that
she was doing the right thing calling in, allowing plenty of time for her
manager to run around like a wet hen looking for a replacement for her, should
be enough. Why did he have to demand an explanation? Sick was sick, it needed
no further discussion. How hard could it be for someone else to do her job? It
was not like you had to be a genius to file, photocopy and maintain
spreadsheets all day. “I prefer not to discuss it over the phone.” Wanker. As
he continued dribbling on with the whiny questions, Stella decided she had
listened to him long enough. “Fine. I had wild passionate sex with a thief and
it was so damn good that I can barely walk. Is that a good enough reason? If I’m
not having earth shattering sex with the thief again tomorrow then I’ll be in.”
She hung the phone up. Stella looked up to see Kit’s amused gaze her. “I hate
that frigging job and now I have a reason to leave.”
“Before you get fired.” Kit had never heard any one use sex
as an excuse. It was certainly different. But then, so was Stella Rowallan.
“Something like that.” Stella knew there was every
likelihood that she was going get the sack, but she would cross that bridge and
blow it up behind her if and when that happened.
“So how are your legs?” Kit looked down at the bruises he
was pretty sure he had unintentionally given her. He felt bad about that. He
touched her thigh softly. “Do they hurt?”
She had to admit it was awfully sweet that Kit had asked and
that he sounded was so concerned.
“They’re fine.” Stella did not add that the man had marked
her for life, as that was too much information for him to have. “I bruise
easily. I’ll get over it.”
They both knew she wasn’t just talking about marks on the
surface of her skin.
“We have to return the idol.” Stella had to get back on
track. The plan, in order of importance, was to get Kit to take the idol back
to the museum. Then tomorrow she would look for a new job and get over sex with
thief. All pretty obvious stuff. That was all she needed to concentrate on. Not
the man with the soft, tender look in his eyes. Look away, look away .
“What’s wrong?” Kit didn’t expect an answer to that question
as he suspected Stella didn’t give them easily. He could wait.
“Nothing.” Everything, she added to herself.
“Did you get any sleep?”
After driving Kit and herself into a frenzy earlier, Stella
had staggered off to bed to leave him to his emails. She was so tired she had
collapsed onto her bed without changing. When she woke up three hours later she
woke up gasping for air. She had had the worst dream. It was soul shaking and
ghastly and not something she ever imagined she would dream about anyone, let
alone Kit Kincaid. From what little she had seen of the marriages around her,
she could understand why the divorce rate was high. Her friends seemed trapped
and totally incompatible and she never wanted to be in that position. She woke
up sweating and clutching her pillow. In her dream she had married Kit. It had
been this nice, sweet, romantic ceremony with Stella all dressed in white and
Kit looking all proud and happy. Stella shivered as she thought about it. She
was not one of those girly girls who dreamed stuff like this. The obvious explanation
had to be that she had just come from Simone’s wedding, hence the reason she
had been dreaming about marrying Kit. She could also throw in some Freudian
thing to do with penises and that would explain the reason for this dream about
marrying the thief.
“I slept fine.” Stella stated simply. There was no need for
Kit to know about one dumb dream. Time to move on. Back to whatever plan she
was onto now. What was it Plan E or F? Whatever. “What does one wear on this
type of mission to the museum? Black?” Until this moment, she had all but
forgotten the reason Kit was there. But she had been through a lot and it was
understandable how she lost the plot for a moment.
“Yeah with
she was doing the right thing calling in, allowing plenty of time for her
manager to run around like a wet hen looking for a replacement for her, should
be enough. Why did he have to demand an explanation? Sick was sick, it needed
no further discussion. How hard could it be for someone else to do her job? It
was not like you had to be a genius to file, photocopy and maintain
spreadsheets all day. “I prefer not to discuss it over the phone.” Wanker. As
he continued dribbling on with the whiny questions, Stella decided she had
listened to him long enough. “Fine. I had wild passionate sex with a thief and
it was so damn good that I can barely walk. Is that a good enough reason? If I’m
not having earth shattering sex with the thief again tomorrow then I’ll be in.”
She hung the phone up. Stella looked up to see Kit’s amused gaze her. “I hate
that frigging job and now I have a reason to leave.”
“Before you get fired.” Kit had never heard any one use sex
as an excuse. It was certainly different. But then, so was Stella Rowallan.
“Something like that.” Stella knew there was every
likelihood that she was going get the sack, but she would cross that bridge and
blow it up behind her if and when that happened.
“So how are your legs?” Kit looked down at the bruises he
was pretty sure he had unintentionally given her. He felt bad about that. He
touched her thigh softly. “Do they hurt?”
She had to admit it was awfully sweet that Kit had asked and
that he sounded was so concerned.
“They’re fine.” Stella did not add that the man had marked
her for life, as that was too much information for him to have. “I bruise
easily. I’ll get over it.”
They both knew she wasn’t just talking about marks on the
surface of her skin.
“We have to return the idol.” Stella had to get back on
track. The plan, in order of importance, was to get Kit to take the idol back
to the museum. Then tomorrow she would look for a new job and get over sex with
thief. All pretty obvious stuff. That was all she needed to concentrate on. Not
the man with the soft, tender look in his eyes. Look away, look away .
“What’s wrong?” Kit didn’t expect an answer to that question
as he suspected Stella didn’t give them easily. He could wait.
“Nothing.” Everything, she added to herself.
“Did you get any sleep?”
After driving Kit and herself into a frenzy earlier, Stella
had staggered off to bed to leave him to his emails. She was so tired she had
collapsed onto her bed without changing. When she woke up three hours later she
woke up gasping for air. She had had the worst dream. It was soul shaking and
ghastly and not something she ever imagined she would dream about anyone, let
alone Kit Kincaid. From what little she had seen of the marriages around her,
she could understand why the divorce rate was high. Her friends seemed trapped
and totally incompatible and she never wanted to be in that position. She woke
up sweating and clutching her pillow. In her dream she had married Kit. It had
been this nice, sweet, romantic ceremony with Stella all dressed in white and
Kit looking all proud and happy. Stella shivered as she thought about it. She
was not one of those girly girls who dreamed stuff like this. The obvious explanation
had to be that she had just come from Simone’s wedding, hence the reason she
had been dreaming about marrying Kit. She could also throw in some Freudian
thing to do with penises and that would explain the reason for this dream about
marrying the thief.
“I slept fine.” Stella stated simply. There was no need for
Kit to know about one dumb dream. Time to move on. Back to whatever plan she
was onto now. What was it Plan E or F? Whatever. “What does one wear on this
type of mission to the museum? Black?” Until this moment, she had all but
forgotten the reason Kit was there. But she had been through a lot and it was
understandable how she lost the plot for a moment.
“Yeah with
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