The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,18
was lovely.
They slept and he awakened her with kisses, and they made love again. Slowly. It was even lovelier.
Cass stirred when she felt kisses moving up and down her spine.
“It’s morning,” Griff whispered. “Want some breakfast?”
“Coffee.”
“Anything else?” he asked.
“You choose. I’m sleepy.”
He kissed her shoulder and chuckled. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when food comes.”
She dozed for a few minutes, then blinked herself awake, dragged herself out of the big bed and into the bathroom, which was still steamy from Griff’s shower. Showering again, Cass dried off, then realized she didn’t have any clean clothes. Wrapping herself in a towel, she searched the closet and found a blue dress shirt. From in the dresser she helped herself to a pair of knit boxer briefs.
Just as she did up the last button, Griff tapped lightly on the door.
“Breakfast.”
She opened it. “I raided your clothes.”
“Help yourself. My shirt never looked so good.”
He grinned, and she wanted to grab on to him like a monkey and never let go. What was the matter with her? She’d never acted this way before or felt like this about any man. This was crazy. And scary. She ought to run for the hills, but she wasn’t going anywhere until she had a major jolt of caffeine.
Griff waved a cup under her nose, and she followed the heavenly scent of coffee like a bloodhound as he enticed her to the lavishly set table.
“Gimme, gimme!” She grabbed for the cup, but he held it up over her head. “I’ve been known to kill for less,” she growled.
“Yours is poured and waiting by your plate.”
Downing half a cup immediately, she sighed. “Heavenly. Thank you, sir.”
“You’re very welcome, madam.” He began lifting plate covers. “French toast. Eggs, bacon, sausages. Cereal. Fruit. Anything here tickle your fancy?”
Looking him up and down, she cocked an eyebrow.
He grinned. “The food, I mean.”
“All of it. I’m starved.”
When she had polished off a good portion of the meal and half the coffee, he said, “Shall I order more?”
“Nope.” She patted her tummy. “I’m full for now.”
She heard the familiar ring tone of her cell phone and looked around searching for her purse. Griff finally retrieved it from underneath a couch cushion and handed it to her.
“It’s Sunny,” she told him. “Hi, sis. What’s up?”
“Where are you?” Sunny asked.
“I’m having breakfast with a friend.”
“Well, get over to Chili Witches right away. We’ve got a problem.”
Chapter Eight
“Where are my clothes?” Cass asked. “I’ve got to go home pronto.”
“I sent them to the laundry,” Griff said. “They should be back in a couple of hours. Is there a problem with Sunny?”
“Yes, and it must be serious. She’s usually pretty unflappable. I can’t go traipsing through the lobby in your shirt and underwear, and I have to leave. Where’s my bathing suit?”
“The laundry.”
“You sent a bathing suit to the laundry?” She rolled her eyes. “Have you ever heard of tossing such things over a shower rod? What am I going to wear home?” She eyed the draperies, but decided against the Scarlett O’Hara solution. “Oh, hell’s bells!” She located her sneakers in the bedroom and was tying them on when Griff came in the room.
“I’m sorry, Cass. I thought we were going to spend the day here. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll run downstairs to the gift shops and find something suitable.”
“Forget it. At those prices, I’d rather endure a little embarrassment. If Leslie can run around town in a sequined bikini, I can wear your shirt and underwear.”
“Who’s Leslie?”
“He’s a local character.” She rolled up her sleeves and grabbed her purse. “Have you got a hat?”
He handed her a golf cap, and she crammed it on her head, put on her sunglasses and pecked him on the cheek as she flew toward the door.
“Call me later,” he yelled after her as she went out.
Nobody looked at her strangely as she walked through the lobby—or if they did she didn’t notice. Folks probably thought she was one of the Hollywood types who frequently came to town for some event or the other.
Cass retrieved her car and sped toward home. The café was surrounded by police cars, utility trucks and even a fire truck. She screeched to a stop down the block and bolted for the back lot, where she saw Sunny talking to a uniformed cop.
“What’s going on?” Cass asked.
“Everything is flooded,” her sister said, “and the place is a mess.”
“Oh my gawd! What happened?”
“We don’t know yet,” Sunny told her. “Did you notice anything