She slammed the rusty Toyota door closed with one hip, balancing a bag which was warm and damp and sending scent into the air like spicy incense. “Damn, I’m good.” She was also nervous. It was ridiculous, but she was nervous as she was confronted with Fred’s large suburban home, so different from her cheap and cheerful apartment. The lawn was freshly cut, green from the sprinkler. Palms ruffled in the breeze off the ocean. He probably had a landscaping service since she knew he worked very long hours. Fred had come from money, she’d known that before she’d spotted the Mercedes SUV parked in the driveway. “Okay, so he’s rich. That’s okay. I’m rich in experience,” she coached herself as she walked over the paved stone path to the front door. Fred’s calendar photo flashed through her memory. He’d been wearing a swim suit and T-shirt, but he was a big man, intimidating, with a brutally carved face and a military style haircut. He was nothing like the men she usually dated.
