“Time for my next favor.” He kissed her shoulder.
Melting with the heat of passion he’d stoked in her, she let her mental images run wild. “The price just went up, soldier.” She shifted to face him and stroked his cheek.
“This favor’s pretty wild. Think you can do it?”
“I doubt it but tell me. Leave nothing out.” Her heart pounded so hard she was afraid she’d choke.
“You’re going to get up. Put on that filmy little French Maid’s getup, and serve me crème Brulee, and you’re going to do it like the dirtiest little hooker on Sunset Boulevard.”
She grinned, barely able to see his face in the faint city lights through the sheer curtain on the window. “I had no idea you’d spent so much time on Sunset Boulevard.”
“I read a lot.”
When she woke in the morning she heard the shower running. She dragged herself out of bed and took off what was left of the French Maid costume and wondered how much Char had paid for it. At least she got her sister’s money’s worth and wondered if she’d be able to crank up the courage to tell her how.
Steam billowed from the bathroom when she opened the door. It felt wonderful on her face and body. She definitely needed a day at the spa to recover. What a good idea. She’d treat Char to the works.
“Hand me a towel, honey. I forgot to bring one over here.”
A huge fluffy white towel in her hand, she opened the glass shower door. He swiped water off his face and smiled. When she didn’t hand him the towel, he raised his eyebrows and held out his hand.
“In a minute. I want to enjoy the view first.”
In answer, he stood balanced on one leg and held out his arms. Water droplets slid down his shoulders, chest, and legs. Beautiful, every inch of him, even his ruined left leg.
Marla handed over the towel. “All right, enough for now. My turn.” She stepped aside.
Dwayne took the towel, rubbed his head and wrapped it around his waist then with a series of hops and scoots, made it to the adjacent marble tub where he sat. “You’ll love that great shower, and best of all, I can watch.”
He watched her for a few minutes then pulled on the thick sock that protected his stump, attached his prosthesis, and stood. “I’ll order breakfast. Don’t take too long, we have to be out of here by eleven.”
She threw him a kiss. “Order French toast in honor of the saucy maid who gave her all.” She flashed a wicked grin then examined the shampoo bottle.
He was on the phone when she came back to the room wrapped in a fluffy terry robe. Fully refreshed, she reveled in the afterglow of the previous night. Everything tingled and in all the right places.
“Okay, squirt, I’ll ask her. Give Grammakat a kiss and hug from me. Love you. Bye.”
“Amber?”
“Yep. I call her every Sunday morning. She’s having a great time with Mom, the dogs, and horses. I’ll bet she has the wranglers eating out of her hands by now.”
“What did she want you to ask me?”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. A man’s voice called, “Room service.”
Dwayne, fully dressed, opened the door. The waiter entered, cleared the remains of their middle-of-the-night snack, ignored the satin slip on the floor, and set up their breakfast. He handed the check to Dwayne, tilted his head, and wheeled last night’s dishes to the door.
Just before he stepped out, he smiled at Marla and winked.
She drew in a breath. “Did you see that?”
“Should I call the manager and have him fired?” He embraced her and kissed her on the forehead. “At least I hid the maid outfit in the shopping bag. No need to torture an innocent man.”
“Pish, you enjoyed every minute of it, strutting around here like an Arab sheik.”
“Yes, I did, Red. Let’s eat.” He lifted the silver cover of one of the plates. “This one’s yours.” He sat and removed the dome from the other plate to reveal a gigantic plate of roast beef hash and eggs with a mountain of country fried potatoes. A smaller dish was piled with toasted English muffins.
Marla leaned forward to sniff the spicy golden French toast. Half a dozen strips of crisp bacon lay alongside it. A pot of warm syrup and a small dish of sliced almonds completed the presentation. “I want to live here.”
Halfway through breakfast she said, “Oh, you never told me how you convinced Uncle Johnny to loan you his Lincoln.”
Dwayne’s shoulders bounced with mirth. He held up a finger, swallowed, then took a sip of coffee. “I told him I knew what he was up to and would spill it to Irene if he didn’t let me take the car.”
“What is he up to?”
“Damned if I know, but there must be something, because he handed over the keys without another word.”
“I hope you take after your mother’s side of the family.”
“And I hope you take after your father’s side of the family.”
She grinned. “I leave Mom’s side to Charlene. They’re two peas in a pod.”
“And a lovely pod, at that.”
On the way back to Ventura County they passed the Getty, gleaming white on the hill above the freeway. “Have you ever been there?”
His eyes followed her gesture. “No. Let’s do it this afternoon.”
“We could just visit the gardens. They’re very unique and beautiful.”
“Let’s do it. I’ll get off and circle back. If they have a restaurant we’ll get lunch.”
“Oh, they do. One is a nice terrace café with beautiful views of the gardens and the city.”
“How many times have you been there?”
“Dozens, and it’s still not enough.”
They strolled through the gardens hand in hand, stopping frequently to examine a certain plant or just enjoy a particularly nice spot. She noticed his limp was more pronounced than usual.
“Is your leg
