“she said, staring at her bodyguard as she awaited Linda and Traci. Pierre received a wide berth from the Starbucks customers, his massive frame standing out even more among normal sized humans. People stared, women in envy and hunger. Pierre was beyond handsome with his brooding looks, wind-swept blond hair, black clothing and trench coat. He was lined with weapons she’d watched him emplace earlier. His trench coat was too heavy for her to lift by the time he finished stowing the weapons. “Of c...ourse I do. I’m French,” he said and swallowed one whole. “You Americans can’t get it right, though.” “At least you can eat them.” He winked and swallowed another. “I think Pierre was right about that sweater,” Linda said as she rejoined them. “I’m glad I didn’t get it.” “It made you look ten pounds heavier,” he reminded her. “Black isn’t supposed to do that.” “It’s the material, not the color.” Traci joined them, coffee in hand, and they merged into the crowded mall.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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