16
When a slate blue Porsche Boxster Spyder pulled silently into the visitor slot at Loven's Bakeries, Leah discovered two crucial new things about herself: she liked expensive cars more than she ever thought she would and there was apparently more than one type of man that appealed to her. The hunk of masculinity that stepped out of the gleaming example of exceptional engineering was far from the neat, trim and intellectual man she had always preferred. He was dressed to kill, literally, with a nine-millimeter Glock in a holster on his hip, his clothing all in khaki and black, including multi-pocketed cargo pants, a tactical vest and tight T-shirt that stretched temptingly over broad, well-muscled pecs. His jet-black hair was slick-backed. Beneath his generous mustache were full lips set
