Chapter Nine
Satisfaction did not bring the degree of sanity that she’d hoped it might. Bathed and wrapped in a short aqua silk robe, she sat at the kitchen table turning over one of the five complimentary copies of Discovering in her hands. Beside her was a box of heavy lavender stationary with her name and address embossed at the top. She rarely had occasion to use it in the age of email, but still loved the texture of the paper and the feel of writing by hand.
She knew that what she was about to do was irrational, that she couldn’t begin to conceive of the possible ways in which it could disrupt her life, and his, and those of others she didn’t even know existed. He might be married. He might have children.
He might ignore her, too, she reminded herself. If he had other commitments,
