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unspeakable
torture.
    ‘No,’
Jules cried out as something sloppy flapped into her ear.
    Opening
her eyes, she shifted position to face her attacker, preparing to fight.
     
‘Max,’ she sighed, her body relaxing at the sight of the dog lying on top of
the duvet next to her.
    Shrugging
her arms free of the cover, she spread her fingers through Max’s smooth
fur.    
    ‘Morning,’
a voice called from the doorway.
    Jules’
eyes darted to bedroom door as horror filled her again. ‘Oh.’
    She
had not been kidnapped. She had not discovered a dead body. But she had slept
in someone else’s bed, and that someone stood in the doorway with two steaming
mugs and an amused smile. Shit, Jules cursed herself.
    ‘Good
morning,’ Rich said as he crossed the room; stepping over what looked to be her
clothes spread across the pale laminate floor.
    In a
flash, Jules moved under the covers, relieved to feel the fabric of her underwear
still intact.
    ‘Don’t
worry, I stopped you before you stripped totally naked,’ he said, reading her
wide-eyes and open mouth.
    ‘What?’
Red heat crept across her face.
    Feeling
suddenly exposed, she pulled the duvet up to her chin, struggling to pull a
wining Max with her as she shuffled to a sitting position.
    ‘Here
you go.’ Rich handed her a hot mug.
    ‘Thanks.’
     ‘How
you feeling?’ Rich asked as he moved back to the door, leaning his tall body
against the frame.
    Like
she’d had a fight with a very angry bear swinging a baseball bat and lost, she
thought.
    ‘Not
bad’ she lied, running her tongue across the ridge of her mouth. The taste had
the fur of a bear’s arse feel to it.
    ‘Remember
much from last night?’ He took a long sip from his mug, keeping the blue of his
eyes on her.
    ‘Most
of it, I think.’
    Jules
willed her mind to uncover the memories of the last twenty-four hours. She
remembered finding Guy in her house. She remembered, with a wave of anger, the second
newspaper story; and she remembered sitting in Terri’s van. She had a hazy
image of entering the pub and drinking several of Rich’s cocktails, but nothing
more.         
     ‘Dancing
on the bar?’
    ‘WHAT?’
she cried out, the decibels of her own screech sending another wave of
throbbing pain through her head. ‘I did not do that.’
    ‘Okay,
okay, I was joking.’ Rich held up his mug-free hand. ‘You didn’t dance on the
bar.’
    ‘Good.’
    ‘Just
on the floor,’ he added, his face stretching into the same grin she remembered
from their first meeting. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen whenever you’re ready,
there’s no rush,’ he continued before Jules could question his comment.
    ‘Rich
wait,’ she called after him, trying to ignore another wave of nausea flooding
her system.
    ‘Yeah,’
he turned to face her.
    ‘Seriously,
what happened last night? Between us I mean.’ Another rush of heat crossed her
cheeks.
    He
paused for a minute, a light smile touching his face. ‘Nothing Jules. You were
upset about the stories in the paper. Terri asked me to make you one of my
specials. Two shots of Gordon’s , ginger ale and orange juice. Well, they
are pretty lethal and-’
    ‘And
that’s when you thought you’d invite me back here and take advantage?’
    The
second she saw Rich’s expression change she knew she’d made a mistake. The
amusement fell from his face.
    ‘No
actually. Funnily enough, paralytic women are not my type,’ he shot back. ‘You
had a few too many, and if you must know, I didn’t invite you anywhere, you
invited yourself. You practically begged me to sleep with you. I stayed in the
spare room, okay? Come on Max it’s time for your breakfast.’
    He
strode away, followed by an obedient Max.   
    Had
she really thrown herself at him? Jules wondered as vague memories of the
previous night filtered back. She remember taking off her jumper and the heat
of Rich’s body as she’d lent towards him, but what had she said? 
    To
Jules’ horror, she