42 Chapter 42

She turned on her heel and padded across the faded Turkish rug. Christ be thanked. Now finally he'd get the peace he so richly deserved to run his morning his way. Pour as much brandy as he wanted down his throat, starting right here, right now this very minute, with this mouthful. Grin fondly at Etti after he'd summoned her with the hot water. Maybe even do more than that, the nicely appointed derriere she had and those breasts that begged to be touched.

Finally the gods smiled upon him. Life was looking up, in an infinite universe of ways. Give this a day or two and he'd forget this troublesome larcenist ever-care was required with what he thought here ... beguiled him, was probably truer than existed. He washed another mouthful of brandy down his parched throat. Given what she'd done to him ten years ago, the likelihood was he'd be indeed fortunate to forget she existed either. 'Had ever been in his bed,' were probably the best words of all.