“Lady Writer . . .” came the familiar chocolate rumble.
“Yes, Guy?”
“You know what tomorrow is, don’t you?” He was practically purring, the neckline of his Floppy Black Pirate Shirt untied, allowing a generous glimpse of that enticing smooth, pale flesh. It was enough to distract a girl . . .
“Uhmmmm. Oh, yes– tomorrow . . . is the start of a long Memorial Day weekend and it’s—the unofficial start of summer!”
She gave Guy a sunny grin as she clapped her hands together.
Guy paired a flick of a lustrous lock of raven hair with a disdainful manly sniff. He lifted a supercilious brow.
“Well, yes. But–there’s something else.”
Lady Writer furrowed her brow as if in deep thought. “Let me think . . .”
Guy folded his arms with marked impatience. “It’s Friday? It’s . . . you know what happens on Fridays.” His own brow crinkled, Sir Guy looked a bit distressed.
Lady Writer bit her lip. “Yes. I know. Of course I know. It’s–Guyday Friday time, it’s Guyday Friday time!!” She sang, waving jazz hands at Guy.
Guy gave another, happier sniff and lifted his chin. “I knew you hadn’t forgotten!”
Lady Writer gave a rather Guy-like smirk. “As if!”
Guy’s azure eyes narrowed as he rubbed the bridge of his rather magnificent nose. He had something else on his mind.
“Is there still any of that Tres Leches cake that Mr. Lady Writer baked?”
“You mean that ultra-moist and decadent dish to be eaten with fresh sweet blueberries from our own bushes, juicy strawberries and whipped cream?”
As she spoke, the tip of Guy’s pink tongue darted out to lick his Cupid’s-bow as those kohl-rimmed eyes widened again. Lady Writer was a bit sorry she had ended her description.
Sir Guy was so — expressive.“Yeah. That one.” Guy’s voice was definitely a deep, purring, delicious purr.
Lady Writer gave a sassy head nod in the direction of the kitchen. “Waiting for you on the bottom shelf of the fridge. Bring me a piece too, won’t you?”
Sir Guy gave her a courtly little nod. “As you wish, my lady,” and turning, strode out of the room.
Lady Writer could not fail to take notice of how well the Dark Knight’s Marvel of Engineering Trousers suited his own distinctive physique.
“Looks great coming–and going,” she said with a happy little sigh. “Ya gotta love him.”
the armitage effect 