“Such a gentleman.”
“Always. Look, there’s a big claw-foot tub in the bathroom. Why don’t you take a long hot bath, keep drinking water, and I’ll go fix breakfast. I need some eggs and bacon and figure you probably do too. Make yourself at home. Mort and Phoebe are stirring and they’ll leave soon. When they’re gone, I’ll bring you breakfast in bed. A plan?”
She smiled and said, “Sounds nice. Thanks.”
He left and closed the door. She had two options. First, she could get dressed, ease downstairs, try to avoid Mort and Phoebe, tell Bruce she needed to leave, and hit the road. But moving quickly was not a good idea. She needed time, time to pull herself together, time to see if her stomach would settle down, time to relax and maybe even sleep it off. And, she wasn’t sure she should be driving. The thought of returning to her little suite at the B&B was not appealing either, and the idea of a long hot bath was irresistible at the moment.
The second option was to follow Bruce’s plan, one that would eventually land him in the bed with her. That, she had decided, had reached the point of being inevitable.
She poured another glass of water and eased out of bed. She stretched, took a deep breath, and already felt better. No threats of nausea. She walked to the bathroom, turned on the faucets, and found the bubble bath. A digital clock on the vanity gave the time as 8:20. In spite of her obvious physical problems, she had slept for almost ten hours.
Of course Bruce needed to check on her, to see how the bath was going. He walked in, still in his robe, and placed another bottle of sparkling water next to the tub. “How ya doing?” he asked.
“Much better,” she said. The bubbles hid most of her nakedness but not all of it. He took a long approving look and smiled. “Need anything?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“I’m busy in the kitchen. Take your time.” And he was gone.
9.
She soaked for an hour, then got out and dried off. She found a matching bathrobe hanging on the door and put it on. In a drawer she found a stack of new toothbrushes. She opened one, brushed her teeth, and felt much better. She picked up her lingerie and found her purse next to her shorts and blouse. She removed her iPad, propped up the pillows, got in the bed, made her nest, and returned to her cloud.
She was reading when she heard noises at the door. Bruce walked in with a breakfast tray, which he placed snugly at her side. “Bacon, scrambled eggs, muffins with jam, strong coffee, and, for good measure, a mimosa.”
“I’m not sure I need more booze at this point,” she said. The food looked and smelled delicious.
“The hair of the dog. It’s good for you.” He disappeared for a second and returned with a tray for himself. When he was situated next to her, their trays side by side, in matching bathrobes, he picked up his flute and said, “Cheers.” They took a sip and began eating.
“So this is the infamous Writer’s Room,” she said.
“You’ve heard of it?”
“The ruin of many a poor girl.”
“All of them quite willing.”
“So it’s true. You get the girls and Noelle gets the boys?”
“True. Who told you about it?”
“Since when do writers keep secrets?”
Bruce laughed and shoved a strip of bacon in his mouth. After two sips of her mimosa, the buzz was back as the remnants of last night’s rum mixed with the fresh champagne. Fortunately, the long bath had settled her stomach and the food was delicious. She nodded at a long curved wall with bookshelves from floor to ceiling and asked, “So what are those? More first editions?”
“A mix, nothing of any real value. Odds and ends.”
“It’s a beautiful room, obviously put together by Noelle.”
“Let’s forget about her for the time being. She’s probably having a late lunch with Jean-Luc.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Not in the least. Come on, Mercer, we’ve had this conversation.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, both ignoring the coffee but not the mimosas. Under the covers, he began gently rubbing her thigh.
She said, “I can’t remember the last time I had sex with a hangover.”
“Oh, I do it all the time. It’s the best cure, actually.”
“I guess you should know.”
He wiggled out of bed and set his tray on the floor. “Finish your drink,” he said, and she did. He lifted her tray and set it aside, then he took off his bathrobe and flung it across the end of the bed. He helped her out of hers, and as soon as they were wonderfully naked they burrowed deep under the covers.
10.
Elaine Shelby was working in her home office late Saturday morning when Graham called from Camino Island. “Touchdown,” he announced. “Looks like our girl spent the night in the big house.”
“Talk to me,” she said.
“She parked across the street around eight last night and her car’s still there. Another couple left this morning, don’t know their names. Mercer and Cable are inside. It’s raining hard here, the perfect morning to shack up. Go, girl.”
“It’s about time. Keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll be down Monday.”
Denny and Rooker were watching too. They had traced the North Carolina license plates on Mercer’s car and done the background. They knew her name, recent employment history, current lodging at the Lighthouse Inn, publishing résumé, and partial ownership of the beach cottage. They knew Noelle Bonnet was out of town and her store was closed. They knew as much as they could possibly know, except what, exactly, to do next.
11.
The storm lingered and became just another excuse to stay in bed. Mercer, who had not had sex in months, couldn’t get enough. Bruce, the seasoned professional, had a drive and stamina that she found amazing at times. After an hour—or was it two?—they finally collapsed and fell asleep. When she awoke, he was gone. She put on her bathrobe, went downstairs, and found him in the kitchen, decked out in the usual seersucker suit and dirty bucks, refreshed and clear-eyed as if ready for another day of rigorous bookselling. They kissed and his hands immediately went inside her bathrobe and grabbed her rear.
“Such a gorgeous body,” he said.
“You’re leaving me?”
They kissed again in a long, groping embrace. He pulled away slightly and said, “I need to check on the store. Retail’s a bitch, you know?”
“When are you coming back?”
“Soon. I’ll bring some lunch and we’ll eat on the porch.”
“I need to go,” she said halfheartedly.
“Go where? Back to the Lighthouse? Come on, Mercer, hang around here and I’ll be back before you know it. It’s raining buckets, the wind’s howling, I think we’re under a tornado watch. Hell, it’s dangerous out there. We’ll crawl into bed and read all afternoon.”
“I’m sure you’re thinking of nothing but reading.”