The Heiress

by Rachel Hawkins

For now, let me leave us here in the dim light of my father’s office, the low murmur of voices and muffled music from the band downstairs the soundtrack to a kiss that would change my life and end his.

A haunted house where the ghosts hadn’t had the courtesy to die yet. I clench my teeth.

Knowing what’s inside my head right now. And the thing is? I think she’d be proud of me.

I dreaded his hands even as I craved his touch, and it nearly tore me apart, those wildly disparate feelings. A terrible thing, wanting someone and hating them all at the same time. Is it any wonder, pulled taut as I was, that I finally snapped?

“Head’s killing me,” he muttered, turning away. Terrible last words.

I had gotten away with murder, and I was glad for it. Is that enough truth for you, my dear?

Comfy chair, gorgeous views, excellent coffee, and two orgasms before 8:00 A.M. What more did a girl need?

if a prune could talk, it would probably look like her.

It’s good to have you back in town, he’d said, his voice low and serious. But if I were you, I’d sleep with one eye open in that goddamn house.

You can see how it didn’t take long for my mind to begin to drift to thoughts of ridding myself of him.

It seems to me that it should not be that hard to be both good in bed and a good man, and yet the vast majority of men never cease to amaze me in their refusal to master this particular skill set.

I left it to fate. And fate, once again, was on my side.

“I could paint your mouth from memory alone.”