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Authors: Phyllis Halldorson
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herself and cooperate.
After splashing her face with cold water to banish the last of the drowsiness from her deep slumber, she brushed her teeth with the complimentary toothbrush and paste in her bathroom, then put on a white terry-cloth robe supplied by the hotel and went looking for Fergus.
She found him in the living room, working at a desk. She vaguely remembered his saying there was a fold-down bed in there, but if he’d slept on it, it had already been put back into the wall, because it was nowhere in sight.
“Well, hello there, sleepyhead,” he said with a smile as he looked up. “I was just about to check on you again to make sure you were okay.”
Her eyes widened. “Again?”
He got up and walked over to her. He was wearing jeans, with a dark-green polo shirt open at the throat, and he looked relaxed and incredibly sexy.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I looked in on you before I went to bed, and again when I woke up this morning. I’m sorry if I invaded your privacy, but I was worried. You were in such a state last night....”
“I don’t mind,” she quickly replied. “That was thoughtful of you. I’m just sorry it took me so long to wake up. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so soundly before.”
“That’s not unusual for someone who’s been shocked as deeply as you have.” His warm, caring gaze roamed over her. “You’re looking much better this morning. Do you feel up to answering some questions after we’ve had something to eat?”
“Sure, I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” she said, “but I can’t go out for lunch without any clothes.”
“No problem.” He walked across the room and picked up some parcels from the floor on the other side of his desk. “Your friend Anna stopped by on her way to work and brought you the things you’ll need.”
Sharon was startled. “Anna did? But how did she know...?” Then her unreliable memory cleared again. “Oh yes, that’s right, we called her when we got here.” Sharon shook her head impatiently. “I seem to be having trouble remembering all the things that happened after I found Floyd...”
Her voice wavered and she fought back a surge of horror at the memory of Floyd collapsed in a heap on the floor, with a letter opener sticking out of his chest.
“You’re doing just fine,” Fergus assured her, and walked across the room. “I’ll put these things in the bedroom. I had coffee sent up earlier. It’s there on the bar, if you’d like a cup before you get dressed. There’s orange juice, too.”
At the mention of food Sharon realized that she was starved. “Yes, I would,” she said as she headed for the large bar area in one corner of the room. “I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday morning.”
Fergus muttered an oath. “Didn’t they feed you in jail?”
She poured steaming coffee out of the carafe into a china cup. “I was just about to go for lunch, when the letter came,” she said thoughtfully. “Then the police questioned me all afternoon. I seem to remember a tray being brought to me in my cell later, but I was too sick and upset to eat.”
She took a swallow of the hot brew and savored it as it trickled down her throat.
“Drink a big glass of the orange juice there, too,” he said as he disappeared into the bedroom before he could see the face she made at him. He hadn’t changed a bit. He was still bossing her around, but somehow it didn’t bother her now.
* * *
Sharon was curled up in the corner of the black vinyl couch when Fergus returned, and his breath caught in his throat when he looked at her. She was sitting with her legs under her and the skirt of the terry robe draped over them, but the garment was too big and the bodice tended to gape when she relaxed her shoulders, revealing the top slope of her full breasts.
She had both hands wrapped around the coffee cup as she held it, and her blue eyes were unfocused while she gazed off into space. Her face was
After splashing her face with cold water to banish the last of the drowsiness from her deep slumber, she brushed her teeth with the complimentary toothbrush and paste in her bathroom, then put on a white terry-cloth robe supplied by the hotel and went looking for Fergus.
She found him in the living room, working at a desk. She vaguely remembered his saying there was a fold-down bed in there, but if he’d slept on it, it had already been put back into the wall, because it was nowhere in sight.
“Well, hello there, sleepyhead,” he said with a smile as he looked up. “I was just about to check on you again to make sure you were okay.”
Her eyes widened. “Again?”
He got up and walked over to her. He was wearing jeans, with a dark-green polo shirt open at the throat, and he looked relaxed and incredibly sexy.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I looked in on you before I went to bed, and again when I woke up this morning. I’m sorry if I invaded your privacy, but I was worried. You were in such a state last night....”
“I don’t mind,” she quickly replied. “That was thoughtful of you. I’m just sorry it took me so long to wake up. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so soundly before.”
“That’s not unusual for someone who’s been shocked as deeply as you have.” His warm, caring gaze roamed over her. “You’re looking much better this morning. Do you feel up to answering some questions after we’ve had something to eat?”
“Sure, I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” she said, “but I can’t go out for lunch without any clothes.”
“No problem.” He walked across the room and picked up some parcels from the floor on the other side of his desk. “Your friend Anna stopped by on her way to work and brought you the things you’ll need.”
Sharon was startled. “Anna did? But how did she know...?” Then her unreliable memory cleared again. “Oh yes, that’s right, we called her when we got here.” Sharon shook her head impatiently. “I seem to be having trouble remembering all the things that happened after I found Floyd...”
Her voice wavered and she fought back a surge of horror at the memory of Floyd collapsed in a heap on the floor, with a letter opener sticking out of his chest.
“You’re doing just fine,” Fergus assured her, and walked across the room. “I’ll put these things in the bedroom. I had coffee sent up earlier. It’s there on the bar, if you’d like a cup before you get dressed. There’s orange juice, too.”
At the mention of food Sharon realized that she was starved. “Yes, I would,” she said as she headed for the large bar area in one corner of the room. “I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday morning.”
Fergus muttered an oath. “Didn’t they feed you in jail?”
She poured steaming coffee out of the carafe into a china cup. “I was just about to go for lunch, when the letter came,” she said thoughtfully. “Then the police questioned me all afternoon. I seem to remember a tray being brought to me in my cell later, but I was too sick and upset to eat.”
She took a swallow of the hot brew and savored it as it trickled down her throat.
“Drink a big glass of the orange juice there, too,” he said as he disappeared into the bedroom before he could see the face she made at him. He hadn’t changed a bit. He was still bossing her around, but somehow it didn’t bother her now.
* * *
Sharon was curled up in the corner of the black vinyl couch when Fergus returned, and his breath caught in his throat when he looked at her. She was sitting with her legs under her and the skirt of the terry robe draped over them, but the garment was too big and the bodice tended to gape when she relaxed her shoulders, revealing the top slope of her full breasts.
She had both hands wrapped around the coffee cup as she held it, and her blue eyes were unfocused while she gazed off into space. Her face was
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