Chapter Eleven
Dana was glad for the blooming things around her. All traces of winter had been swept away, no snow, no cold, just the beginnings of those endless days leading into summer. Ones with the fragrance of rupturing buds, breaking open to shower the air with a feast of heaven's rain. Her last work on Ariel Broussard's book was two weeks past. With the last of it, she'd purged her house of every photograph, stray or beloved that had attached itself like flypaper to her desks and tables. The day after she'd delivered the entire manuscript to Gordon, the sun had come out shining like it had been reborn. Bathing her townhouse with an incredibly brilliant glow, she felt washed clean of cobwebs and ghosts. According to plan, Lucien's influence on her was fading. Only in the loneliest p
