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Chapter 8

But Hubert shook his head vehemently. “That there is temptation and nothing but,” he said, his finger ticking off every part of Bartholomew’s body Hubert would have liked to discover.

“Hubert.” Bartholomew smiled understanding and took two steps closer to the bed. “It’s only ‘temptation’ if you resist it.”

“Oh, I’m resisting it. My mind I couldn’t help it, but I didn’t keep my body pure for twenty-nine years so’s I could die and blow my shot at Paradise with Satan’s finest temptation in the line for the Pearly Gates. You can just put them shorts back on and take that…that…that sinner’s Sunday supper you call a body right on out of here.”