Page 49 of A Pirate of Her Own

“Mind my sewing, read some nice, sweet poetry, and do the laundry.”

“Exactly.”

If looks could kill, Morgan decided he would now be splintered across the far wall.

“Very well,” she said, her voice ice. She moved over to where his laundry was drying. She grabbed his still-dripping coat and threw it over his shoulders. “Since my job is to sit here and keep out of the way and yours is to run the ship, I suggest you get to it!”

“But I—”

“But nothing, Captain. Heaven forbid you leave the helm for more than a minute. Anything could happen. God could toss down a lightning bolt and set fire to the ship. A sea monster could rise up from the depths of the ocean and swallow us whole. Or, dare I say it? The weight of male egos may be so great that it plops a hole right in the center of deck and we sink from it!”

And before he could protest, he found himself standing outside in the hallway, the door closed firmly behind him.

Now, how did she keep doing this to him?

Just as he turned to confront her, the door opened.

Serenity shoved his plate into his hands. “And whatever you do, don’t forget your shoe leather.”

Once more, she slammed the door shut in his face.

“Serenity!” he bellowed, knocking against the door with his clenched fist. “Open this door!”

“Go to the devil, Captain Drake.”

Incensed beyond reason, he snarled, “That’s not very ladylike!”

The door opened and she came at him, her nostrils flared, her eyes smoldering. “Then try this one. Go to hell, and…and rot!”

And before he could move, he once again confronted a shut door. “Serenity!”

“Oh, forgive me, Captain,” she drawled in the most helpless voice he’d ever heard. “But I can’t open that huge old door by myself. Why, I fear I might get a splinter. If only there was some strong, able-bodied man who could save me from my weak and helpless plight…”

Even through the door he heard her sad, melodramatic sigh.

He decided that it was a good thing she didn’t open the door. Because right then, standing in the hallway with his coat dripping on his dry clothes, his plate in his hand, and his male ego greatly offended, he probably would have strangled her.

But sooner or later, she would have to leave, and when she did…

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