Chances Are by Erica Spindler

Author:Erica Spindler [Spindler, Erica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Erica Spindler
Published: 1989-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Veronique was awakened by a loud rapping. Groaning, she rolled onto her side and pulled the pillow over her head. The sound came again. Damn neighbors, she fumed, realizing she wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep. Didn't they know it was Saturday morning? She sat up in bed, pushed the hair out of her eyes and squinted at the clock. Eight-twelve—the middle of the night as far as she was concerned.

The rapping came again, and Veronique jumped. It wasn't her neighbors; there was someone at her front door! Whoever it was she would have their head. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she called, pushing away the covers and getting out of bed. She stomped toward the door, cursing under her breath the whole way.

She swung the door open; the indignant tirade died on her lips. It was Brandon. He looked wide awake, freshly pressed and way too appealing. The jerk. "What," she asked, making a great show of irritation, "do you want?"

Brandon's lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. He could spend a lifetime surprising her. "I like your pj's," he said, eyeing the oversize garments. "Cowboys, aren't they?"

"Dale Evans and Roy Rogers commemorative pajamas," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest. "You never answered my question."

"I brought breakfast." Her voice was still froggy with sleep; her hair was a tangle of whiskey-colored silk. Brandon decided she'd never looked more desirable. "Sausage-and-ham biscuits from Popeyes."

"Yeah?" She caught a whiff of the biscuits, and her mouth began to water. Popeyes, known for its spicy Cajun chicken, had the best biscuits in the South. "Got any coffee in there?" she asked grudgingly.

"I was depending on you to supply the coffee."

"You're pushing it, Rhodes." Veronique scowled, but stepped aside. "Instant's going to have to do."

He followed her to the kitchen. "Are you always surly in the morning, or did you have a bad night?"

She filled the teakettle with water, took the jar of coffee from the shelf and got out two cups. That done, she turned back toward him. "I like to sleep." She absently scratched her arm. "What's your story? Are you always this chipper in the morning, or are you only doing this just to bug me?" His smile was her answer, and she sagged against the counter, resting her chin on her fist. "I'm too sleepy to fight back."

He smiled. "That's like handing a killer a loaded gun."

The curving of his lips was slow and sexy. Veronique's toes curled. The man packed quite a punch. "A gentleman would have let that pass."

"True," Brandon murmured, his eyes lowering. In her bent position, her huge pajama top opened slightly, revealing the creamy swell of one breast. Desire was swift and stunning; his abdomen tightened with it. He wanted to peel away those silly garments and discover the woman beneath—discover her with his hands and mouth and tongue. His eyes returned to hers. "But a gentleman wouldn't be standing here thinking about taking advantage of a semiconscious woman."

A thrill raced up her spine.

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