![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() He was enough to give any woman a hormonal surge. His skin was glowing, and his thick dark hair smelled like Herbal Essence. At least he’d remembered to eat.īill, not a jeans-and-tee kind of guy, was wearing khakis and a plaid shirt in muted blue and green. An empty bottle of type O TrueBlood was on the desk beside the keyboard. “Hello, sweetheart,” he said absently, his gaze riveted to the screen. Now it was the keyboard that attracted him. He’d torn himself away from his work when I came home, until the past couple of weeks. This was an all-too-familiar scenario in the past month or two. Club Dead copyright 2003 by Charlaine Harrisīill was hunched over the computer when I let myself in his house. ![]()
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