Chapter Seven:
Rudd watched the yellow Malibu roll to a stop in Nick’s drive. He had planned to leave it for a day or two– not wanting to appear too obvious but Inga arrived wearing a tight short dress which barely covered her ass. And she scissored toward the front door on those magnificent legs; legs built like damned bridge abutments. The Adidas trainers were gone, replaced with a pair of four-inch heels. God, he thought– she is a woman to be reckoned with and he decided he had to have a closer look. Rudd checked his watch. It would be another hour before Nick left for work. Plenty of time to shave and shower.
Inga rang the bell.
Nick opened his front door and eyed the audacious masterwork standing on his porch. The sight of her dress spiked his blood, the pressure centering squarely
