Recipe for Eagle Cove

Chapter 1-4

Harry groaned.

It had been a full half an hour that he had held Becky Billings—close. At first it had been friendly, cozy, and arousing as hell. Becky was a sweet package to cuddle with. When he held her, he knew that he was, without question, holding a woman. And she had abandoned herself to it, letting whatever parts of them come together to do just that. When she stepped back, he could feel the cold replace the warm outline of her upon his chest.

“I’m used to a different kind of woman.”

“What? Standoffish ones? No, you don’t have that problem, do you? Tall ones? Beautiful ones?” She bit off the last strangely.

“I’m used to ones that I don’t accidentally speak my thoughts aloud to.” That was a given.

“Objection: irrelevant. The court directs the counselor to please answer the original question.”

Harry could only stare down at her in astonishment.

“Well?” Becky demanded, her tone completely proper for a disdainful judge.

He looked out to sea for along moment, listened to the breaking waves through three or four landings upon the beach, but found no better answer out there.

“Spit it out, Counselor Slater. Keep this up and I’ll find you in contempt.”

“Okay…” No woman had ever even thought to speak to him in his own language and Becky Billings, Eagle Cove’s pint-sized brewmaster was doing exactly that and doing it well.

Then he caught the hint of her smile despite the darkness. Having fun with him, was she? Well, he wasn’t a courtroom lawyer for no reason.

“Contempt, huh?” Harry crossed his arms. “What’s the fine if I fail to comply? As a counselor I am honor bound to protect the reputation of—”

“—of all the hot women you’ve bedded. Well,” she crossed her own arms to mimic his position, which only emphasized the magnificence of her chest. “I will offer the counselor a choice of two options to offset the charge of contempt.”

“Proceed.” This had to be the strangest conversation he’d ever had with a woman that he’d—

Except he hadn’t.

All they’d done was dance. No date, no drinks, no…well, none of that either.

“Your first option, Counselor, is a sharp poke in the ribs for being an over-confident, self-assured, foreign interloper.”

He remembered how hard she’d hit his shoulder. “Not my first choice.” Besides, if she did that, he just might tumble off the cliff and it was a long and very steep way down to the beach from the Lamont B&B. The access stairs were twenty or more paces to the north on the line between the Lamont and the Slater properties. Probably too far to make a break for it.

“Second option, pay the fine.”

“The fine? Perhaps I should opt for the sharp poke in the ribs after all.”

“Your call: answer the question about what type of women you’re used to, a sharp poke, or pay the fine. The court has ruled.”

He was having a very hard time not smiling. The muscles tugging at the corners of his mouth felt unfamiliar. There hadn’t been a great deal to smile about lately in his life. It was almost as if he’d forgotten how, but Becky was rapidly reminding him.

She offered no clue as to what “the fine” might constitute.

But he most certainly wasn’t going to answer her question about available women. His looks and his job did indeed make picking up women a simple task; he was never alone on a night he didn’t want to be. Though lately he’d spent far more nights alone than with someone. He hadn’t really noticed it until this moment. He wasn’t bored with the s*x, but there had been nothing special about it lately either.

“Well,” he had to tease her a little, “I’ll admit that you aren’t as tall as most women who I’ve…”

He managed to dodge that poke in the ribs as much by luck and darkness as by light-footedness. Her laugh was awfully merry for a judge on the bench. Didn’t he just know it. His father, Judge Slater, had never in his life spoken an unnecessary word to his wife or either of his sons.

“What the hell, why not. Okay, Judge Becky Billings, I’ll take the fine. Nothing risked, nothing gained.”

“My thoughts exactly.”