Perfect for the Beach by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Anthologies (Multiple Authors), Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9780758267191
Google: uO8p36QgZs4C
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 10007086
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2004-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

“Mmm nnn’d eeel eeeeg,” she said with her mouth full.

“What?”

She chewed and swallowed. “I said, I didn’t steal anything.”

“That’s nice. Back up.” She was still dressed, and gorging herself on room-service chicken, gravy, mashed potatoes, broccoli, and chocolate milk. Sadly, she had not instantly disrobed after room service had come and gone.

He was wearing the standard-issue lux-hotel white terry-cloth robe, sitting on the bed and watching her. He was hungry, but not for food. “What is your name?”

“Oh. Didn’t I tell you? Sorry.” She stuck out a hand, shiny with chicken grease. He shook it gingerly. “Robin Filkins.”

“And the girl named ‘Robin’ didn’t steal anything.”

“Har-har. And nope. How can you steal your own property?”

“Lots of ways. Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“How about, not?”

“Why don’t you want to tell me? An unburdened conscience is a light one.”

“Who talks like that? And to answer your question, because it’s none of your business?” she guessed.

“You involved me,” he explained patiently. “You made me your alibi. At the least, you owe me an explanation.” He eyed the gorgeous mounds under her T-shirt. “Or, barring that—”

“Simmer down, El Horno. I’ll cough up the scoop.”

“Only if you promise to stop mixing your metaphors. And to never call me that again.”

“Hey, a bird in the hand is worth a pig in a poke.” She laughed and a few red curls escaped her ponytail and bounced around her face. “Besides, don’t get uppity with me. You never told me your name, either.”

“It’s not like you gave me time for civilized conversation.”

“I didn’t hear any complaints, pal.” She smirked.

She was really quite something—shameless, funny, blunt. He itched to touch the curls framing her face, to see if they felt as silky soft as they looked. “Point taken. It’s John Crusher.”

“Seriously?”

“Sounds like a professional wrestler, doesn’t it?”

She gnawed on a chicken leg. “I bet all the other accounting weenies are terrified of you.”

“Actually, I’m a freelancer with my own business, and rarely run into other accounting weenies. So, you were going to explain your curious yet refreshing actions of the last hour …?”

“I was? Oh, right. I was. In a nutshell: cracked my uncle’s safety deposit box. Got my property back. Took off. Cracked the first door I found on the highest floor. Jumped your bones—temporarily. The end.”

“Why my room?”

“Cracked the hotel reservation system first—you weren’t supposed to check in until tonight, Early Boy.”

“You’re quite right,” he said, surprised. “I caught an earlier flight.”

“Yeah, and thanks for nothing. I go to all that trouble to lift a universal housekeeping card, and you show up early. I just about dropped my panties when I heard your key card rattling in the slot!”

“If memory serves, you did drop your—”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, figured I’d hang out here for a couple hours until the heat was off, then slip out the back. This was, of course, totally foiled when you showed up. Although I must give you snaps for your cooperation.”

“Cooperation,” he said dryly, “is my middle name. And you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.

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