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“Maybe,” she allowed, although she wasn’t nearly as confident as he was. She was still holding her breath, waiting for her stomach to rebel against her.
“I’ve got water boiling for herbal tea just in case,” he told Marlowe. “But since the soup’s all warmed up,” he said, taking the ladle and putting just a small serving into a bowl, “why don’t you try sipping some of that first?”
“You don’t have to do this,” she insisted.
Being on the receiving end of all this fussing from someone who wasn’t being paid to dance attendance on her made her feel uncomfortable. Having him wait on her like this put her in his debt, and she didn’t like the way that felt.
“I know,” Bowie answered. “Maybe I’m just trying to explore my domestic side,” he told her, a grin twitching his lips.
“Heating up chicken soup and boiling water for tea isn’t exactly going to turn you into the next Julia Child,” she informed him.
“Another dream shattered,” he quipped. And then he indicated the bowl he’d placed in front of her. “Just eat the soup, Marlowe.”
She frowned. She didn’t want to be beholden to him in any manner, and yet here he was, serving her and keeping her company while she ate.
“I can call a cab, you know,” she told him, “or have one of my brothers come and pick me up.” She looked at him almost accusingly. “You don’t have to hover over me like this.”
He patiently refuted her arguments. “Number one, I’m not hovering.” He had taken a seat opposite her. “Number two, I already told you, I’m taking Bigelow’s place until I get you back to him. And number three, if I didn’t have such a thick hide, thanks to my father, I would have said that you trying to get rid of me like this is hurting my feelings. Now eat your breakfast.”
He was talking down to her, she thought, leveling an annoyed look at Bowie. But she grudgingly did as he told her to.
Picking up her spoon, she raised it, then dipped it into her soup. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a dictator?”
“Yes,” he answered simply. “It’s one of my better leadership qualities.” He waved at the bowl. “Now stop stalling and eat. I’ve got another meeting to get to this morning.”
“Then go,” she all but ordered him. “No one’s keeping you.”
Bowie frowned at her. Being with this woman required a great deal of patience, he couldn’t help thinking. “Were you always such a slow learner?” he asked. “I just said I wasn’t leaving your side until I turn you over to Bigelow. Now stop arguing with me and eat!”
“You know, maybe you should take lessons from Wallace,” she informed Bowie.
“I’ll be sure to let him know that. It’ll make him happy,” he said. “Now are you going to eat your soup, or am I going to have to feed you?”
She raised her chin, almost spoiling for a fight. “Go ahead,” she challenged.
He’d never been one to back away from a challenge. “All right, I will.” Picking up the spoon, he dipped it into the bowl and then proceeded to say, “Open up, Marlowe. Here comes the airplane heading straight for the hangar.”
He said it so seriously, she couldn’t help but laugh. And once she started, it was hard for her to stop. When she finally did, Bowie picked up the spoon again, filled it and brought it up to her lips once more as if nothing had happened.
What he hadn’t counted on was the act of feeding her like this, of keeping his eyes on her as he slipped the spoon in between her lips, aroused him.
As it did her.
Bowie managed to get exactly three spoonfuls into her mouth like that and then the spoon, as well as the pretense of feeding her, were abandoned. He rose to his feet, bringing her up with him. And then he took her into his arms and kissed her.
She felt his smile against her lips. “You know,” Bowie told her, “at this rate, you’re going to wind up starving to death.”
“Well, if that happens, I’ll die with a smile on my face,” she told him, her eyes never leaving his.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Me, too.”
* * *
“Are you going to be late now?” Marlowe asked Bowie nearly an hour later.
Bowie was finally taking her to Colton Oil headquarters after first calling Wallace to alert the bodyguard that he needed to be there to take over. Bowie was not about to just leave her at the building and take off. He took his responsibility very seriously.
“I’m the one conducting the meeting. They can’t very well start without me, although I really wasn’t planning on being late,” he told her.
