I raised my eyebrows. “I had my hand innocently on your knee. Until you did some kind of spontaneous pelvic thrust and rubbed yourself on me. Frankly, I felt violated.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

I took a deep breath. I was having fun. There was no denying that, but I had to admit she was right. We both had a lot on the line here. “Okay. I’ll apologize for touching your knee if you apologize for pelvic thrusting yourself into me and then kissing me on the cheek. Fair?”

Pearl looked like her idea of “fair” at that particular moment would be kicking me hard enough between the legs to end the Slater line right then and there. To her credit, she tilted her chin up with a touch of defiance and muttered something that sounded like “sorry”.

“Your Daddyplums forgives you.”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“But it’s the first pet name you gave me. That’s important. These are the kinds of memories a good couple like us should cherish for years.”

“Dean, I really will kill you. I know where you sleep.”

I smirked, and her anger finally broke enough that she smiled back–just for a moment.

“So is your stomach really hurting?”

“No,” she said.

“Then you made me miss the steak for nothing? I assume you have other plans to feed your man?”

“If we stayed at that table any longer, there was no telling what kind of crazy stories you might tell about us. You should be thanking me.”

“You’re right. I was thinking of telling them how we made a vow to skinny dip and eat wedding cake for our one year anniversary.”

Pearl rolled her eyes, arms folded. “I’m going back to the room and I’m ordering room service.”

“Our second date already. Things are moving so fast,” I said, jogging to catch up with her.

* * *

Our food was spread out on the foot of the bed. She’d ordered salad, a baked potato, a chocolate and strawberry milkshake, and a slice of chocolate cake. I had a cheeseburger and fries. When I tried to sit cross legged beside her on the bed, she’d kicked me off and pointed to the chair, so I was sitting backwards in my chair in front of the bed. Pearl still had on the green dress but she’d kicked off her shoes and let her hair down. I was munching on my burger and trying to decide which version I liked better. The done-up, prim and proper version of Pearl I’d seen at dinner? Or maybe the frumpy, ready to bite your head off version I’d seen after her day of travel. Of course, the nauseated, dressed for work version was a strong contender.

Maybe the problem was I liked all the versions of her, because each one came with the patented Pearl sass and fire. Call me a masochist, but I enjoyed how spunky she was. I also liked how just beneath that fire, there was a delicate edge to her. It was almost like she was lashing out when I got too close because she was afraid of letting me see how fragile she was beneath the angry exterior.