She slept with a slight, contented smile on her lovely face. She slept with her long Titian hair in careless disarray, framing her heart-shaped head on the pillow. She slept with the light cover thrown back and covering only her left calf.
And she slept, as they say, in her birthday suit.
There were delightful curves. There were delightful hummocks. There were delightful valleys. And highlights and shadows....
Heck stood uncertainly on the threshold, gaping. Should he enter the room? Should he beat a hasty and strategic retreat? Should he....
He took a hesitant step into the room. His foot struck something. It wasn't much of a sound, but it was enough. Patty was a light sleeper. Her eyes blinked open. She looked at Heck without seeing him. Maybe the moonlight blinded her.
"Get—out!" she yelled.
A man, Heck thought. She sees a man. She doesn't know it's me yet.
She was sitting up now, clutching the cover to her chin. She pointed imperiously at the door. "How dare you come in here? How dare...." She stopped. Rage replaced surprise and fear on her face. Patty was definitely no clinging vine type of girl.
She leaped from the bed, draping the light cover over her body. She made straight for Heck, fire in her eyes. "No second-storey man's going to get away with coming in here!" she cried, her Irish wrath rising. Apparently she still hadn't seen Heck's face. He tried to flee, but stumbled over whatever he had stumbled over before.