She rose to the fire to stoke it. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. You are—horrible. “Odd little room,” said Ann Veronica, dimly apprehending that obtrusive sofa. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. . A spacious suite of rooms down the hall John described as “my parents love den” with a grimace as Lucy smiled. Not MY affair. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head.
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