The bus stopped next door. Less than five minutes later a duskily beautiful teenaged girl unlocked the door, reset the codes and squeaked when she saw...me a sitting in the dining room.“Who are you?”“I might ask the same,” I said.“Sally de la Natividad Valero y Asensio. And you?”Her English was not a second language ... her Spanish was. She spoke politely ... probably her mother’s influence ... but she was an American teenager through and through.“Karen Post. I own the place.”“Heck ... there goes. ‘I didn’t mean to knock you over.’ ‘That’s…that’s all right,’ Sheila said, her face reddening. Lou’s hands were still around her waist. Now that he had hold of her, he didn’t want to let go. ‘No…no problem,’ he stammered. His throat was tight, his pulse racing, and things were happening in his groin. He stared at her. ‘Sheila…you…you are so lovely,’ he said softly, then he bent and covered her lips with his. At first Sheila stiffened and didn’t respond. Her hands pressed weakly against his. More

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