Free Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 by Debbie Macomber Page B

minutes.”
    â€œYou got it.” Rachel closed the phone and held it against her heart, grinning wildly. She saw Joan watching her, eyebrows raised.
    â€œI take it you don’t want me to schedule anything for the rest of the day?”
    â€œPlease.” Rachel hurried into the back room where she threw on her coat. She was a woman with a mission.
    She got home first and tore into the bedroom, where she closed the drapes, then pulled off her clothes and hopped into the shower. Her best friend, Teri Polgar, had bought her a sheer negligee as a wedding gift, which Rachel had yet to wear. She was finally going to initiate it.
    The front door opened and Bruce dashed inside. “Rachel?”
    â€œIn here,” she called back, hoping she sounded sultry and sexy. She climbed onto the bed and lay on her side, facing him, the provocative black negligee revealing far more than it concealed. Her chin was propped on one hand.
    Bruce came into the room and stopped dead in his tracks.
    â€œLooking for someone?” Rachel purred.
    He swallowed visibly. It was a moment before he was able to move or speak. “I need a shower,” he croaked.
    Rachel rolled onto her back. “Hurry.”
    â€œOh, I’ll try.” He started throwing off his clothes as he trotted toward the bathroom. His shirt fell onto the carpet next to the bed. It was a testament to the quality of the garment that the buttons hadn’t been ripped off in his haste. His shoes were next; one was kicked under the bed and the other bounced against the wall and into the bathroom.
    â€œWe have all afternoon, you realize,” she said. “Shall I pour us a glass of champagne?”
    The shower door opened. “Champagne?”
    â€œAnother gift from Teri and Bobby.”
    â€œSure…” His gaze was riveted on her. “You are so beautiful.”
    â€œThat’s how you make me feel,” she whispered.
    While Bruce showered, Rachel went into the kitchen. Although it was an odd contrast with the negligee, she wore her old terry-cloth robe, not wanting to risk being seen through the windows. She opened the refrigerator and sorted through the milk and yogurt and eggs to the farthest reaches of the bottom shelf, where she’d stored the champagne. Moët et Chandon, something she’d never expected to taste.
    By the time she heard Bruce, the flutes were out and ready. She’d lit several scented candles, too. The mood was set except for the music. She found an appropriate CD and put it on.
    A minute or two later, Bruce met her in the kitchen. He was barefoot and naked with a towel around his waist. His dark hair fell in wet tendrils, dripping moisture onto his neck and shoulders. As far as Rachel was concerned, he’d never looked sexier.
    Rachel turned to greet him with a shy smile. She held the champagne bottle in her hand and removed the wire top. “Someone once told me that the correct way to open champagne is to twist the bottle and not the cork. When properly opened, it should sound like a contented woman.”
    Bruce pretended to leer. “I’m more than eager to hear the sound of a contented woman.”
    â€œThe champagne or me?” she asked.
    He grinned. “Both.”
    Rachel attempted to follow the opening directions for champagne, and the cork popped much more loudly than she’d expected.
    â€œYou can be as noisy as you want, too,” her husband joked, taking the bottle out of her hands. He filled both flutes and gave her one. Clutching his own, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. Their lips clung as the kiss deepened. Although only their mouths touched, an overwhelming physical response rippled through her.
    Bruce groaned and put down his champagne. “Maybe we could drink this later?” he asked, hardly sounding like himself.
    â€œWhat do you have in mind?” she asked as he took the flute from her and set it on the kitchen