CHAPTER TWO
Paul Grant managed not to wince when the waiter brought the bill for dinner. Wearing his best poker face, he counted out the money and mentally computed how little was left in his wallet. Then he looked at the girl across the table from him and told himself it was worth it.
"Now what?" she asked.
Paul let his eyes meet her striking blue ones. Then he surveyed the classically fine beauty of her face-slender, fine-boned. Her mouth was a trace too thin and wide, and her chin a fraction too bold and sharp for absolute perfection. Then he let his gaze slip downward, past the black velvet dog collar and sparkling medallion of rhinestones to the dramatic V of her neckline. It ended far below her breasts, exposing their soft, rounded inner slopes.
He continued the downward sweep of
