Silverberg — Shel — sat at the kitchen table, a cup of fresh, hot coffee held between his hands. He stared thoughtfully at the table. Except for when he watched Ellie. She moved with careful precision around the kitchen, trying not to stare at her guest. He wore her overlarge fluffy blue bathrobe, tied tightly. It was decent enough, even if it did give her rather lovely glimpses of his bare lower legs, intriguing feet, and arms — and the slightest hint of his slightly hairy chest. Oh, it would be difficult not to stare, if she didn't have something to occupy herself with. And she did; he'd wanted to go home, but she'd absolutely insisted he couldn't leave while so wet and cold. He'd begun to shiver even in the warm apartment. "If you get sick, I'll never forgive myself," she told him seriously. "I can't send you all that way wet as a dog." They looked at each other, and then laughed shakily at what she'd said. "I mean, soaked," she corrected, and hurried on with her plan to wash his clothes for him.
What do You think about Ellie's Advice (sweet Romance)?
