Allegra limped in, her muscles aching from the afternoon walk. She’d watched him through the window last night. Rousseau. Pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Naked and aroused. And thankfully alone. She’d been glad Michelle was asleep in the other room. Her friend wouldn’t let her hear the end of it if she knew Allegra was so greedy for a glimpse of the man that she’d taken to peeping. He looked angry. Frustrated. Had someone turned him down? Left him, of all people, sexually frustrated? Somehow she didn’t think so. Couldn’t even imagine the possibility. He was a glorious specimen, but it was her heart, not her body, that melted as she studied him. She wanted to soothe his hurt, his anger. Wanted to hold him, to make him smile like he had that first day when she’d gotten him to laugh. He didn’t laugh enough. Shit. She was falling for a man who, if Michelle could be believed, thought he was possessed by a voodoo spirit. Falling fast without any clue where she would land.
