'What you look like is a joke of a journalist, who is finally getting around to hacking out the dreary novel that he's been claiming for years to have burning inside him to anybody dumb enough to listen to that drivel."
"You don't know anything about me, Miss Cute Buns," he said with a dangerous scowl.
"I know that you're too insensitive to write copy for sardine cans, much less a novel about human emotions and life's disillusionments.
Speaking of which," she sneered, gesturing down at the table, "I think the subject matter of your book is self-indulgent and boring."
He took the steps necessary to close the distance between them. Through his clenched teeth he said, "Not if I detail the character's interactions with women."
"In that case, add disgusting to self-indulgent and boring and you've got my critique!"
On that outstanding exit line, she stamped from the room.
It was still raining the following morning, but it wasn't the sound of thunder that awakened Stevie. It was the cramping in her lower abdomen.
The twinges were like menstrual cramps, only more localized and more severe, particularly in her right side.
She got up and took two of her pain pills. Back in bed, she turned onto her side and drew her knees up close to her chest. Eventually the cadence of steady rainfall induced her back to sleep.
She must not have been sleeping very deeply, however. When she awakened again, Judd was speaking her name in gentle inquiry. She felt the mattress dip beneath his weight as he lay down behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Stevie, what's the matter?"
"Nothing." She lay unmoving, her eyes remaining closed.
"I could hear you moaning all the way in my bedroom. You woke me up."
"I apologize."
He swore beneath his breath and muttered something derogatory about the female psyche.
"I don't care about missing out on some sleep," he hissed. "Are you in pain?"
"A little."
"Damn."
"Only a slight cramp. Don't worry about it.
It'll go away."
"Where are your pills? I'll get them for you."
"I already took two."
"When?"
"I don't know. Not long ago."
"Why aren't they working?"
"They haven't had time."
"What can I do?"
"Nothing." ' 'Why are you keeping your eyes closed?"
"Because I'm sleepy." And because she knew, intuitively, that he had come to her bed as he slept in his-naked. "Go on back to bed. I'll be alright."
"Where do you hurt?"
Impatiently she snapped, "Where are my tumors?"
"What would help?"
"My heating pad might."
"Where is it?"
"I didn't bring it."
"Great."
He didn't say anything else, but he didn't go away, either. Stevie could feel him staring down at her. Abruptly, as though he suddenly made up his mind about something that had him in a quandary, he slid his arm around her waist, fumbling through bedding and cotton nightie before his hand found skin.
"Judd! What are-"
"Shh, shh. Lie still. I want to help."
"You can't."
"Maybe not, but I want to try."
"Why?"
"Because I was rough on you last night. I yelled at you and you didn't deserve to be yelled at."
"That doesn't matter. This isn't necessary."
"Look, this Good Samaritan gig is new to me, so give me a break and help me along, okay?
Now, where do you hurt? Here?" He placed his warm hand over her lower body, applying just the right amount of pressure.
"Hmm." A soothing heat spread through her, melting away the pain, ironing out the cramps. It felt wonderful.
"Is that better?" He waited. "Stevie?"
She was already asleep.
When she woke up the third time, the weight of his arm was lying heavily in the hollow of her waist. His hand was still palming the area between her hipbones. The pain was gone.
The fingers of his other hand were ensnared in her hair where it mingled with his on the pillow they shared. If he was going to invade her bed, the least he could have done was bring his own pillow, she thought.
Her peevishness was a ruse she employed to convince herself that she didn't like feeling his solid presence along her back, touching from shoulders to toes, nor the warm, damp gusts of his breath against her nape.
She tried telling herself that his body was heavy and intrusive, when actually she relished the feel of it against hers. So much so that she reflexively snuggled closer to him.
Her eyes opened wide when she was alarmingly reminded that Judd's sleeping attire had been chosen for maximum comfort and left no doubt that she was in bed with an extremely virile man. Hoping that she wouldn't awaken him, she turned her head slightly.
He snuffled, stirred and opened his eyes. Their faces were very close. Stevie felt as though the bizarre occasion called for something. A thank-you.
A tension-breaking laugh. A reprimand.
She neither said nor did anything, only lay there staring into a rugged, well-lived-in, beard-roughened face that was becoming distressingly dear to her.
When Judd finally moved, it was only to spread wide his fingers against her abdomen and to press it gently with the heel of his hand. Then, moving that hand to the curve of her waist, he slowly drew her onto her back.
His eyes went on a silent tour of her, touching everywhere: her hair, which he was lazily sifting through his fingers, her eyes, her mouth, her throat. He smiled with amusement as they roved down the prim bodice of her girlish nightgown to the satin bow that made it seductive. Gradually his gaze made its way back up to hers.
He moved again, this time to bracket her shoulders with his elbows. He used them to prop himself inches above her. He pressed one of his legs between hers, smooth flesh against rough.
His thigh lay warmly and heavily in her cleft.
He took her face between his hands, sliding his fingers up through her hair and curving them around her head. His thumbs made light passes across her lips. They parted. The point of separation seemed to intrigue him, and he investigated it with the tip of his thumb.
Then he lowered his head and replaced his stroking thumbs with a kiss as soft as the summer rain falling upon the leaves of the trees outside.
Reflexively Stevie's arms went around him.
She splayed her hands over his broad back.
Gaining confidence, she rubbed them up and down, eventually going as far as the dimples in the small of his back.
He released a low, primitive groan and pressed his tongue between her lips. His lips slanted across hers to achieve the best fit and ultimate satisfaction. His tongue probed deeply, master fully, but unhurriedly. It was a tranquil, sleepy, rainy morning kiss.
It was delicious.
When it was over and they pulled apart, they gazed at each other with drowsy complacence.
Strands of her hair had become enmeshed in his stubble. She reached up to pull them away, but he caught the tip of her finger between his teeth and nipped it, then bathed the ball of it with his soft, damp tongue.
She investigated his face with her hands, as one blind, ghosting over the rough, masculine features with curious fingertips. She tried in vain to smooth out the dense eyebrows, though she thought they were incredibly attractive just as they were.
He bent his head and kissed her bare shoulder.
She slipped her arms beneath his again and gave him a hard, urgent hug, wanting to feel his weight pressing down on her again.
He granted her wish, readjusting his body against hers for an even more tantalizing match, then slightly rocking them together. His mouth tenderly ate at hers, giving it kiss after kiss-open, hot, wet and deep.
Slowly, taking it one small button at a time, he unfastened her nightgown. When he got to the satin bow, he raised his head and watched as his fingers pulled on one end of the ribbon until it came free. He moved the cotton aside.