he met?
“For God’s sake, Rod,” Claire barked, slamming him back to earth. “When are you going to get this driveway properly paved?”
He shrugged, thinking that Claire probably wouldn’t be amused to know the thought of having made love to her—willingly—now vaguely repulsed him. “I like the sound of gravel crunching underfoot,” he said mildly, slipping one hand into his pocket. “Reminds me of my grandparents’ driveway, when I was a kid.”
Before Claire could comment, Rod changed the subject. “Any trouble getting them out early?”
“What?” She navigated the granite stairs, careful not to touch the carved stone railing which would hardly be clean, now would it? At the top, she extracted a silver cigarette case from her leather purse. “Oh. No, none. They weren’t doing anything important, anyway.”
“I see. I’m hocking my soul to send them to one of the best private schools in the country, and you’re telling me they’re not doing anything important?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Rod—you know what I mean.” She clicked open the case; he took it from her, shut it, slipped it back into her purse.
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