Bungalow Nights by Christie Ridgway

Author:Christie Ridgway [Ridgway, Christie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

layla woke up like She never did anymore, in a room

warmed by sunshine. Usually, dawn’s gray fingers tick-

led her into wakefulness, the need to get to the cupcake truck and get to work foremost in her mind. But because she’d not known how late her Picnic Day duties

would go, she and Uncle Phil had decided to take the

day off, their first, and she stretched her toes along the sleek sheets and—

Shot upright in bed.

Vance’s bed.

The place beside her was empty now. He’d been there

all night long, though, his muscled male warmth, his

even breathing. Sinking back onto the pillow, Layla let herself remember what that was like. The sex beforehand had been scary-wondrous, an experience that later she’d break down layer by layer, detail by detail in order to marvel over each and every one. But, oh, how sweet

was the companionship in sleep, she mused, closing her eyes against their sudden sting.

While she’d never intended to get physically involved

with Vance, last night seemed as right to her now as it had been when she’d been pulled, naked, into his lap.

She had wanted to be held, he’d needed the skin-to-skin contact, too, and the results…well, who could complain about the results?

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chriStie ridgway

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Not Layla. What’s done was done and regrets were

for women who didn’t know how transient life could be.

The smell of coffee lured her from the covers a short

while later. She dashed for her own room, showered

quickly then pulled on shorts and a T-shirt. At the last moment she grabbed a baseball cap and tugged it low

over her forehead, threading her long hair out the back gap. It would provide a shield of sorts.

Sure, she had no regrets, but she did have a healthy

sense of self-preservation. Which meant she didn’t want to give Vance a clear shot at reading her emotions on her face—not until she had a chance to assess his.

The kitchen was empty. Was he avoiding her like

he’d avoided his famiily the day before? Trying to ig-

nore the disappointing thought, she filled a mug from

the coffee carafe and added a splash of half-and-half.

Cocking her head, she listened for any sign of Vance,

but though the toaster was still warm and a loaf of bread lay on the counter, the house was silent.

Her bare feet quiet on the hardwood floors, she

drifted across the living room, drawn by the view

of blue sky, gold-dappled ocean and the small waves

flouncing against the sand like sassy little girls with white-edged petticoats. Then she saw Vance. Pleasured

relief filled her as she took in his relaxed figure. In jeans and a T-shirt, he sat on the deck by the stairs that led to the beach. His back was propped against one newel and

an empty mug rested beside his hip. As she watched,

he broke off pieces of toasted bread and tossed them

into the air.

Greedy seagulls had figured out his game and

wheeled for them, somehow just managing to avoid

midair collisions. Pigeons gathered, too, hoping for

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226

bungalow nightS

a missed crumb or two.

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