The Billionaire's Baby Blues

“Don’t you have a nightgown or something?” Evelyn asked Bruce as he held out one of his old T-shirts. He knew it’d be like a tent on her.

“I’m sorry, Eve,” he apologized. “It’s all I have, despite the rumors you’ve heard that would make you think otherwise.”

“So you’re not the playboy the gossip papers make you out to be?”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions based on some little blurb you read or some grainy photo you see. I thought that you were smarter than that.”

“I am, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce let out an exasperated sigh. “Eve, you can call me Bruce.”

“I will call you Mr. Wayne until I tire of that,” Evelyn told him. She took the T-shirt he was holding. “Now, can you show me to a guest room or something so I can change?”

“I can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because you’re staying in here.”

“Let me guess, for my safety?”

Bruce nodded.

She let out a small groan. “Of course. Would you mind looking at something other than me for the next few moments then?”

He smiled and looked up at the ceiling. He only looked at her again when she gave him permission. Evelyn was slightly surprised at his being such a gentleman. She then discreetly watched him as he shed his clothes down to nothing but his boxers. Bruce was built well, but she couldn’t help but notice all the scars that he had.

“Looks like you’ve been beaten up pretty badly,” Evelyn remarked as she absentmindedly traced her finger over a faded scar on his upper arm.

“None of them hurt as bad as you’d think,” Bruce whispered. His face was closer to hers than she thought.

“Oh, that’s nice,” she whispered.

Before Evelyn knew it, he kissed her.