13 Chapter 13

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Well, this has certainly been a night, I considered as I removed my tuxedo and hung itup. The manager of Mark’s apartment complex had left him a message notifying him he had thirty days to vacate the premises.

Considering the condition of his apartment, I couldn’t blame the man, but I’d been startled by Mark’s display of temper, and although he’d immediately had it under control, I’d made him promise not to hurt the manager.

He’d declined my offer of beer, accepting a bottle of Perrier instead, and we’d satdown to a late night snack of General Tso’s chicken.

We’d chatted of inconsequential things and had made a date to view an exhibit at the National Gallery of Art on Sunday afternoon after my ride with Mother.

Every once in a while I’d catch Mark’s eyes on me, eyes of lust, eyes of lechery, eyes of devouring passion, and I would shiver and find myself unable to look away.

But he’d left me outside my bedroom with nothing more than a grin and a, “‘Night, Quinn.”