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“Much better,” she said. “You’d better remember what to say. What if someone said, ‘Stop it! Stop it!’?”
He flipped the channel back to the bagpipe music.
She started giggling again. “Oh baby, you’re the best.”
She was rewarded with the soft jazz again, and she lay back on the bed. “What? No mirror on the ceiling? What’s a love nest with no mirror on the ceiling?”
He lay down next to her and locked his fingers behind his neck. “The mirror is actually hidden under that padded panel.” He pointed at the ceiling. “I’ve forgotten the magic words, though.”
“Hmmm, let’s see… Gosh, you’re really kind of fat.”
He grinned. “Nope, that’s not it. You don’t believe in shaving? Not anywhere?”
She chortled noisily. “Ooo! Have you seen a doctor for that?”
He laughed and quickly countered. “So you actually paid good money for those?”
This time she laughed so hard she snorted, and he cheered. “I scored—I made you snort.”
They both laughed until there were tears in their eyes.
“That’s Norah Jones,” said Anne as the music changed. “I love her voice. So smooth. I used to listen to her all the time. Who’s your favorite singer?” She relaxed, absorbing the music, letting her tension melt.
“I like listening to the Beatles, James Taylor, and old classics like Frank Sinatra. Really, I like jazz and rock and classical too. Just depends on the mood.”
They studied the ceiling in silence. “You know, I hope everything comes out good with this meeting. I’m so afraid they’ll hate it, and it’ll be all my fault for not making a good PowerPoint.”
“I’m not worried at all. If they don’t go for it, I’ll just buy them out and do what I want anyway. It’s simply more profitable for me this way. Anyway, your presentations are great. And I’m really impressed with your grasp of the concepts. I think you’ve been hiding something from me. Maybe you secretly have an MBA you didn’t mention. I bet you’re some kind of corporate spy.”
“That’s it. You found me out—I’m a pie. I mean I’m a spy.” She giggled. “And you too—you’re Double-O Steven!”
“Have you been drinking?”
“Hmmm? What’d you say?”
“Are you drunk?”
“No, I’m not…” She turned on her side. “It’s kind of cold…”
Anne felt someone shaking her arm. “Anne… Anne, you need to wake up now.”
She stretched and pried her eyes open. She felt warm and cozy under her blanket. “Mmmm, I think I’ll just sleep here tonight. It’s a really big bed.” She chuckled, reluctant to move in her relaxed state.
“Anne, you did sleep here. You’ve been asleep here for seven hours.”
“What!” She jerked up, frantically looking around. She’d slept in a bed with Steven Gherring. And he didn’t have a shirt on. What else had she done? She tried desperately to remember.
“I thought you might want to go pretend to be asleep out there before I wake Jared up. Not that it matters to me—being the world’s richest playboy and all—but I know you worry about these things.”
Blood pulsed in her ears. “We didn’t… we didn’t… did we?”
“Of course we didn’t. You’re still dressed, aren’t you? So am I.” Her eyes fell on his bare chest. “I’m mostly dressed. I still have my pants on.”
“Why didn’t you make me move?”
“Really? Are you kidding? When you go to sleep, nothing will move you.” He shook his head. “At least when you take a sleeping pill of any sort. Even half a pill. Anyway, do you want to go protect your reputation?”
“I do.” She hurried toward the main cabin where Jared was still snoring softly in the same position. Anne lay down on her reclined chair.
