CHAPTER 49

Kayla's parents lived on a hilly residential street shaded by mature trees and lined with older homes. Morning glory and clematis vines were clinging to the mailboxes, and an empty white lattice planter on the front porches was just ready to be filled with vibrant flowers.

The botch house sat at the top of a sheep slope overlayed with ivy and rhododendrons. It was a sophisticated two-story cream stucco transcended by a roof of curving pale green Spanish tiles, with the shutters and trim painted the same light green. Peter pulled the white Rolls Royce under the Porte Cochere off the side, then came around the front to open the door for Kayla.

For a moment, his eyes lingered on her long, straight legs. He hadn't had the time to comment on her soft, taffy-colored skirt and grey sweater combo, even though she'd rolled the skirt twice at the waistband so that a good three inches of thigh showed through her pale skin-toned hose.

She thought he hadn't noticed and figured her beautiful thigh
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