“Quinn.” A cool, tentative hand touched Simon’s shoulder. Years of living under duress had made his valet’s stealthy approach into the bedchamber impossible to overlook, but exhaustion kept Simon prone on the bed and unmoving. He opened one eye and met the frown-capped gaze of the servant. The man was blushing. Most likely because of the woman lying beside Simon. With his head turned away, Simon could not be certain, but he would not be surprised if the lovely brunette was baring more of her lus...h body in slumber than she ever would while awake. “You have a caller, Mr. Quinn.” “What time is it?” “Seven.” “Bloody hell.” He closed his eye, but he was fully aware now. He was not a man people visited to discuss inanities. “Unless they are ablaze or otherwise mortally wounded, tell whoever it is to return at a decent hour.” “I attempted to. He responded by moving a large quantity of trunks into one of the guest bedrooms.” Simon’s eyelids lifted, as did his head.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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