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“Why are you calling me at home, Jackson?”
“I take it that’s a no-no.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
He hesitated several beats, then said, “Okay, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t remember if I thanked you for taking my case.”
“I haven’t taken your case exactly, but yes, you thanked me.”
Silence.
“It was good to see you, Hallie, after all this time.” His voice had grown low and husky.
She crossed her legs and tried to control her labored breathing. Would she ever get over the hots for this man? Even through the phone lines the heat fizzed. She suspected he felt it, too. Yet she was loath to end the conversation.
“It was good to see you, too.” And it had been, though she was loath to admit that, as well.
“I know I shouldn’t say this—”
“You probably shouldn’t,” she responded in a weak voice.
“If you don’t want to hear it, then you’ll have to hang up.”
She stayed on the line.
“I’ve missed you like hell.”
Without You
Mary Lynn
Baxter
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My sincere appreciation to Lance McFaddin for
his assistance with the information on private clubs that I used in this novel.
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