Just because there's snow on the roof, it doesn't mean the fire's gone out on the hearth! |
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The Showboat Affair Despite over thirty years in a faithless marriage to wealthy investment broker Rand Kingston, Jean is shocked when he asks for a divorce. Encouraged by her former housekeeper-turned-best-friend, she determines to rediscover herself as an independent woman and move on with her life. Nick Cameron, prominent attorney and long-time widower, would like to figure in her plans. The opposition of their adult children surprises them. Then, a series of chilling near misses makes them wonder who really is determined to keep them apart—and why. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jean, still wearing her gown and robe, mixed the batter for waffles while Nick washed up in the guest bath and used one of her disposable razors and leg cream to shave. “I used my finger as a toothbrush,” he said, cozying up behind her to kiss her neck. She shivered. “Not before breakfast.” “And not after dinner either, apparently.” He laughed. “You’re skating a thin line.” But she laughed, too. He put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I need coffee.” “It’s ready, and the waffle iron is hot, so you’ll have breakfast in a minute.” The peal of the doorbell startled both of them. “This could look bad,” Nick said. “Not if it’s Selina. Maybe it’s her. She went to look at some of those ice cream parlor tables I was telling you about last week.” Jean eyed him critically. “Button your shirt.” “It’s pretty rumpled.” “Button it anyway.” She brushed past him on her way to the door. “Maybe you should disappear.” “Are you serious?” Jean sighed. “No.” At the front door, she peered through the viewer and let out her breath in dismay. Juliana stood there, her jaw set, looking primed for battle. Jean unlocked the door and opened it. “What brings you here so early, Juliana?” “I had some errands over this way. Aren’t you going to ask me in?” Jean stepped back. “Yes, of course. Come in. I have a guest.” Juliana’s eyebrows met her hairline. “A guest? I am interfering with your sleeping arrangements then.” Jean made a quick decision not to defend herself. “Come in the kitchen. I’m making waffles.” Nick rose hastily as the women walked in. “You must be Nick Cameron,” Juliana snapped. “Guilty.” “My mother’s lover.” “Juliana!” Jean felt the blood drain from her face. “How dare you!” Nick’s eyes flashed, but his voice was courtroom courteous. “I spent the night on the sofa.” “Of course, you did.” His mouth twitched. “But if I’d spent it in your mother’s bed, it would have been her business, not yours.”
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