Chapter Sixteen
Madison was tired. She was tired of the firm hotel mattress. She was tired of the continental breakfast. She was tired of the tiny soaps and shampoos.
She wanted to walk out the door to her own yard. She wanted to drown in shampoo. She wanted to sleep on memory foam that only knew her body. She wanted to be held by the tall, broad form of the man in her dreams.
Except she was awake. She was awake, but she clearly saw the form of the man she wanted her mattress to remember in her mind’s eye.
She punched at her pillows. Unfortunately, that move did nothing to make her more comfortable. Nor did it shake the vision of Paul Hanson from her head.
What would make her feel better was to get a scalpel in her hand and slip into an OR. There were other patient charts piling up on
