Free 92 Pacific Boulevard by Debbie Macomber Page A

interrupted their prologue to lovemaking. Or was it inadvertent? At any rate when she went back to bed, Bruce was either asleep or so irritated that the opportunity had been ruined.
    “Your next appointment just called and canceled,” Joan, who handled the reception desk, told her.
    “Wasn’t that the color job?”
    Joan checked the schedule. “Yup.”
    That was two free hours. Two whole unexpected hours. Rachel’s heart raced as she glanced at her watch. “I don’t have any other appointments this afternoon, right?”
    Joan checked again. “Not that I can see.”
    An idea was taking shape. “Terrific. Thanks.” She grabbed her purse, pulled out her cell phone and punched speed dial to connect with Bruce.
    He answered on the second ring. “Bruce speaking.”
    “What are you doing?” she asked excitedly.
    “Working, what do you think?” Bruce ran a small independent computer-support business, with a couple of employees.
    “Can you meet me at the house?”
    “I suppose…Any special reason you want me home?”
    Rachel giggled, and no doubt sounded like a schoolgirl. “Oh, yes, there’s a very special reason. My last appointment canceled and Jolene’s got basketball tryouts after school.”
    Bruce caught on right away. “You mean we would be alone? “
    “That’s what I figured.” She giggled again.
    “Give me ten minutes.”
    “You got it.” Rachel closed the phone and held it against her heart, grinning wildly. She saw Joan watching her, eyebrows raised.
    “I take it you don’t want me to schedule anything for the rest of the day?”
    “Please.” 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?”
    “In 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.
    “Looking 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.”
    “Oh, 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.
    “We have all afternoon, you realize,” she said. “Shall I pour us a glass of champagne?”
    The shower door opened. “Champagne?”
    “Another gift from Teri and Bobby.”
    “Sure…” His gaze was riveted on her. “You are so beautiful.”
    “That’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