He walked to the fridge in her kitchenette, freshly bathed, a towel wrapped around his waist, his bare feet padding across the tiles, the Y incision scar that cut up between his abs and slashed across his chest blossoming a raw pink from the heat of the shower.
“I wish you would come and stay with me. After what’s happened, it worries me that you’re here alone, walking the lanes by yourself when this monster is about.”
“Please. I’m from Manhattan. Muggings come with the territory. Besides, I’m fine.”
He looked at her, horrified. “Rachel, this is Montreux, not New York.”
She shrugged as she dried her hair with a towel.
He poured two glasses of wine and came to sit beside her on the bed. “Please consider my request.” They both took sips of sauvignon. “What about all your work? Your book
