WHEN IT ALL SEEMS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE, IT USUALLY IS ...
Jessie, dithering behind the bedroom door and wondering whether in fact the bat was such a good idea after all -- she might just be handing the burglar a weapon -- heard Mao's howl of outrage, swiftly followed by an horrendous crash.
Had the burglar killed the cat? Had the cat killed the burglar? Whatever was going on, it was clear that she could no longer hide upstairs.
With the cricket bat raised threateningly before her, she advanced slowly down the stairs and approached the kitchen with caution.
She'd been too tired to worry about the dishes, but even so, the scene that met her gaze was a shock. Smashed eggs, milk spreading to form a small lake, a lake at which a perfectly content Mao was busy lapping, and in the middle of it all, flat on his back, blood oozing from a wound on his forehead, lay a man who seemed to fill all the available space. A man dressed from head to toe in burglar black.
Black chinos, a black shirt, sleeves rolled back to reveal thickly muscled forearms.
He was tall and strong and he would have disarmed her without raising a sweat.
Fortunately, he was unconscious.
Or maybe not. Even as she stood there, congratulating herself on the fact, he groaned and opened his eyes. Jessie grasped the bat even more tightly, swallowed nervously and holding threateningly in front of her, croaked, 'Don't move!'
Genre: Romance
Jessie, dithering behind the bedroom door and wondering whether in fact the bat was such a good idea after all -- she might just be handing the burglar a weapon -- heard Mao's howl of outrage, swiftly followed by an horrendous crash.
Had the burglar killed the cat? Had the cat killed the burglar? Whatever was going on, it was clear that she could no longer hide upstairs.
With the cricket bat raised threateningly before her, she advanced slowly down the stairs and approached the kitchen with caution.
She'd been too tired to worry about the dishes, but even so, the scene that met her gaze was a shock. Smashed eggs, milk spreading to form a small lake, a lake at which a perfectly content Mao was busy lapping, and in the middle of it all, flat on his back, blood oozing from a wound on his forehead, lay a man who seemed to fill all the available space. A man dressed from head to toe in burglar black.
Black chinos, a black shirt, sleeves rolled back to reveal thickly muscled forearms.
He was tall and strong and he would have disarmed her without raising a sweat.
Fortunately, he was unconscious.
Or maybe not. Even as she stood there, congratulating herself on the fact, he groaned and opened his eyes. Jessie grasped the bat even more tightly, swallowed nervously and holding threateningly in front of her, croaked, 'Don't move!'
Genre: Romance
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