Too Hot To Handle

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Barbara Daly. Too Hot To Handle

“Well, it’s late. I’d better go.”

Books by Barbara Daly

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Отрывок из книги

“Yes, I suppose….” Sarah answered.

Desire stretched between them like a taut, heavy rope. If either tugged, the other would topple and this farce, this forced politeness, would be over. All she had to do was smile, open the door, let him leave, take two aspirin and retreat to her bed, alone, for twelve more years.

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“Enjoy your stay in New York,” she said over her shoulder.

She got up the steps and through the doorway, fumbling with her keys. She made it to the tiny elevator at the end of the hall, to her apartment on the fifth floor and at last, to solitude.

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