He was sure he’d let something slip, if she didn’t pull the psychic curtain closed, and give him some privacy. It was a reasonable request, and it...certainly made sense, but by then Abbey was already getting skittish. Two weeks of increasing blocks from him, of spending large chunks of time not having the first clue what was on his mind, had already put the wheels in her head spinning fast. She hated doubting him, especially when he’d never given her a moment that warranted it. But it was so. My Christmas present to her was a fitting tribute, a book on the Kama Sutra, a bottle of massage oil, and edible panties.“Mark,” she shot me a sly grin, “you shouldn’t have.”“Surprise your husband,” I had replied, “there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”*“Cold?” I looked across.“A little,” she shivered, “let me try this number, the warehouse opens earlier on Friday.”We waited while the phone rang out and with a sigh she tossed it down in disgust.“We ought to find a café somewhere,” I butted. More

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