"I think the question that needs to be answered first is what is your name?" Billie Joyce clenched the sheet higher across her full breasts as she stared at the suave man standing at the foot of the bed. How did she get here? Had he kidnapped her to make her his sex slave or something?
"Very well, we can start with my name. I am Daniel Cedric Phillips, at your service."
The cute little bow that went with the statement almost made her smile, until she remembered the alley. Was this one of the men who jumped her when she took the shortcut? One of them pulled a knife and stuck it into her stomach when she resisted their grabby hands. That would explain why her clothes were bloody. No. This dignified gentleman couldn't have been in with those ruffians. To begin with, he was a lot older than either of the two young good-for-nothings who caught her in the alley. So how did he fit into the picture then?
"And you are?" His quirked eyebrow seemed to offer encouragement.
"Billie Joyce Nolan. My family and friends call me Billie Joyce and why am I here? What happened to end me up in this bed?"
"Well Billie, I have a friend who will be here any minute and will answer all of your questions."
He smiled a toothy, perfect smile that she was sure a lot of women would be happy to have directed at them, but the fact he didn't get her name right was none too impressive. "Billie Joyce. My name is Billie Joyce."
"Why do you use two names when one works just fine?" He quirked his eyebrow to emphasize the question.
"That's the way it's done where I come from." The raised eyebrow thing was beginning to get on her nerves. And who was he to make fun of her name like that?
"Oh, and where would that be?"
"Wolf Knoll, just a hoot an' holler in the mountains northwest of Charlotte. My family's lived around in those hills for as long as most can remember." The full lips on the man pulled up in what may have been a smile or a sneer, Billie Joyce wasn't too sure.
"That explains it then. You Southerners seem to have a fixation with two names. I find it unnecessary. Billie works for me."
If she had her clothes, she'd hop right out of this bed and smack what she knew now was a smirk right off his face. "Well, it don't work for me. My name is Billie Joyce and that's what you can call me ... if you need to call me." Obviously, she'd been mistaken in her thoughts of this man making her his sex slave. No one this high-faluting would have anything to do with little old her, no matter what her name was.
The scowl on his face confirmed her thoughts on the subject of him, her and sex. Not on the program. Fine. If he was so uppity, then why didn't he have better manners and offer her something to eat. She was starving. No need to beat around the bush since he was so poorly raised. "I'm hungrier than a hound dog after a disappointing rabbit chase. You got anything to eat around here?"
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