Harley Quinn Romance 2

Chapter 04: Harley Has a Plan

Harley draped the long beach towel across the deck of Bruce's yacht before laying down on her back. Her bikini was in her standard colors, and she'd combined two sets of sunglasses to make one lens black and the other red.

The warm sunlight shone down from the unusually clear sky, and Harley wondered for a moment how Bruce had arranged it.

"Enjoying yourself?" Bruce asked as he shut off the motor and left the control deck to join Harley near the prow. The blue and white tropical shirt and khaki shorts he wore seemed out of place for a man who usually wore formal suits and ties.

"Yep," Harley said with a grin. She opened one eye behind her shades and noticed Bruce looking her over. "You like the view?"

"Very much," Bruce admitted. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure," Harley agreed. Knowing Bruce was watching, she intentionally stretched her hands over her head while arching her back slightly, tightening the skin over her stomach and ribs.

Bruce swallowed hard before asking his question, and Harley had to fight to keep from giggling.

"Do you ever get a tan?" Bruce inquired.

"Nope," Harley denied. "Ever since Mr. J dunked me in the same acid tank that changed him, my skin stays the color of milk. Do you like a girl with a tan?"

"I used to," Bruce admitted, leaning back on the metal railing.

Harley's smile widened.

"Since we're engaged, why don't you tell me about you?" Harley suggested.

"You can read practically everything about me in either the newspapers or tabloids," Bruce dismissed. "Businessman, philanthropist, self-indulgent billionaire."

"That one doesn't fit," Harley pointed out.

"Which one?" Bruce asked.

"Self-indulgent," Harley answered. "You spend all your time with Wayne Enterprises making stuff to help people; you also give large sums of money to a number of charities. Everything you do seems to be geared toward benefitting people other than yourself. As I said, self-indulgent doesn't fit."

"You want to remind me again of where we are?" Bruce asked with a wave toward the luxury yacht on which they floated in Gotham harbor.

"I used to be a psychologist once upon a time," Harley reminded. "You do flashy things for the camera, but they seem too deliberate. It's like you want everyone to think of you as a rich man throwing his money around and living it up when the truth couldn't be more different. I'm wondering why."

"For someone who wants to know about me, you seem to know a great deal already," Bruce stated.

"I've read a newspaper or two," Harley said with a shrug. "But, you didn't answer my question. Why do you fake your public face?"

"I don't want people knowing the real me," Bruce told her.

"And, who is the real you?" Harley insisted.

"When I was eight, my parents were murdered in front of me," Bruce began. He turned away from Harley, holding the railing firmly as if his grip would help him keep his emotions in line. "I never really got over it. Even now, I still have nightmares about it. I keep people I work with at arm's length. Most think I either don't care about anyone or I'm a jerk, maybe both."

"The fact is, you care a lot," Harley concluded. "You push people away so you won't feel the pain of their loss if something should happen to them."