Blooming: Veronica Read Online Free PDF

look anyone in the face. But to give her the benefit of his doubt, Talbot fixed his sights to the direction of hers.
    And wound up at her notebook.
    For definite, Miss Cooper had not climaxed. A woman does not go in search of a pad of paper before the afterglow even wears off.
    But if not an earth-moving orgasm, what the hell was she in such an all-fired rush to write about in her notebook?
    Nothing.
    She had nothing to write about in that notebook.
    Except the makings of another bestseller.
    What others called lying or Mad Hatter delusion, the publishing world called creativity. Veronica Cooper had bushels of it and then some.
    And what did that call Talbot?
    Amazingly astute for believing the author could spin something book-worthy out of even a nonevent.
    His limp pointed to a youth lost, but being right never did grow old. He had known all along Miss Cooper was one hell of a fine writer, and he was contracting her second book regardless of what he had to do to get it.
    * * *
    Seated atop the desk in the library, Veronica tried not to fidget.
    Would Robert never leave?
    Of course, she loved him to absolute pieces, but would he just go?
    Positively desperate to return to her writing, she hurried him along. “I shan’t keep you. After toiling all day at the pier, you must be famished.”
    “I could eat a horse.”
    Her nose crinkled.
    Ewwww. How perfectly disgusting.
    Made more so by the credibility of his statement. Robert could indeed eat a horse.
    Was he hung like one?
    She dragged her gaze away from her notebook, where a dark moment pleaded to be completed, and looked over at him, a southerly glance.
    Alas, to no avail. Her modest lover had already stuffed his member sight unseen back into his trousers.
    “Food here, ain’t there?” he asked.
    Ignoring his slaughtering of the English language, she considered Robert’s question. Their generous host that evening had provided a lovely buffet, watercress sandwiches, deviled eggs, and such fare.
    Tea foods that catered to the delicate palate would never do Robert, a strictly (horse)meat and potatoes man. And he was in work clothes, his breath reeking of whiskey. When had he trimmed his beard last?
    His mingling with this esteemed literary group would embarrass her.
    Oops! At the slip, Veronica bit her lip. She meant him. Of course, she meant him. In Robert’s present dishabille, mingling would embarrass him . Not her. She absolutely adored him just as he was.
    Dim as an unlit candlewick.
    And that was just too, too terrible of her to think.
    After straightening out her skirts…and her evil grin…she slid both feet to the floor. Though not discomforted nearly as much this time, she longed to go home and bathe. Seminal fluids saturated her pubic hair, which in turn made her drawers cling. Refreshed and with a change of clothing, perhaps then she would be able to return to writing the unfinished dark moment.
    First, to rush a certain someone out the door.
    “Perhaps, Robert, if I gave you money, you might dine elsewhere…” Though not penniless, her lover was often insolvent. Or, minimally, short of funds. He often accepted loans from her, which she was confident he would repay.
    Someday.
    She loosened the drawstring on her French reticule, and he promptly extended his hand. He kept it there, midair, palm upward, even after she had emptied the bag’s contents, a few bills, into his clutching fingers.
    Her money purse’s metal fastener made a resounding snap as she closed it. “I fear that is the extent of my available money, Robert. My allowance is quite depleted until the first of next month.”
    “But you can get more. Right?” Robert stuffed the cash inside his coat alongside the stolen flask of whiskey and then stepped back. “You know, an advance. For the fripperies and whatnots you society ladies buy.”
    Robert’s whining tore at her heartstrings. Really it did. But when on earth would he leave?
    “I could go begging to Papa for the money,” she