We took the elevator to the second floor to avoid dripping seawater all through the house and up the grand staircase. I led Bonnie to the master suite, where I fished some clean sweatpants and a t-shirt from my drawers.
“These are going to be way too big on you, but the pants have a drawstring, so at least they’ll stay up.”
And why is the thought of you in my baggy sweat pants turning me on?
She took the clothes from me with a warm smile. “Thanks. I guess this is your room?”
“It is.”
And you look good in it.Where did that thought come from? Talk about rogue waves, that was a rogue thought.
I pointed at the door to the adjoining bath. “Bathroom’s in there if you need to use it. There’s a hair dryer under the sink. In fact, if you want to shower, you’re welcome to it.”
You’d look even better in that.
And now we’re picturing the reporter naked in the shower. Not appropriate. But perfectly natural considering the circumstances.
“Oh no. Thank you. I’ll just towel off and put these on. My hair’s fine—it dries fast. I’ll be right down.”
“Okay, suit yourself. No hurry. I’m gonna go tell the kitchen staff you’re staying for dinner.”
Grabbing some dry clothes for myself first, I left the room, changed in the guest room next door, then headed downstairs.
As I descended the grand staircase, I noticed there was a whistle echoing off the walls and marble floor of the foyer. It was a happy tune.
And it was coming fromme.
Will wonders never cease?
Chapter Fourteen
Curiosity Killed the Article
Bonnie
I regretted declining Jack’s invitation to bathe as soon as I got a look at his spectacular bathtub.
It was a huge, sunken garden tub with a view of the ocean through the picture window beside it and a gas fireplace at the end.
Correction to my earlier statement on the beach—if I lived here, I’d never leavethis room. Gleaming white and lined with sparkling mirrors, it was the bathroom of my dreams.
Unable to resist, I climbed into the dry tub and stretched out. I leaned forward and touched the knob next to the fireplace, wondering how to turn it on, then pulled my fingers back and folded them against my stomach.
Curiosity had always been my downfall, though I supposed it made for a good journalist. Relaxing for a moment against the very comfortable back wall of the tub, I stared out at the gorgeous view.
If I really believed there wasanychance of making this kind of money with my writing, I’d go directly to my laptop and start revising that neglected book of mine tonight.
Actually, after what Jack had said today, Iwasconsidering dusting it off for a fresh read-through and maybe even sending a few queries to literary agents. What was the worst that could happen? They’d say no.
It would sting, no doubt. But if I never tried, the answer would definitely be no.
Sure, the chances of my becoming hugely successful like Jack were infinitesimal, but there might besomeeditor out there who’d like my book and want to publish it. And if not this book, maybe the next. Jack’s first book hadn’t been a huge hit, either.
My insides vibrated with excitement as I thought about writing something new. I even had a spark of an idea. Something about a regular girl being suddenly dropped into a world of fame and luxury and not quite knowing whether she liked it or hated it.
I definitely liked this tub, though.
Reluctantly, I climbed out of it and left the marvelous bathroom. Jack’s bedroom was just as impressive. Spacious and tastefully decorated in neutral greys and beiges, it was masculine and yet luxurious at the same time.
