Cold Night (Jack Paine Mysteries)
“He turned, ready, but it was Rebecca Meyer. "You didn't answer your phone," she said.
"I wasn't home," Paine said. He opened the door for her and she went in. As she passed, something stirred in him, deep down. It was something primal, animal, but it wasn't only sexual. It both frightened and elated him.
She took off her coat. Her hair was more feminine today, brushed back from a center part. She looked older. She was wearing makeup. Her tennis togs were gone, replaced by slacks and a loose cotton blouse that didn't hide the fact that she was not wearing a bra. Paine thought of Ginny, the sweater she had worn, the one that had shown off her breasts.
He decided he had a thing about breasts.
"Do you have anything to drink?" she asked, sitting in one of the armchairs that had held Ginny's bags the day before.
"Ginger ale," he said, turning to get her one from the kitchen before she could say that's not what she meant.
When he turned from the refrigerator with the can, she was standing in... front of him.MoreLess
"I wasn't home," Paine said. He opened the door for her and she went in. As she passed, something stirred in him, deep down. It was something primal, animal, but it wasn't only sexual. It both frightened and elated him.
She took off her coat. Her hair was more feminine today, brushed back from a center part. She looked older. She was wearing makeup. Her tennis togs were gone, replaced by slacks and a loose cotton blouse that didn't hide the fact that she was not wearing a bra. Paine thought of Ginny, the sweater she had worn, the one that had shown off her breasts.
He decided he had a thing about breasts.
"Do you have anything to drink?" she asked, sitting in one of the armchairs that had held Ginny's bags the day before.
"Ginger ale," he said, turning to get her one from the kitchen before she could say that's not what she meant.
When he turned from the refrigerator with the can, she was standing in... front of him.MoreLess
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