Royally Claimed - By Marie Donovan Page 0,57
Aguas,” and Frank grinned ruefully. “My secret bullfighting identity is blown. If only I had a cape.”
She laughed at his joke, and he pulled her into his side to greet the people around them. As always, he was friendly and cheerful, introducing her as Senhorina Julia, who had lived on the air base as a child. That made the local Terceirans even more appreciative and it was several minutes before Frank and Julia could move toward a quieter part of town.
“That was crazy. You are crazy.” Julia shook her head.
“I told you I’d done this before.” He raised their linked fingers and kissed her knuckles. “I know bulls.”
“You’re full of bull,” she accused him. “But you saved that boy from being trampled, so I forgive you for putting me through that.”
“Thank you, meu bem. I’ll treat you to lunch to make up for scaring you.”
“And dessert.” She wasn’t a pushover.
“Certainly. I booked us a hotel room here so we wouldn’t have to hurry back to São Miguel for the night.”
She smiled. “Hopefully our room is far from the main water pipe.”
He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “I made sure of it.”
TWO DAYS LATER, JULIA stretched in bed, the early morning light reflecting off the mercifully taupe walls. Frank was gone, but he never went far. They’d worked hard getting the master bedroom back into a civilized appearance.
The smell of coffee wafted upstairs and she smiled to hear his baritone humming get louder. He poked his head around the bedroom door and grinned when he saw that she was awake. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” He carried in a dark wooden tray with two steaming cups and pastries on a plate. He wore his customary khaki shorts and unbuttoned white linen shirt that showed off his rich, dark skin.
She checked the clock, which had been flipped over at some point last night. “Nine o’clock? Why did you let me sleep so late? We have work to do.” She sat up in bed and wrapped the sheet around her.
He made an exasperated noise and carefully set the tray on the bed next to her. Rich pastries with powdered sugar and jellies made her mouth water. “Work, work, work. We have done the most important job, which was to cover up Benedito’s awful experiment in color selection. The new mattresses and bedding are on their way and fortunately the floors are stone and not covered with wall-to-wall pink carpet. Everything is good.” He handed her a thick red-and-blue pottery cup. “Drink.”
Julia accepted gladly. He had put exactly the right amount of cream and sugar in hers, which made her heart swell a bit. His coffee was deepest black, but she knew it always sweetened up a bit thanks to his habit of dipping a corner of his pastry. “If you don’t want to work today, what do you want to do?”
His significant expression made her pink up a bit. “Besides that, Frank!”
“What?” He gave her an innocent look. “I thought we could go to the beach on this beautiful sunny day.”
“The beach,” she mused. “I haven’t gotten much sun lately.”
“You see?” He pointed a pastry at her. “Good for your Vitamin D and your mood, correct?”
“Are you saying I’m moody?”
He held a pastry up to her mouth and she took a bite. “You are always in the perfect mood for me.”
She harrumphed but bit off a piece of…yum…pineapple-filled Danish. “Okay,” she said, once her mouth was empty. “You’ve talked me into it.”
“Great. We’ll pack a lunch and eat at that little cove south of here. Swim, sun, whatever we want.” He settled next to her on the bed and chatted to her about weather patterns on the island, migrating birds and whatever he found interesting and thought she might, too.
It was soothing and domestic to watch him drink down his coffee and gesture with his pastry as he strewed crumbs across their bed. Almost as if they were an old married couple that had settled into an easy morning routine. She had never had that with a man before.
“More coffee?” He pointed at her empty cup and she shook her head.
“I should get up and get ready.”
“What’s to get ready? Go to your bathroom and put your suit on.”
“Frank…” Really, he knew better after having four younger sisters, five if he counted Stefania.
“Fine.” He heaved a sigh and gathered the plates and cups. “I’ll be downstairs ruining my hands in the dishwater if you need me.” The kitchen had a perfectly functional electric