He lit the cheroot as he left the Federal Building and turned toward Cherry Creek. It was true, he reflected—he was more interested in helping Julie get over her loss than he was in bedding her. “Maybe you’re getting soft, old son,” he muttered to himself.
And yet … sooner or later, Julie would be over Janice’s death, and when that day came, she was liable to be mighty grateful to the fella who had helped her over the rough Spots.
A grin began to spread over Longarm’s face and his step grew a little jauntier as he walked toward home.
Вы читаете Longarm and the Racy Ladies
