The Baxter Trust

Начало книги

Damn.

She rubbed her eyes, sat up in bed and turned to the man sleeping next to her. She grabbed his arm and shook him.

“Johnny!” she said. “Johnny!”

John Dutton, twenty-eight, lean, muscular, pretty boy, stirred slightly and said something noncommittal like, “Mumph.”

She shook him harder.

“Johnny! Wake up! You’ll miss your plane.”

“Good. Good. Miss my plane,” he muttered.

She pulled the pillow out from under his head.

John grimaced, twisted his head around, opened a bleary eye and found himself staring at a magnificent pair of bare breasts.

The thing is, he hadn’t seen them quite this way before. At times when he had been awake, they’d seemed impressive. In the early morning, they impressed him not at all.

“Johnny!” said the breasts. “Wake up! It’s seven-twenty!”

“Fuck it,” Johnny mumbled. He rolled his face into the sheet, away from the breasts.

Sheila hit him with a pillow. “Get up!”

John rolled over onto his back, opened his eyes, squinted at her and gave her the smile she found totally endearing.

Читать дальше →