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“Damn, you’re good.” His arm wraps around me and pulls me close. “Even now, when you’re locked in a box, you’re good.” He kisses the top of my head and holds me tight. “We started getting reports about six weeks ago, about the old housekeeper.”
I freeze. “Jago?”
“She was out in Florida somewhere. We had someone keeping tabs on her. But we lost her.”
“I saw her.”
He hugs me tight. “We should just get you to a resort or an old fashioned sanitarium to convalesce.”
“There isn’t time though. Right?”
“When the alternative is shutting our eyes, crossing our fingers and hoping for a miracle?”
I murmur into his chest. “That’s not what Alessio is doing.”
“Not quite.”
I tell him, “Alessio is doing his best.”
He nods. “But he is a bear of little brain.”
I throw my arms tighter around him. “He’s the bear we’ve got. He’s our bear.”
I touch his jaw. Run my finger along the chiseled edge.
He winds me in and we kiss. Lost in Bruno’s arms, with his breath and his tongue stirring me up inside, this dawn could be the perfect place to be.
After I get some breakfast, I can’t face putting on that tea-dress again. Bruno shows me into one of the three junior suites.
“Sorry there aren’t any women’s clothes here..”
“You said, I know. But I’m not loving that dress. From the reactions it got, I don’t think any of you are, either.”
“You would look like heaven wrapped in a tarp. Does it matter all that much, really?”
“Watch and learn, Bruno. Watch and learn.”
The walls of the suite are lined with closets, and the closets are filled with lovely, tailored clothes. I find racks of men’s deck shoes and loafers. I won’t get much use out of them. At best, they’re hardly a step up from the boots I’ve been wearing. And, at a guess, I could get both feet into any one of them. Casual tops, sweaters, rugby shirts and tee-shirts. Shorts. All pretty typical for a boat.
Ah! Here are some pretty nice neckties. Cufflinks. That means there must be some decent shirts.
Now, here in the drawers. Fresh, beautiful, cotton tailored shirts, folded and still wrapped. Big cuffs, high collars.
I thought I saw a green suit in one of these hanging spaces. There. The suit coat is lovely and double-breasted. Way too big to be any use to me, though. But, the pants.
If I can find a wide enough belt I could maybe do something.
No luck with the belt but I have another idea. I take my haul back to the bathroom, where I left the overnight bag.
The pants are long, but I pin them up to make cuffs. The tailored shirt feels fantastic, and I wear it with a big silk tie. no belt, but the whole outfit is set off perfectly with the red and white scarf. I roll it and and pull through the belt loops of the pants, tie it at the side.
I slip into the red Ferragamo T-strap heels.
Next, I pin my hair back and brush in the lightest hint of blusher and shadow.
In one of the closets I saw a dark and faded reddish orange leather bomber jacket. Chances are it will swamp me, but I go and try it. It’s not too huge and the sleeves stay up.
There isn’t a decent sized mirror where I could check the look, but when I strut back into the cabin, the men have drifted in and are sitting around the table with coffee and the reaction on the three men’s faces makes my heart soar. Not nearly as much as the obvious reactions in their pants make my pussy buzz and throb.
