Bea Read Online Free Page B

him know she was glad to see him. He might take it as interest in checking his chassis.
    “Do you always take the easy way?” she asked.
    “Always.”
    He was glad to see her stinger again. She looked so feminine and vulnerable in her white terry robe and her tear-streaked face that she was beginning to make cracks in the wall he’d built around himself. He turned to the ice chest and lifted out a pack of crackers.
    Holding them aloft, he turned back to her.
    “You have the cheese and I have the crackers. Why don’t we get together?”
    “I’d consort with a rattlesnake for a bite of food.”
    “Python, sweetheart.” He propped his boot on the bed. “Python.”
    He quickly surveyed her room. It was exactly like his, except for the velvet pictures. Hers were Italian instead of Spanish.
    He sat on her bed, propped himself up against the headboard and patted a space beside him.
    “Join me and we’ll break bread together.”
    Bea hesitated only a moment. It wouldn’t be wise to make a fuss. After all, he had the food.
    “Let me get a dry towel to catch the cracker crumbs.”
    She disappeared into the bathroom and came back with two plastic cups and a white towel, standard motel issue, dingy from too many careless washings. She spread the towel in the middle of the bed, then sat carefully on her side.
    “You look uncomfortable,” he said. “Why don’t you lean back?”
    “This is fine.”
    “You can’t see the TV turned that way.”
    “I can if I turn my head a little.” She demonstrated, glancing over her shoulder at the swashbuckling romance still in progress.
    “I don’t have plans to seduce you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
    “Seduction takes two, and I’m not the submissive type.” She flounced around and leaned her back against the headboard. She didn’t want to miss the end of the movie.
    “What are we watching?” Russ poured the wine.
    “An old romantic movie. They’re a weakness of mine.”
    “Why do you call them a weakness?”
    “Most of them are silly. A waste of time.” She glanced toward the TV, then back at Russ. “In this one, Tony Curtis is a prince. Nobody can play them the way he can.”
    “I like that costume the woman is wearing.”
    “You would.” It was a harem suit, showing lots of flesh.
    She sipped her wine and concentrated on the movie. It was getting to another good part: the prince was rounding up his consorts to rescue the slave girl from the clutches of his evil father. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Bea leaned forward.
    “Go for it,” she whispered.
    Russ watched her. He hadn’t planned to, but he couldn’t help himself. She was flushed with excitement, and she looked vulnerable, cuddly even. No, he corrected himself. Not cuddly. Bea Adams was far too bossy and waspish to be cuddly.
    He turned his attention to the screen. The prince stormed the camp, sword flashing. There was a brief, bloody battle, and then the lovers were reunited. He heard a sniffle.
    Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Bea wiping a tear from her cheek.
    “Do you always cry at romantic movies?”
    “I wasn’t crying.” Bea sniffed again and squared her shoulders. “It’s the wine, I guess. Allergies. Or maybe fatigue.” She made a big to-do of yawning.
    Russ didn’t know why he wanted to hear the truth from her, but he did.
    “It looked like crying to me.”
    “All right. You caught me.” She sat up straighter, as if she wanted to dispel any notion that she might be weak. “Sometimes I cry at romantic movies. And don’t ask me why. I don’t believe in happily ever after.”
    She looked so spunky and brave, as if she would march out of her dingy hotel room and into battle at any minute, armed with nothing more than tearstains on her cheeks.
    “Don’t worry. No one will ever accuse you of such a heinous crime.”
    His words stung. She chewed her cheese in silence while she tried to think of a suitable retort.
    “I didn’t say it was a