He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. “You are late,” she murmured. 92 She did not notice the police car sitting near the Beck house until they were pulling into the driveway. “It is Michelle, John.
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