Chapter 55

“Whatever you think is best, Mrs. Santore.” Having solicited the exact answer for which she angled, she left the room faster than a cat with a stolen can of tuna.

“Your room is through this door,” Donald indicated. “Follow me.”

* * * *

Donald carefully led Brian through the connecting door to the suite just right of the sitting room. Donald had watched Brian with covert glances throughout their short conversation. He was hard as a steel girder and leaking like a faucet. He made up his mind that Brian would be in his bed before the weekend was out.

A pair of soft leather Club Chairs flanked the open hearth in this suite. The décor was masculine, a discretely understated mixture of early colonial and traditional made the area welcoming.