy smile that treated the waitress with a warm friendliness that
somehow neatly destroyed any sexual connotation that could be
construed.
When she finally walked away, Dee raised her cup to him in a
mocking salute. 'Well, done, I say,' she murmured. Her hoarseness
had dissipated into a rather pleasing huskiness, and she found that
talking was no longer painful.
He grinned swiftly at her. 'I thought I'd handled myself quite well too,
thank you.'
'I'm sure you've improved with practice!' she retorted laughingly. 'Do
you get a lot of attention of that sort?'
'A fair amount,' he countered laconically, his green eyes vivid with
his own laughter. Finding him a comfortable and interested
companion, she was soon chattering away to him lightly as if she had
known him for ever. He was for the most part silent, watching her
keenly and shouting with laughter at some of the anecdotes she
related about the odd experiences one has when one works in a
twenty-four-hour restaurant. She liked to hear his laughter; it was a
very pleasing sound.
His attitude seemed to change after a while, and his silence began to
have a brooding quality that started to rub on her nerves. She ordered
ice cream for dessert and the waitress refilled their coffee cups. After
letting the silence fall over them again, Dee finally opened her mouth
to ask him about his strange mood when he spoke.
'Strange, isn't it, to be buying a cheap lunch for a millionaire heiress,'
he murmured, and there was something odd in his voice and eyes, but
she was too shocked with what he said to really notice.
Shock soon gave way to anger, though, and her eyes spat sudden,
virulent sparks at him as she hissed, 'Don't you put a label on me,
mister! Don't you dare!' She hated the phrase 'millionaire heiress'. As
if the only thing about her of value was the money!
'No,' he said consideringly, cocking his head to one side to stare at her
with those unsettling, assessing, somehow stern eyes. 'I should be the
last to do that, shouldn't I? At every turn you've slipped out of the
neat, .tidy little mould I've made out for you. You change constantly,
like quicksilver, always something new, something unexpected and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]