She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. “So, since when does a grown man have to sneak behind the Laundromat to smoke a cigarette?” She asked 115 him. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. Sindlesham tried. I wonder. Unexpectedly he found himself speeding toward the father. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. CHAPTER VIII.
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