“Come in,” I said again, stepping aside, knowing I was in trouble because he was far too sweet not to enjoy on various levels: physically, emotionally, psychologically, and playfully.
He listened, walked inside my Tudor, brushed his left hip against my stomach on purpose, and attempted to discreetly seduce me.
We sat across from each other in the dimly lit and petite sitting room at the front of the house. I would have gladly offered the man a drink, but alcohol only caused me to look more attractive when men were drunk in my company. Those same men also became frisky, which was out of the question regarding Beckley. Instead, I listened to him say, “I have some very important information for you regarding Tad Dossner’s murder.”