Andy rushes into the lounge area of the Crown & Bull where he’s meeting Bernie. Taking a seat where he can observe the entrance, he orders a scotch on the rocks and sits back to wait a bit. Just then, a strikingly gorgeous woman walks through the revolving doors. This is the kind of woman who drives a man to drink, he thinks sardonically.
It takes him a moment to realize she’s coming toward him. Man, she’s gorgeous; beautiful is too mediocre a word to describe her. She has a body that makes a man twitch just watching her, and he has the itch. He’s so busy trying to conceal the evidence of her effect on his body, he is taken by surprised when she addresses him.
“Mr. Redfield? I’m Bernie Harp.”
The voice is a husky contralto that makes the blood vacate Andy’s brain and rush to his masculine parts. He has to take a deep breath to slow down his heart rate. His powerful physical response to the woman irritates him. God damn it, he was expecting a man. James never told him the investigator was a woman. He’d foolishly assumed, with a name like Bernie, it had to be a man. —–, he needs a moment to get himself together. So, instead of responding immediately, he sips his drink that the waiter had put in front of him a few moments earlier. Without saying a word, he lets the mellow taste of the liquor course its way through him like a kiss from the lips of a sensuous woman—like the one standing in front of him now, with her hand extended. Only after the taste on his tongue has dissipated to a shimmering echo of heat does he look up. Why, he asks himself, would a woman who looks like this, be named Bernie?
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