Drowned Vanilla (Cafe La Femme Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

I unzipped the Chanel and let it fall in a flouncy puddle on the floor, leaving me only in a long black slip as I hunted around for the boring shoes.
    ‘Oh, oops.’ One of said boring shoes had ended up in an abandoned half-full cup of coffee. Ew. ‘Might have to go with interesting shoes.’
    Bishop walked over to me, one hand sliding over my hip, wrinkling the light satin fabric of the slip. ‘I can live with interesting shoes.’ He dipped his mouth down to mine again.
    We were late to the fancy dinner.
    Really, really late.
     
     
    Back in March, I kissed two men on the same day. A kiss is just a kiss, right? It doesn’t have to mean anything. Except that one of them did, and I’m almost certain I made the right choice.
    No, I know I made the right choice. I’ve been crazy about Bishop for years. My skin heats up when he steps into a room. He was head of the queue. Hell, he was the entire queue.
    Stewart is a good friend, who makes me laugh and has a hot Scottish accent. But I’m sure now we weren’t ever meant to be more than friends. It’s not like he even made much of a protest when I told him that Bishop and I were together. He shrugged. I mean, who does that? If you really fancy someone, you don’t just shrug when they tell you they are hooking up with another bloke.
    It took Bishop and me a while to figure out some of our issues. We tried being boyfriend and girlfriend and not having sex, but that was a disaster. We got back on the rails when we decided to leave the boyfriend and girlfriend words out altogether, and just get on with the hot sex and occasional dating. It’s good, so far. It works just fine.
    Stewart disappearing on his unplanned blogging trip around Tasmania made everything less complicated, because then I didn’t have to think about the fact that I was spending a lot more energy flirting with the friend I wasn’t sleeping with than the one that I was.
    Oh, and when Stewart’s around, somehow we always end up investigating mysteries together. And I really don’t need that in my life. Give me a hot police officer who disapproves of me getting tangled in such things any day of the week.
    I slept late, which was bad. I’ve been doing that a lot lately — it’s an unfortunate side effect of having a warm snuggly man in bed with me. Getting up for the early food prep is a struggle, even with daylight blistering into my bedroom before six am.
    I’m supposed to get up at five am.
    The alarm went off and I hit the snooze button before snuggling back under the doona. Mm, warm arm. Warm chest. And was that the second or third time I had hit snooze? Damn. I was going to have to check.
    The phone rang, somewhere in the house. Bishop grunted a little and pushed back the doona. I promptly flipped it back over us. ‘Ceege will get it. He’s probably still up.’ My housemate had gone seriously nocturnal in the last few weeks. ‘Or Xanthippe. She has to be at the café as early as I do.’
    ‘Mmm, good.’ Bishop turned into me, his jaw grazing against mine. ‘Very good.’ He looked seriously at me for a long moment, those dark eyes holding mine, and then he started kissing me.
    Say anything you like about the man, once he kisses you, you stay kissed.
    Things were starting to get interesting — hands sliding over heated skin, lips and teeth and tongue getting in on the action, when my mobile rang. I reached out and switched it off without breaking the snog, rolling on top of him as I did so.
    A minute later, Bishop’s phone started to ring. Damn it. The trouble with shagging a police officer is that when his phone rings, he can’t ignore it. I slid off him so he could lean down and pull his phone out of his discarded jacket. He answered briefly, then passed it over to me with an odd look on his face.
    ‘McTavish, for you.’
    I blinked, and looked at his phone. Slowly, I reached out and took it like it was going to bite me, or at the very least, judge me quite hard.