Rebecca’s Cove

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“That’s the best line you could come up with?” The blonde tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the linen-covered table.

“Well, on such short notice,” the brunette quipped. She took a healthy swallow of the vodka gimlet at her elbow.

Hobie Allen was beginning to enjoy this. She thought dining in a restaurant alone would be dreadfully boring, but the women at the table next to her were unknowingly providing some first-rate entertainment. It was difficult not to eavesdrop when her table was only a few feet away from the arguing couple.

“You’re a writer and the best excuse you can dream up is that it’s just not working?”

“You have to give me some credit. I am awfully drunk,” the brunette slurred. She grinned at her own wittiness.

“I would have thought I rated better. After all, we’ve been dating for two weeks.”

“No, dear, we’ve been having sex for two weeks. We haven’t gone anywhere...done anything. It’s just been sex in every elevator and motel in Chicago. Technically,” she motioned around her with one hand, “this is our first date.”

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