A light was on and a package of cold-cuts, mustard and bread were on the table, but no Jace."Ohhhhhh," a feminine moan came from the den. "Ahhhhhh. Th...t's it. Yessssss."A trembly sensation raced up and down her spine. Phil and Melinda? She smiled, feeling like a schoolgirl again, spying on couples parked on Lovers Lane. However, these weren't two strangers. It was her brother and his wife. She stepped toward the door to the den, then stopped. She shook her head. She wasn't a Peeping Tom. Even a. To her, that was a fundamental difference between the rich white folk and the poor colored folk… simple expectations. What does he do for a living, anyway? she wondered. What am she getting herself into, this strange man with an odd manner about him, talking in such a way to her She wondered if he was a gangster… a bootlegger. For some reason, that possibility uneasily excited her… the attraction of good girls for bad boys. ‘What’s her address?’ That’s was a good question, it wasn’t like there. More

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