Read A Fashionable Affair for Free Online

comment.” Even to herself her voice sounded odd. She pushed her coffee cup away and rose. “Well, Sal, thanks so much for the hospitality, but I’d better be pushing on.”
    “Okay,” Sally said equably. “Do you want me to ring Michael and tell him you’re on the way?”
    “That might be a good idea. I don’t want to rout him out of bed.”
    “Will do,” Sally promised and walked Patsy to her car. It was nine-thirty when Patsy pulled out of the driveway and started across the island toward the south shore and Michael Melville.
    * * * *
    Michael was renting a house in East Hampstead, and at precisely five minutes after ten, Patsy rang his front doorbell. Receiving no answer, she rang again. His car was parked in the driveway, so she knew he must be home. She was just preparing to ring again when she heard a voice saying, “Okay, okay, I’m coming,” and the door opened.
    Michael stood in the doorway, wallet in hand. He was wearing a bathrobe over his pajama bottoms. His hair was tousled and he was unshaven. His feet were bare. He stared at Patsy. “I thought you were the paperboy collecting.”
    “I’m not,” she answered helpfully.
    “No, I can see that.” He rubbed his head. “Sorry, the doorbell woke me up.”
    “Didn’t Sally call to say I was on my way?”
    “No.”
    “Oh she must have gotten sidetracked.” There was a pause before she added, “Do you keep all your clients hanging about on the doorstep like this?”
    “Sorry,” he muttered, and held the door open wider. “Come on in. What time is it?”
    “Ten o’clock. It’s easy to see there are no children in this house.”
    They were standing together in the hall, he rubbed his head again and yawned. “I was up half the night with that damn math problem.”
    “Hmmm. Do you always look this ghastly in the morning?”
    At that he grinned. “Come into the kitchen. I need a cup of coffee.”
    “Several, I should think,” Patsy murmured. She followed him into an old-fashioned kitchen and watched as he assembled the coffee things. “I’ll make it,” she offered. “Why don’t you go shower?”
    A piece of his hair was standing straight up and she suddenly recalled the way he had looked as a little boy. “Good idea,” he said. He smiled faintly. “I’ll even shave.”
    He didn’t look ghastly at all, Patsy thought. In fact, his rumpled, tousled, half-naked state was rather disturbingly attractive. Good God, Patsy thought, as she realized where her thoughts were leading her. This is Michael! Sally’s little brother! What on earth has gotten into me? She marched to the percolator with determination and began to measure the coffee. Behind her, she heard him leave the room and go upstairs.
    She was sitting at the scarred wooden table with a cup in front of her when he returned to the kitchen. His black hair was wet from the shower, and he was wearing an old pair of jeans and a plaid sport shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He went to the counter, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat across from Patsy.
    “What time did Steven have you up this morn ing?” he asked.
    “He arrived in my bed at seven sharp. To keep me company, he said. Mommy had Daddy, after all, and he was afraid I was lonely.”
    He grinned. “What a diabolically clever excuse for getting into bed with a girl. I must remember it.”
    Patsy gave him an austere look. “Would you like me to scramble you some eggs?”
    “Great.” He sipped his coffee as Patsy collected eggs from the refrigerator and broke them into a bowl. He put the news on the radio, and they both listened while she cooked. When the weather report came on, Michael turned the volume up slightly. As Patsy placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him, he gave her an absent- minded smile and picked up his fork, his attention clearly on the weatherman and not on her. Strangely enough, Patsy did not feel annoyed. At the moment she felt only contentment in waiting on him, and she sat