More Than Pleasures Steamy Diaries
The dog leaped toward me but she yanked back on the leash.
"Down, Babs," Tessa said. " Chuck? Holy Smoke, I can't believe it!"
We shared a brief, sweaty hug and the dog was jumping up almost to my shoulders.
"This is Babs," Tessa said. "She's a Jack Russell Terrorist. And not too well trained, I'm afraid."
"Is she your dog?" I asked.
"No, she belongs to my mother. Mom lives right over there," she said, pointing to the entrance to The Ridge, an upscale subdivision of nice homes on fairly large lots.
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