THIRTY-ONE
Phuong stood under the shower spray until her road-dust body paint was nothing more than a small, muddy drift on the floor tiles, headed down the drain. It had taken her most of the complimentary shower gel and soap, but she figured that's what the hotel put them there for. She still wasn't sure she'd managed to shampoo all the sand out of her hair, but maybe she could brush it out when it dried. Reluctantly, she shut off the water and reached for a towel. Even the white flannel was its own brand of bliss – soft and thick, it enveloped her like a lover's arms. The sort who only wanted to cuddle and never, ever demanded s*x like it was his right.
No, don't think about that now, she told herself. Things would be different with Jason.
Phuong looked longingly at the bed, wishing
