Read Online Florida Knight by Blair Bancroft - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Blair Bancroft
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from heaven. The chair was man-size, fitting his weary body as if made for him. The little sounds Kate made as she rattled utensils and pans, brought back memories of home and mother. Not that he hadn’t had a line-up of women wanting to cook for him, but somehow it never felt like this. Must be the two drinks on an empty stomach. On top of being so damned tired. Michael guided the scotch to his lips without opening his eyes.
Something sharp stung his leg. The lavender rocker quivered as Michael sat bolt upright. The four-letter word which blued the air onl y brought a chortle from Kate.
“Sorry,” she said. “That’s Ace. He’s not very brave, probably hid under the chair when you came in. But he finally got bored and decided to attack your shoelaces instead.”
“Obviously, he can’t distinguish shoelaces from skin,” Michael growled, balefully eyeing the gray and white striped cat. He had come dangerously close to kicking the damn thing across the room, but recalled in the nick of time that the aggressive little monster undoubtedly belonged to Kate. Angering her was definitely not on the agenda at the moment.
Kate slid a bowl of chili onto the table, added a salad of mixed greens, a tall glass of iced tea. “You can come and get it,” she announced.
This was the first time he’d relaxed in more than seventy-two hours; Michael wasn’t at all sure he was going to be able to get up and make it the few steps across the room. But there the Valkyrie stood—nearly six full feet of her—daring him to get up. He swallowed a groan, levered himself up by bracing his hands on the fat lavender arms of the chair. Lavender. Was she? . . . No, no way. The girl was celibate, not gay. Celibate. Remember that, Turco. Think nun. Not that he was capable of anything more than a stray lustful thought at the moment.
Oh, hell, there was even a small bowl of chopped onion and a container of hot pepper flakes. The smell of the steaming chili hit him. Michael collapsed onto the kitchen chair and dove in.
Sometime after his second bowl of chili, his third helping of salad, and three vanilla creme cookies, Michael managed a mumbled thank-you. “So why are you being so nice after I was such a bastard ?” he inquired.
“Feminine instinct,” Kate tossed back. “Some atavistic urge that says a hungry man must be fed. Even if it was the devil who was hungry, we’d probably feed him.”
“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
Kate’s lips quirked into a naughty grin. Ignoring Michael’s sarcasm, she assured him he was welcome. “Think you’re up to trying on your costume now?”
Michael buried his head in his hands. “Lord, woman, I’d hoped you’d forgotten.”
“No way. The weekend is practically on us.” Kate broke off. “You can get away, can’t you?”
“Yeah,” Michael sighed, “the worst is over. Except for the poor guy’s family, and the construction crews who’ll have to work round the clock on the bridge. There’s a lot more paper work, but there shouldn’t be any problem.”
“How early can you get off on Friday?”
“Four.”
“Good. I get off at one, so I’ll have everything packed and ready to go, including your costumes. You’ll need a toothbrush, underwear, razor—that kind of thing. I’ll have everything else.”
“Costumes?” Michael didn’t care for the plural.
“I told you . ” Kate sighed. “You need day wear and feast wear. I’m providing your feast gear, so you needn’t worry about that.”
It was a foreign language. He’d conquer this as he did everything else. And not by shouting. He’d learn the damned LALOC lingo if it killed him.
“Okay, let’s do it,” Michael growled. He shoved back his chair and stood, pleased to discover his legs had recovered their spring.
“No way. No way in hell!” Michael’s shout sent Ace scurrying back under the lavender rocker. “These things are harem pants!”
“Eunuchs wore them too,” Kate replied smoothly, reaching for a
Something sharp stung his leg. The lavender rocker quivered as Michael sat bolt upright. The four-letter word which blued the air onl y brought a chortle from Kate.
“Sorry,” she said. “That’s Ace. He’s not very brave, probably hid under the chair when you came in. But he finally got bored and decided to attack your shoelaces instead.”
“Obviously, he can’t distinguish shoelaces from skin,” Michael growled, balefully eyeing the gray and white striped cat. He had come dangerously close to kicking the damn thing across the room, but recalled in the nick of time that the aggressive little monster undoubtedly belonged to Kate. Angering her was definitely not on the agenda at the moment.
Kate slid a bowl of chili onto the table, added a salad of mixed greens, a tall glass of iced tea. “You can come and get it,” she announced.
This was the first time he’d relaxed in more than seventy-two hours; Michael wasn’t at all sure he was going to be able to get up and make it the few steps across the room. But there the Valkyrie stood—nearly six full feet of her—daring him to get up. He swallowed a groan, levered himself up by bracing his hands on the fat lavender arms of the chair. Lavender. Was she? . . . No, no way. The girl was celibate, not gay. Celibate. Remember that, Turco. Think nun. Not that he was capable of anything more than a stray lustful thought at the moment.
Oh, hell, there was even a small bowl of chopped onion and a container of hot pepper flakes. The smell of the steaming chili hit him. Michael collapsed onto the kitchen chair and dove in.
Sometime after his second bowl of chili, his third helping of salad, and three vanilla creme cookies, Michael managed a mumbled thank-you. “So why are you being so nice after I was such a bastard ?” he inquired.
“Feminine instinct,” Kate tossed back. “Some atavistic urge that says a hungry man must be fed. Even if it was the devil who was hungry, we’d probably feed him.”
“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
Kate’s lips quirked into a naughty grin. Ignoring Michael’s sarcasm, she assured him he was welcome. “Think you’re up to trying on your costume now?”
Michael buried his head in his hands. “Lord, woman, I’d hoped you’d forgotten.”
“No way. The weekend is practically on us.” Kate broke off. “You can get away, can’t you?”
“Yeah,” Michael sighed, “the worst is over. Except for the poor guy’s family, and the construction crews who’ll have to work round the clock on the bridge. There’s a lot more paper work, but there shouldn’t be any problem.”
“How early can you get off on Friday?”
“Four.”
“Good. I get off at one, so I’ll have everything packed and ready to go, including your costumes. You’ll need a toothbrush, underwear, razor—that kind of thing. I’ll have everything else.”
“Costumes?” Michael didn’t care for the plural.
“I told you . ” Kate sighed. “You need day wear and feast wear. I’m providing your feast gear, so you needn’t worry about that.”
It was a foreign language. He’d conquer this as he did everything else. And not by shouting. He’d learn the damned LALOC lingo if it killed him.
“Okay, let’s do it,” Michael growled. He shoved back his chair and stood, pleased to discover his legs had recovered their spring.
“No way. No way in hell!” Michael’s shout sent Ace scurrying back under the lavender rocker. “These things are harem pants!”
“Eunuchs wore them too,” Kate replied smoothly, reaching for a
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