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When she did, she stalked back out to the porch and bent over the heavy cardboard carton. Dangerously wielding the screwdriver, she pried the industrial staples out of the cardboard, then tore into the box.
The first bottle of whiskey to be hurled at the wall of the house made a racket as loud as a blast of dynamite in the quiet morning peacefulness. Glass flew everywhere. Whiskey splattered everywhere. The aroma was pungent.
Sunny, far from satisfied, didn’t stop with that one. In quick succession she broke three more bottles. She was furious over being deceived again, and even angrier at her own naïveté. After shattering four bottles, she paused for breath, her chest billowing in and out from exertion and rage.
“If this is how you intend to wake me up every morning, we’re off to a rocky beginning.”
She spun around at the sound of his voice. Ty was leaning on the doorjamb, ankles crossed, one shoulder propped against the bare wood. He was wearing only his briefs and they rode low on his narrow hips. His hair was adorably tousled. The lower part of his face was smudged with whiskers. She could barely see his eyes because he was squinting against the bright sunlight and his brows were pulled down into a deep frown.
“You’ve got your nerve,” she ground out, “to even show your face to me.”
“How come?”
She spread her arms wide to encompass the case of whiskey and the fragrant mess she’d made. “This is all last night meant to you, isn’t it?”
His scowl deepened. He shook his head with what appeared to be disgust, then said, “I’m gonna make some coffee.”
A second later Sunny was staring at the gaping front door.
Her temper exploded. How dare he turn and walk away when she hadn’t even begun to tell him how contemptible she thought he was! She strode into the kitchen. Ty was measuring coffee into the metal basket of the percolator. While she stood there fuming, he filled it with water, then struck a match and held it to the gas burner. Only when he was satisfied that the flame was right did he turn and look at her inquiringly.
“Get out of my house.”
“Sunny,” he said on a long-suffering sigh as he leaned against the draining board and folded his arms over his naked chest, “let me give you a lesson in morning-after etiquette. The least you can do to repay a man who gave you seven orgasms—or was it eight? It’s hard to tell with a woman as lusty as you—anyway, the least you can offer me in return this morning is a cup of coffee.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“You didn’t seem to think so last night,” he said blandly. “And just for the record book, last night had everything to do with you and me and nothing to do with my bet with George.”
“Isn’t that why you slept with me?”
“No.”
“Then how do you explain that case of Wild Turkey on my front porch?” She made an arrow out of her arm and accusingly pointed toward the front of the house.
“I can’t. I don’t know how George found out I was here. Maybe he saw me leave the church driving like a madman, followed me out here, and drew his own conclusions.”
“Or maybe once you’d scored, you sneaked out of bed and came in here to call him.”
Ty balefully stared at her for several seconds, then turned his back to take a coffee mug out of the cabinet. Finally, the coffee was ready. Only after he had poured his coffee and taken several scalding sips did he look at her again. “I didn’t.”
“I don’t know that.”
“Well, you should. You had your hands on me practically all night.” His eyelids lowered sexily. “And what you usually had a hold of I could hardly take out of your clutches without both of us noticing.”
Her cheeks filled with color and heat. She lowered her gaze, floundering for something to say. She could feel herself rapidly losing ground and didn’t know how to get it back.
“Well, it’s over and done with anyway. You won your bet. My week here is up. As soon as my guest,” she stressed scathingly, “finishes his coffee, I’m leaving for home.”
“For New Orleans?”
“Where else?”
“And go back to what?”
“What do you mean by that?” She was immediately on the defensive.
“Back to all those lovers that never existed?”
