As much as she loved living in Denver, there was a certain quality to the air here that seemed to sink the heat through her skin and settle deep in her bones. She was feeling so lazy she was thinking about taking a nap after brunch even though she’d been awake less than an hour. “More beignets, miss?” The butler placed a small dish containing three more of the decadent fried dough squares buried beneath a mound of powdered sugar next to her coffee cup, and she eyed them with great longing. The first serving had disappeared into her mouth as if she’d inhaled them, and if she weren’t careful these would share the same fate. She couldn’t afford the calories as her plus-sized body had a tendency to horde anything sweet and attach it straight to her ass. Besides, what women could feel good about visiting the Marché d'Esclave after sucking down three thousand calories before noon? “I probably shouldn’t—” she began. “In that case, do you mind?” With a wicked twinkle in his eyes, Santos reached for her plate and she slapped his hand away.
