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"Yes, it's half ten."
"But I never, ever sleep until ten thirty." She stares at the clock for a few seconds, then her entire body relaxes, melting her shocked expression. "This is amazing. I slept late, and I don't feel even a twinge of guilt."
"No reason to feel guilty. You're on holiday, after all." I tug the sheet up to cover her breasts. "Why did you pour cognac down your throat to help me with Dexter?"
"Because I figured he'd like watching me get tipsy, and then he'd be in a better mood and decide to talk business after all."
"I understand that bit. But why do that forme? We hardly know each other."
"Because I like you."
"I like you too. Very much."
Her lips curl into a sweet smile.
Someone knocks on the door.
"Breakfast," Ilsa calls out to us. "Should I bring it in or leave it at the door?"
"Leave it, please," I say. "Thank you, Ilsa."
"You're welcome."
I crawl out of bed and retrieve the tray of food Ilsa left for us. There's also a folded piece of paper on the tray. Once I've gotten back into bed with Maddie, with the tray over my lap, I open the folded paper.
"What's that?" Maddie asks, pushing up to sit beside me. "The bill for breakfast?"
She's smirking, so I know she's joking. Sir Dexter Armstrong-Hill would never make anyone pay for a meal in his house. I deduced that fact after spending a few hours with the man. He might be strange and often frustrating, sometimes even infuriating, but he treats his guests well.
"No, it's not the bill," I say. "It's a note from Dexter inviting us to join him on the veranda whenever we're ready."
Maddie leans into me, peering down at the paper in my hand. "He has beautiful handwriting. Mine is terrible."
"Isn't that a requirement for being a doctor?"
"Ha-ha. I'm not a medical doctor, anyway. I have a PhD."
"Yes, I remember. But you save lives all the same, don't you?"
"Not the way you and Rika make it sound. My job is primarily research." She plucks the silver lid off the plate that sits on the tray. "Ooh, yum. That looks delicious."
"The end of the note tells us what the food is." I squint at the smaller words at the bottom of the page. "Can't tell what it says without my reading glasses."
"Allow me." She takes the note. "Blue cheese quiche. Waffle sandwiches with avocado and arugula. Mixed berries with mint leaves. Mimosas made with apple cider instead of champagne." She puckers her lips like she's trying not to smile. "And finally, chocolate coffee for the lovely lady who overindulged last night."
"I don't see how we can eat all of this."
"Maybe Dex will give us a doggy bag."
"He just might." I consider the meal laid out on the tray. "There's only one mimosa and one cup of coffee."
"We can share." She lifts the coffee cup to my lips. The whipped cream on top grazes my mouth. "Go on, Richard, have the first sip."
"You can call me Rick all the time if you want. I like the way you say it." I take a sip of the coffee since Maddie is tipping the cup toward my mouth. If I don't drink it, the coffee will wind up dribbling down my chin and onto my chest. "I've never had chocolate coffee before. It's surprisingly good."
She samples the drink. "Mm, yum. Let's try the mimosa next."
"Will you call me Rick? More than once, I've said you can."
