Kitty sighed, rolling over onto her back on the chaise lounge. The tiny scraps of fabric covering her breasts and crotch hardly seemed necessary. For the past two days she hadn’t seen another soul come near the house. It was as if she and Jared were at their own private resort. He’d done the cooking, with her assistance. And they’d made marvelous love—on the patio, in his mammoth bedroom, and on the freshly cleaned carpets. They’d been gentle and then rough or rough and then gentle. She felt sated—well, almost. “I’m glad you like my home. But then you bring more than a touch of heaven to the place yourself.” She stared softly at him through her dark sunglasses. “You can be a romantic.” “Does that bother you?” She stretched a leg. “Not as much as it used to. I’m learning that’s simply part of who you are.” “That’s progress, I guess.” She tried not to read too much into that comment as Jared sat up and gave her another of those devastating grins of his.
