Aldo Matthews smiled at her from the open bathroom door. That uptilt of his mouth scrambled Elayne"s brains, and she had to look away. When her gaze dipped, she was confronted by something far worse: Aldo"s bare torso.
He wore dark slacks that hugged his thick thighs so indecently that Elayne thought it might be best to call Social Services. The tails of a crisp white dress shirt hung open around the pants, like they were happy to enjoy the show. The curtain was open on the main stage, which was a six—no, make that an eight-pack of toned abdominal muscles. Who had an eight-pack?
Aldo Matthews did, that"s who. Try as she might, Elayne couldn"t wrest her eyes away from the glistening, sculpted indecency of it all. Until she caught sight of that perpetual smirk on his face.
He always wore
