Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
He picked up her toiletry bag and unzipped it.
“Hey! Is that really necessary?” She grabbed for the bag, but he drew it away, giving her a quelling look.
“Yes.”
“Good grief. What the heck do you think I’m going to hide in my toiletry bag? There’s no bomb in my tampons, you know.”
Shoot. Why had she just said that?
The customs officer raised his eyebrows. “So I need to check your tampons. Good to know.”
“You can’t do that! This has got to be against the rules. Tampons are sacred.”
“Tampons aren’t sacred.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” she added desperately.
“We have the right to search your belongings at any time. It was in the agreement you signed.”
Shoot. Had it been?
“I have really got to start reading things before I sign them,” she said.
The customs officer gave her a stern look. “Yes, you do.” Drawing out his phone, he tapped a message, then put it back in his pocket.
“I thought we couldn’t use our phones in here.” She really needed to check on Uncle Willy, though he probably wouldn’t answer her call. He said these new phones confused him.
But she knew the truth.
She sighed sadly.
“You can’t,” the guy said.
Wow. “You should enter a personality contest. You’d totally win.”
“That so?” he drawled.
Yeah. For the grumpiest prick. But she didn’t say that. She had some restraint. See? She could be a good girl.
Well, sometimes.
“Uh-huh. Now, if I could just have that back . . . ” She reached for her toiletry bag again, but he drew it away.
“I don’t think so,” he murmured. “I still have to search through your tampons.”
She groaned. Bollocks.
Crap. Those weren’t even the worst things he could find. What if he saw her vibrator? At least she’d hidden it and Ziggy in a special compartment, so hopefully, he wouldn’t find it.
As soon as he opened up her bag, things started tumbling out. Why couldn’t she be tidier? Why couldn’t she have packed things neatly? Instead, everything was thrown in at the last moment without much thought.
Her cheeks burned as he started going through the packets of drugs and tubes of cream on the table.
“Laxatives and diarrhea medication?” he murmured, holding two packets up.
Just kill her now.
Her cheeks were so hot that she knew she must look like a tomato.
“I don’t think we need to talk about my bowel health,” she said stiffly.
“Maybe you do need to talk to a professional about it if you need these.”
“Well, sometimes when I travel, I get blocked up. And then other times, I eat something that makes me . . . look, I truly don’t think we need to be talking about this!” She attempted to snatch the items back, but he held them up high.
He was abnormally tall. Maggie felt sorry for him. It must be horrid to be able to reach everything without having to jump or get a stool.
Awful.
“Give them back to me! You . . . you complete shitdick!”
As she yelled that insult, the door to the room opened and a dark-haired man walked in. He had tanned skin and his face was clean-shaven. He was a few inches shorter than Grumpy-Knickers-Man, who looked like he hadn’t shaved in days and whose dark-blond hair was in desperate need of a cut. The jerk was built big. Wide in the chest, with thick arms.
And why did she care about what either of them looked like? She should be thinking about Uncle Willy and getting to him before he became upset.
Shit. She hoped he was all right.
“Uh, is everything all right in here?” the new officer asked.
How come he wasn’t in uniform either? This airport seemed very relaxed in some ways and extremely uptight in others.
And really? All right? Did everything look okay?
She’d thought observational skills would be a necessary skill for a customs officer to have.
“He won’t give me my drugs! He’s been touching my underwear. And he wants to inspect my tampons!” she cried.
Right.
Well. She sounded liked she’d lost the plot.
Rein it in, Maggie.
Before they kick you out of the country.
“Um. Right.” Second guy turned to the first one, who was shaking his head at her. “Ian, you want to give her back her medication? And, uh, stop looking at her tampons?”
“I wasn’t looking at her damn tampons or pawing her underwear. Why would I want to?” Ian grumbled.
Ouch.
“Some people like pawing my knickers, I’ll have you know,” she muttered.
Now, both of them were staring at her incredulously.
“What the hell?” the first guy muttered. “Lady, are you—”
“Hey, I brought the condition of entry agreement,” the second guy interrupted Ian, a.k.a. Grumpy-Knickers-Man. “Why did you need it? Did you lose the other one?”
What had Ian been going to ask her?
“No, I didn’t lose the first one,” Ian said. “She didn’t read it before signing it.”
“Ahh.” The second guy turned to her with a grimace. “You really should read things before signing them.”