“Parker had slept on the couch in the spare bedroom he used as an office last night, and I was trying hard not to feel guilty about that. He was injured and had let me have his bed. I’d put up a fight, of course, but it had been like talking to a brick wall. I’d tossed and turned for a while, my mind and logic warring with my heart and emotions. It hadn’t helped at all that the sheets and pillows smelled of Parker. My dreams consisted of him and me in various forms of sexual congress, making... me awaken horny and frustrated. Not a good combination. Coffee cured all ills. Well, most of them. And what coffee couldn’t cure, alcohol could, but pouring a shot of bourbon in my coffee seemed like a bad idea, so I went with a heavy pour of half-and-half instead. I’d dug jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt out of my suitcase and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. If we were going to be digging through thirty years of my dad’s files today, no sense in not being comfortable.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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