THE STRICT BRITISH BARRISTER: ACT ONE by Maggie Carpenter Read Free Book Online

him, thinking it was just right to impress the debonaire British writer. Running a brush through her hair, and adding some pink lip gloss, she took a deep breath and headed out the door.
    I can’t believe he called me. Should I flirt with him? Should I hold back? Good grief, I don’t know how to act.
    Be natural, be who you are. He obviously likes you.
    Standing outside his door she suddenly wished she’d chosen a different outfit, then didn’t, then shaking off her insecurity she knocked.
    “It’s unlocked, come on in,” he called.
    Pushing down the handle she walked in to find him standing at the cabin’s compact bar, pouring some champagne into a tall flute that was already half-filled with orange juice.
    “Would you care for a Mimosa?” he smiled. “I thought it would be the perfect drink to celebrate with our breakfast.”
    “Yes, I would, definitely,” she replied, that will be just the thing to calm me down.
    “Please, have a seat,” he said, pointing to the dining table by the window. “I was going to have the table placed on the deck, but I thought it might be a bit windy. Seems the weather is kicking up a bit today.”
    “Thank you,” she replied, walking across to sit down. “I noticed that too. I poked my head out a few minutes ago and it was blustery.”
    “I do hope we’re not in for a storm,” he frowned. “It’s most unlikely this time of year, but a squall can whip up at unexpected times.”
    “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been on a cruise, never been anywhere much,” she admitted, then wished she hadn’t. Shoot, I’ll bet you like worldly women, women who have traveled.
    “I was on a cruise last year and it was clear skies and smooth waters for the entire trip,” he said, walking to the table carrying their drinks, “but from what I understand, the year before they did meet with some rough seas at one point. Of course it wasn’t here, not this route, but my point is that squalls can happen any time.”
    “I don’t like the sound of that,” she frowned. “I’m not sure how I’d cope with big waves and the ship lurching.”
    “The ship’s doctor can give you something if you get a bit queasy, but enough of that,” he declared, placing the champagne drink in front of her and sitting down opposite her. “You’re here to help me celebrate.”
    “How exciting it must to write a book. Congratulations,” she beamed, lifting her glass.
    “Thank you,” he smiled, clinking it with his.
    Sipping the fizzy drink she felt the bubbles settle on her tongue, and quietly, but happily sighed. He was so handsome and charming, and the drink was delicious.
    “Champagne and fresh squeezed orange juice, it doesn’t get much better than that,” she declared. “I’m so honored that you want to share this with me.”
    “Please, eat before it gets cold,” he insisted, “and I’m honored that you accepted. I am curious though, did you have an opportunity to read any of Educating Emily?”
    Brittany hadn’t expected the question so soon, and feeling a hot blush move across her face she kept her eyes on the table, spooning some scrambled eggs and roasted potatoes on to her plate.
    “Uh, yes, quite a few chapters,” she said softly, wishing she could tell him the truth; that she had made it to the last page, and that it was the most tantalizing and sexiest thing she’d ever read in her life. “You’re such a good writer,” she added, “the way you, uh, describe things.” Heavens, did I just say that?
    “That’s very kind of you, I’m glad you think so. I wonder what the chef put in these eggs to make them so delicious.”
    “Yes, they’re excellent,” she replied. Eggs? How can you talk about eggs when I’m dying over here? “What’s your new book about? Is it the same, uh, subject matter?” Oh, my gosh, what’s wrong with me? Why do I keep saying these things? Are you like Jonas? That’s what I really want to know, that’s what I have to know.
    “Yes, I