Strangers

The distant chiming of the clock in the hallway told me it was eight in the morning. I opened my eyes to the early rays of light. True to his promise, Mr. Weston had touched nothing but my hand. Even in his sleep. I carefully untangled his fingers from mine so I didn't wake him.

The cool air of morning touched my exposed skin and sent a shiver through me. I blushed remembering the way he'd stared at my body, but there was no time for that today. There was no third day. "Jack Weston" would not be appearing again and I had to prepare for whoever might come down the stairs later.

I got dressed and went downstairs to wait for Thomas. I went to the lounge and sat in a chair near a large window. I stared out at the rose garden nostalgically. In just a few short days how many important things had happened here? I came here to escape being homeless and broke. How did I