Jacques Lawrence at your service

The voice was deep, resonant and a little lazy; Paulette looked up into warm, brown eyes, and six foot four inches of well-honed muscles. Here, let me.

Simone turned her head toward the sound and there he was. Where did the oxygen go? Her eyes locked on the tall, lean, hard body in front of her. She was hot; the air conditioning must not be working. She immediately dropped her eyes down to his shoes, neat, just what I like.

At your service, ladies

Jacques was studying Simone while everybody was busy being busy. His eyes covered everything, long legs, just like he liked them, a thin, athletic body. Here is my chance, thought Jacques. He reached for her arm and she gave him her hand. I don't even like shaking hands and here I am putting my hand in a stranger's hand. She quickly removed her hand and started toward the elevator, the handsome stranger dragging the loaded cart, getting on last.

The door opened on the sixth floor and Jacques got off pulling the cart with him. Simone got off last. She started down the hall. She could feel his eyes on her as they roamed unchecked over her body. She knew her hips had an extra swing to them and she couldn't help it.

As she floated down the hall, Jacques thought, being in this mud hole wouldn't be so bad if she were connected to the registered letter that got him here in the first place. Now where did that thought come from? Right now, an inheritance is the last thing on my mind.