Read Online Hysterical Blondeness by Suzanne Macpherson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Macpherson
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she know Lizbeth had put out the ultimatum on Brett? No ring, no ding? No more private lingerie showings till he came up with a giant Nordquist-sized rock for her finger?
And did she know Brett had been bargaining for more time?
Paul thanked the waitress for her quick delivery of his lunch and tried not to look their way. After all, it was none of his business if she wanted to date the devil.
Speak of the devil…here came Lizbeth. Paul turned his face into the shadows and pretended to eat his seafood linguini. Oh God, he hoped Patricia remembered some of that self-defense he’d taught her.
The click click clicking sound of Lizbeth’s heels was sharp against Via’s parquet wood floor. Each click made Paul jump a little. He was damn glad she wasn’t his girlfriend. What a temper on that woman. Paul braced himself to come to Patricia’s defense.
From what he could gather without actually getting up and listening, words were beingminced, diced, and handed out. Paul put his hand on Patricia’s shoulder. Patricia smiled. Lizbeth cocked her pretty blonde head and removed her hands from her hips. No food was thrown, and no water splashed in anyone’s face. Lizbeth, apparently satisfied, turned on her heel and departed.
Of course, she left a wake of gossip trailing her like a sexy, sleek speedboat shooting the waves across Puget Sound. One of those fiberglass jobs.
Paul poked at his linguini for an interminable amount of time, ignoring Patricia and the scumbag. He finally realized he’d lost his appetite. He signaled his waitress for a check. His waitress was very nice, and on another day he might have applied his suave Italian self to getting to know her better and perhaps scoring her phone number. Today, he just paid.
When the receipt came back it had her name and phone number and a little smiley face written on it. She winked at him and flounced away. Now, here was a girl who would take his advice. She’d shown no hints of making stupid decisions when she’d recommended the linguini. He took her number and tucked it in his suit pocket.
One more glance Patricia’s direction only made him crazy again. He watched her get all flirty with Brett. Then she looked like she was crying. She dabbed at her eyes with her white linen napkin. He couldn’t let idiot Brett make her cry. Paul geared up to head over there. But then she raised her head and laughed a big Patricia laugh.
Paul shook his head again. She was just laughing and flirting. His Patricia didn’t do that stupid flirt thing. Hadn’t they had long talks over a microbrew beer-tasting on the deck this summer about not putting on a false face in their never-ending search for the right mate?
After all, perfect mates had to accept you the way you were, didn’t they? Paul closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. He was all mixed up. He wanted to rush over there and pull Patricia right off that slick red leather bench seat and drag her out of here, kiss her hard, and make her forget all about Brett. For a moment he pictured her captured in the executive elevator, her warm red lips giving in to him.
He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. All he could think about was running kisses up her neck and into that blonde fluffy hair of hers.
He had to stop. This was one of his best friends and one of his housemates. He rubbed his forehead and dismissed the runaway fantasy.
When he looked up, the cute waitress was looking at him funny. She was a redhead, a nice solid redhead. He should focus on someone like her and forget his temporary insanity with blondes. Well, one blonde in particular. The new, improved Patricia the blonde.
Chapter Six
Things are often spoke
and seldom meant.
Shakespeare
Damned contacts. Tears kept welling up and leaking down her face. Of course you can’t expect to get a good set of contacts in less than an hour. That’s like the fast food of contacts. They were Want fries with that? contacts.
Perhaps it was the garlic bread she
And did she know Brett had been bargaining for more time?
Paul thanked the waitress for her quick delivery of his lunch and tried not to look their way. After all, it was none of his business if she wanted to date the devil.
Speak of the devil…here came Lizbeth. Paul turned his face into the shadows and pretended to eat his seafood linguini. Oh God, he hoped Patricia remembered some of that self-defense he’d taught her.
The click click clicking sound of Lizbeth’s heels was sharp against Via’s parquet wood floor. Each click made Paul jump a little. He was damn glad she wasn’t his girlfriend. What a temper on that woman. Paul braced himself to come to Patricia’s defense.
From what he could gather without actually getting up and listening, words were beingminced, diced, and handed out. Paul put his hand on Patricia’s shoulder. Patricia smiled. Lizbeth cocked her pretty blonde head and removed her hands from her hips. No food was thrown, and no water splashed in anyone’s face. Lizbeth, apparently satisfied, turned on her heel and departed.
Of course, she left a wake of gossip trailing her like a sexy, sleek speedboat shooting the waves across Puget Sound. One of those fiberglass jobs.
Paul poked at his linguini for an interminable amount of time, ignoring Patricia and the scumbag. He finally realized he’d lost his appetite. He signaled his waitress for a check. His waitress was very nice, and on another day he might have applied his suave Italian self to getting to know her better and perhaps scoring her phone number. Today, he just paid.
When the receipt came back it had her name and phone number and a little smiley face written on it. She winked at him and flounced away. Now, here was a girl who would take his advice. She’d shown no hints of making stupid decisions when she’d recommended the linguini. He took her number and tucked it in his suit pocket.
One more glance Patricia’s direction only made him crazy again. He watched her get all flirty with Brett. Then she looked like she was crying. She dabbed at her eyes with her white linen napkin. He couldn’t let idiot Brett make her cry. Paul geared up to head over there. But then she raised her head and laughed a big Patricia laugh.
Paul shook his head again. She was just laughing and flirting. His Patricia didn’t do that stupid flirt thing. Hadn’t they had long talks over a microbrew beer-tasting on the deck this summer about not putting on a false face in their never-ending search for the right mate?
After all, perfect mates had to accept you the way you were, didn’t they? Paul closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. He was all mixed up. He wanted to rush over there and pull Patricia right off that slick red leather bench seat and drag her out of here, kiss her hard, and make her forget all about Brett. For a moment he pictured her captured in the executive elevator, her warm red lips giving in to him.
He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. All he could think about was running kisses up her neck and into that blonde fluffy hair of hers.
He had to stop. This was one of his best friends and one of his housemates. He rubbed his forehead and dismissed the runaway fantasy.
When he looked up, the cute waitress was looking at him funny. She was a redhead, a nice solid redhead. He should focus on someone like her and forget his temporary insanity with blondes. Well, one blonde in particular. The new, improved Patricia the blonde.
Chapter Six
Things are often spoke
and seldom meant.
Shakespeare
Damned contacts. Tears kept welling up and leaking down her face. Of course you can’t expect to get a good set of contacts in less than an hour. That’s like the fast food of contacts. They were Want fries with that? contacts.
Perhaps it was the garlic bread she
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