French silk sandra brown free pdf
He buttered both slices, sprinkled them with sugar and cinnamon, and bit off a piece. Claire Laurent sprang to mind. Her mouth would taste like warm butter and cinnamon-sugar. Even though his shower wasn't five minutes old, he began to perspire; the tiny droplets trickled down his sides, chest, back, and belly. Arousal curled around his sex like tendrils of mist off a bayou, taunting and teasing and, to his greater frustration, causing quite a reaction.
Ever since his visit to French Silk, he'd been suffering night sweats. Like malaria, the debilitating symptoms recurred night after night. They made him weak, made him crazy, made him horny. He wanted to blame his adolescent malady on the product French Silk manufactured.
If a normal guy looked at enough models wearing skimpy underwear, he would get turned on. It was a rule of nature. Every garment featured in the French Silk catalog was sexy. But always sexy. Those glossy pages were a definite turn-on, but he'd studied centerfolds since about age twelve and had never been plagued with a fever like this. The difference was the woman who inspired the catalog.
Claire Laurent was as provocative as the merchandise she peddled. He couldn't get her out of his mind, and not necessarily within the context of his investigation. He had wondered more than once if those damn bubbles she'd blown weren't in fact a voodoo love potion. For reasons he didn't fully understand, Cassidy had answered evasively. A real heart stopper. Crowder had asked for specifics. Cassidy didn't have any. He doubted that Crowder wanted to hear that his cock got hard every time he thought about Claire Laurent.
Not an auspicious sign for an assistant D. This was the kind of juicy, well-publicized case that ambitious young prosecutors had wet dreams about. And it belonged to him. Crowder that he was capable of taking over the reins when the older man retired. He needed to convince the voting public that he was the right man for the tough job. And he needed to prove to himself, as he had strived to do for five years, that he was one of the good guys and didn't belong behind bars himself. All that was going to be doubly difficult to achieve if one of his suspects made him sweaty and horny.
Claire Laurent couldn't have committed cold-blooded murder. Look at the way she treats her mother , he argued with himself. That logic wasn't worth spit and Cassidy knew it. He'd known serial killers who could weep on command, especially around their mothers. So forget sentiment. Look at it from a practical viewpoint. It wouldn't have made sense for her to kill Wilde. She would risk more by killing him and getting caught than she would if his plans to ruin her business had panned out.
She wouldn't have done it. Even so, something about that situation at French Silk was askew. What was odd about it? Suddenly it occurred to him. No men. All the warehouse workers were women. Harry, the housekeeper, was a nickname for Harriett. Was that exclusivity significant? Was French Silk a prime example of reverse sex discrimination? Though she continued in her occasional position as a showroom model in Dallas, her husband encouraged her to try fiction writing while their children were at school.
He had just left a career as a news anchor and talk-show host to form his own production company, so why shouldn't she take a creative risk, too?
I told you that. Explain this. Why'd you meet with Claire Laurent tonight? Did you have me followed? He cast around for something to look at besides Cassidy's incisive stare. His motions were disjointed, jerky. Download Read Online. A Case of Conscience ipad. A Piece of My Mind txt download. A Year in the World buy.
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