the flesh, trailed by guards and gardeners, two-fisted luggage bearers all, putting a mountain of suitcases down around her . . . and going back for more? “How the hell many suitcases did you bring?”
“Enough.” Counter to his request, Harmony’s tight royal blue V-neck tee said, Here Comes Trouble. She faced his crew, shifted her hips, raised her arms, and said, “Here I am, you lucky boys.”
They cheered and applauded, and she took a bow.
King gritted his teeth at her rebellious shirt and late arrival. He shouldn’t be happy to see trouble. “It’s about time,” he said. “Look at this mess. My men have been fighting all morning.”
“You think it’s easy to find three water taxis at one time? I wasn’t leaving my luggage on the dock for the next taxi, like the first driver suggested.” She held up three fingers. “Three, at one time.”
“Curt,” King said, taking Harmony’s arm. “Open the cooler and take a break before going back to work. When the men have rested, have a dozen of them bring Miss Cartwright’s bags up to the suite.” All thirty-three plucking mismatched pieces.
“Planning to stay for the millennium?” he asked her. “Or did you bring empty suitcases to carry your vintage clothes home in?”
“Heck no. I’ll get them home later. I brought the essentials—clothes, shoes, toiletries, makeup. There’s no Shoppers Heaven next door, you know.”
“Hey, boss,” Curt said. “What do you want me to do with the cats?”
King turned, wondering if Curt got punched in the head during the brawl. “What cats?”
“My cats,” Harmony said.
“You brought cats? Are you out of your mind?”
“They’re sweet cats.”
“No cats.”
“Hey, I came to live with mice, I brought cats. They go, I go.”
“How many?”
“Tigerstar and her kittens, Gingertigger, Caramello, and Warlock. They’re too young to be away from her. Do we stay or do we go? Think about it. We’ll wait outside for your answer.” Trouble in blue spikes picked up her cat carrier and let the castle doors slam behind her.
Gussie wailed fit to wake the dead—her blooming peers, damn it!
His men pretended to work as he went to the door and opened it.
Free from their crate, three bouncing baby felines chased butterflies, their tails, and each other, while the brat lounged on the castle steps, filing her nails—white nails crowned by rainbows.
With her head tilted toward the water, her blonde hair curled under her chin and covered her face on his side. Sexy. Man-hardening. He should know. Legs that went on forever, catching some rays, kicking his libido into high gear, overriding the sanest fury he’d ever experienced.
“Cartwright,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
She stood, as graceful as the queen of . . . the castle . . . and when she and her quartet of felines came back in, those cats held their chins as high as the sexpot did.
“My castle is your castle,” King said with visionary dread.
----
Chapter Fifteen
RAISING the bar on her determination to take the starch out of Paxton, the first thing Harmony did after arriving—as soon as the opportunity presented itself—was find Paxton’s briefcase and replace his dull silver paper clips with pink penis paper clips. A small victory, but a start.
Penis paper clips might not unstarch him for good, but he might actually crack a smile.
After that, she spent the afternoon in the west wing’s nautical library searching for any mention of her ring, Gussie, or Lisette in Nicodemus Paxton’s ship’s logs.
Perusing them, she saw that Nicodemus spent years at sea, bringing Gussie gifts from all over the world on the rare occasions he came home. Harmony sensed he’d never completely given Gussie his heart, while his life, he’d given to the sea. Oh, he brought toys home in hopes of a family, but they never had one, which helped explain Gussie’s discontent. On the other hand, if he rarely came home, no wonder they didn’t
“Enough.” Counter to his request, Harmony’s tight royal blue V-neck tee said, Here Comes Trouble. She faced his crew, shifted her hips, raised her arms, and said, “Here I am, you lucky boys.”
They cheered and applauded, and she took a bow.
King gritted his teeth at her rebellious shirt and late arrival. He shouldn’t be happy to see trouble. “It’s about time,” he said. “Look at this mess. My men have been fighting all morning.”
“You think it’s easy to find three water taxis at one time? I wasn’t leaving my luggage on the dock for the next taxi, like the first driver suggested.” She held up three fingers. “Three, at one time.”
“Curt,” King said, taking Harmony’s arm. “Open the cooler and take a break before going back to work. When the men have rested, have a dozen of them bring Miss Cartwright’s bags up to the suite.” All thirty-three plucking mismatched pieces.
“Planning to stay for the millennium?” he asked her. “Or did you bring empty suitcases to carry your vintage clothes home in?”
“Heck no. I’ll get them home later. I brought the essentials—clothes, shoes, toiletries, makeup. There’s no Shoppers Heaven next door, you know.”
“Hey, boss,” Curt said. “What do you want me to do with the cats?”
King turned, wondering if Curt got punched in the head during the brawl. “What cats?”
“My cats,” Harmony said.
“You brought cats? Are you out of your mind?”
“They’re sweet cats.”
“No cats.”
“Hey, I came to live with mice, I brought cats. They go, I go.”
“How many?”
“Tigerstar and her kittens, Gingertigger, Caramello, and Warlock. They’re too young to be away from her. Do we stay or do we go? Think about it. We’ll wait outside for your answer.” Trouble in blue spikes picked up her cat carrier and let the castle doors slam behind her.
Gussie wailed fit to wake the dead—her blooming peers, damn it!
His men pretended to work as he went to the door and opened it.
Free from their crate, three bouncing baby felines chased butterflies, their tails, and each other, while the brat lounged on the castle steps, filing her nails—white nails crowned by rainbows.
With her head tilted toward the water, her blonde hair curled under her chin and covered her face on his side. Sexy. Man-hardening. He should know. Legs that went on forever, catching some rays, kicking his libido into high gear, overriding the sanest fury he’d ever experienced.
“Cartwright,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
She stood, as graceful as the queen of . . . the castle . . . and when she and her quartet of felines came back in, those cats held their chins as high as the sexpot did.
“My castle is your castle,” King said with visionary dread.
----
Chapter Fifteen
RAISING the bar on her determination to take the starch out of Paxton, the first thing Harmony did after arriving—as soon as the opportunity presented itself—was find Paxton’s briefcase and replace his dull silver paper clips with pink penis paper clips. A small victory, but a start.
Penis paper clips might not unstarch him for good, but he might actually crack a smile.
After that, she spent the afternoon in the west wing’s nautical library searching for any mention of her ring, Gussie, or Lisette in Nicodemus Paxton’s ship’s logs.
Perusing them, she saw that Nicodemus spent years at sea, bringing Gussie gifts from all over the world on the rare occasions he came home. Harmony sensed he’d never completely given Gussie his heart, while his life, he’d given to the sea. Oh, he brought toys home in hopes of a family, but they never had one, which helped explain Gussie’s discontent. On the other hand, if he rarely came home, no wonder they didn’t
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