Beguiled Again: A Romantic Comedy Read Online Free Page B

him in consternation. “What?”
    “You throwing yourself at my feet. Twice in the same day, no less,” he teased. “Just like old times.”
    “I did not!” she protested, struggling to sit up. “I mean, back then I did, but today I certainly didn’t!” She braced her hands against the floor. “I—-I don’t even want you here.”
    “You know, Cecil,” he said sternly, his face inches from hers, “I’m not used to having the welcome mat jerked out from under my feet.”
    “I’ll bet,” Cecilia muttered, visualizing a string of svelte women eager to feed this man’s arrogance. Why couldn’t he have gone bald and potbellied?
    “Okay, let me help you up.”
    Before she could protest, he closed his hands around her upper arms and lifted. She stood shakily and waited for the room to careen wildly again. It didn’t, but she sank gratefully into a barrel-backed bar stool.
    “You’re really sick, Cecilia.”
    She managed a smile. “I think the flu bug crawled into my inner ear.”
    “You need something in your stomach.”
    “Really, Jeff. Please go home, or back to work, or wherever it is you’re supposed to be.”
    He began opening drawers in the kitchen, raking through their jumbled contents. “Where do you keep your can opener? I’ll heat up the soup before I go.”
    “Yuck.” She wrinkled her nose and massaged a temple wearily with the heel of her hand. “Did anyone ever bother to stick the pizza in the freezer?”
    Jeff shot her a startled look. “Pizza?”
    “Whenever I get sick I crave pizza.”
    “My granny would be appalled.” He crossed to the refrigerator and opened the freezer compartment. “You’re in luck. They’re here. Hey, what do you know? I think I found your neighbor’s scissors.” He dropped two pizzas and a pair of orange-handled scissors on the counter. “Those scissors are freezing!” He rubbed his fingers vigorously on the seat of his trousers.
    “Fancy that,” Cecilia remarked dryly.
    The phone rang and Jeff reached for it, but Cecilia lunged to her feet, motioning him away. “Let me answer it. It might be somebody,” she gasped.
    “Somebody?” He arched a brow and smiled, sliding the first pizza from its torn box.
    “Hello— hi, Carol, how are the kids?... Ralph, too? I didn’t even notice he was gone. Much better, thanks. In fact, if you— What do you mean? Why shouldn’t they look out the front window?... Red convertible? What red...oh, yeah.” She shot a venomous glance at Jeff and dropped her voice. “It’s a long story, Carol. Don’t worry about it. It’s leaving soon. By the way, we, er, I found your scissors in the freezer. How would I know? They just were— Okay, you’re an angel... I owe you one.”
    She replaced the receiver. Jeff was leaning against the counter, his arms folded. He was obviously taking everything in with far too great an interest. Then the slightest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and her stomach tugged in direct response. No, he wasn’t smiling. The arrogant so-and-so was smirking at her. Instantly she felt fourteen years old again, and she didn’t like it one bit.
    “Since you’re so interested, why didn’t you get on the extension?” she muttered.
    “I think I can fill in the blanks pretty well.” Jeff doublechecked the setting on the oven, then glanced at the clock beside it. “Eleven more minutes. Think you can wait that long?” He smiled, a soft teasing smile that stopped her dead in her tracks.
    Those eyes, thick lashed and crinkling at the corners, still the color of syrupy sweet root beer,... She’d forgotten how devastating his slow smile could be. She dragged herself back to reality. “All right, Florence Nightingale. I need a drink of water.” Jeff reached across the bar and pressed his hand to her temple.
    She caught her breath, but tried not to show it.
    “You must be feeling better. Your fever’s down.”
    “Yeah, I know,” she choked out, shrinking from his touch. “But I need