Being Yours
'You have the look of a hungry man.’
Tensing at the sound of the familiar voice, Jack-son tilted his head around. ‘Sandra, what a . . . surprise.’
‘Is it, darling?’ she purred. Though the barbecue was supposed to be a casual affair, Sandra managed to smell like money in her designer jeans, ostrich boots and plum-colored silk shirt. But then, she’d always been the type to wear a Chanel suit to the grocery store, though he doubted she did anything so menial these days.
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