“For God’s sake, look what you’re doing,” said her companion. It was dark now, a huge full moon with a smudged apricot-pink face gazed down at her reproachfully. “How could I forget you?” he said ruefully. “Take your hat off, Billy,” whispered a ring steward.
She could still feel the warmth of his leisurely hand and remember the way the brilliant blue eyes had moved over her, assessing, absorbing data like a computer. A hound spoke. Armed with a carrycot, she marched down the hall, sending international show-jumpers flying, and up the stairs. “Ahem,” said Billy.
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