Chapter 13

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Midnight, dark and endless. My mind was uneasy and I stayed up watching reruns of Will and Grace. I ate Godiva ice cream and flipped through the channels during commercials, thought of the delicious-looking pool boy from that entertaining afternoon: soft looking eyes, narrow lips, succulent dimples, broad shoulders, a rounded smile, dashing splay of hard chest, high-and-tight brown hair, pop-through-nipples under his too-tight tee…

The phone rang. I jumped. Who had the utter balls to call me so late at night? No one I knew. Did an emergency occur with Reynolds in Puerto Rico? Had one of my dearest friends in New York City, a fellow author, fallen ill? Only emergencies come during the night. Fatal calls. Unimaginable calls. I flicked the flatscreen off, picked up the phone on the second ring, and barked into the receiver, “Hello?”

“Robert?” It was a familiar voice. Serious and feminine. A perfect evening chime to my ears. A non-emergency.