Chapter 8
The rain stopped and the summer heat began to return before dawn broke. Leslie had turned on a small space heater, and when the first light of day appeared, Max got up from the bed and flipped off its switch.
He looked at the magnificent body of the woman on the bed, a body strong-limbed, healthy, magnetic. Her eyes were closed but she had a faint smile on her face, and he didn't think she was sleeping.
Did he love her? He didn't know. The concept of love now seemed to have no real meaning to Max Flagg. It was too vague, too shopworn, too often and too long abused. It had been used in so many different ways to signify so many different things. Sometimes it referred to pure self-interest of a sensual order. Sometimes it refrerred to a sublimation of the physical impuse, at othe
