The last weeks had been amazingly sweet and sensual. He couldn’t remember ever being this happy. But he was also exhausted. The damn fly was tickling his face again! He brushed his hand over his forehead once more and encountered something cold and sharp. He flew into a sitting position, flinging the intruder with the weapon beneath him and holding both the assailant’s hands in one of his. He suddenly realized it was Cubby-with a very lethal looking pair of scissors. He gulped. Did she hate him then after all? He almost wanted to weep. He’d grown fond of her. “What the hell are you doing?” he bellowed. Tears instantly flooded her big blue eyes, and he felt bad. How crazy was he? He felt bad for making the woman who was trying to kill him cry? Why? Because, he realized-he loved her! “Vincent, I…” “Do you hate me that much Cubby?” he asked, horrified when he heard his own voice crack a little. “Hate you? How, why…what are you talking about?” she demanded crossly, apparently not intimidated by him at all.
What do You think about A Duet Of Regency Sex Comedies?
