Mavis Schuyler took a tentative sip from her coffee. She had
added two ice cubes along with a sneaky, enormous shot of brandy so the resulting mixture was
lukewarm and pleasantly potent. Good. She needed potent. Ron would be home in
an hour or so and after thirty years of marriage, Mavis knew that she was
a much more agreeable wife if she had at least one drink inside of her before
dealing with her husband.
Making a face, Mavis put Ron out of her head. Really, they
should go ahead and get a divorce but she knew he’d never let her go. Not
because Ron was still madly in love with her. Oh, no. Mavis knew that her
husband had never been madly in love with her or anyone else. Ron was in love
with her money, just as she’d been in love with his. There was something to be
said about the cold comfort millions of dollars offered a person on dark and
lonely nights.
The front doorbell rang and Mavis waited for Rosanne to answer
it. Silence. Mavis took another sip of coffee. The doorbell chimed again. No
Rosanne. Where was that woman? Honestly, what were they paying her for if she wasn’t
around to do something as fundamental as answer the front door and then
announce to Mavis who was requesting an audience with her?
The doorbell rang again. “Rosanne!” Mavis shouted and then she
remembered. Rosanne was at the Farmer’s Market buying organically grown veggies
for their dinner. Rosanne was into all that health food nonsense. Mavis personally believed that the more preservatives a food had, the better. If it worked on Twinkies, then wouldn't it make sense that it would work on her too? With an annoyed grunt,
Mavis pulled her thin frame up from the linen covered couch and stomped toward
the hallway.
She pulled open the front door before whoever was on the
other side could press to the bell once again. Mavis still had
the remains of the previous night’s hangover sliding back and forth behind her
eyes and the last thing she needed was to hear the tinny chimes of their
doorbell over and over and over. Pursing her lips tightly, she steeled herself
to snarl at their visitor and send him or her packing.
“Yes?” she snapped but the word seemed to shrivel up on her
tongue like a sun-dried raisin. Standing on the front steps in a dark blue
uniform was the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her entire life. Six feet
or so with broad, broad shoulders, a tapering waist, blond hair and navy blue
eyes, he was positively stunning. “Yes?” Mavis said again only this time her
voice came out as purr instead of a snarl.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Peter Van Husen with the
Schuyler Square P.D.”
“Yes?” Mavis said for the third time in two minutes. He was
probably looking for a donation of some kind. Mavis didn’t really care why he
was there. Looking into Peter Van Husen’s incredible blue eyes was the best
thing that had happened to her all day long.
“Are you Mavis Schuyler?”
“Yes, I am.” Mavis wished desperately that she was wearing
something sexier than leggings and a silk tunic. Then again, leggings made
her thighs look smaller and the soft rose tunic was extremely
flattering. “Is there something I can do
for you, officer?” Mavis could think of at least a hundred things she’d like to
do for this gorgeous man.
Peter Van Husen cleared his throat. His eyes met hers and
held them for one long, intense moment. “I have a proposition for you, Mrs.
Schuyler.”
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