Useless mongrel, Christopher said, bending to pet him. You smell like the floor of an East End tavern. The dog pushed back against his palm demandingly. Christopher lowered to his haunches and regarded him ruefully. What would you say if you could talk? he asked. I suppose it’s better that you don’t. That’s the point of having a dog. No conversation. Just admiring gazes and endless panting. Someone spoke from the threshold behind him, startling him. I hope that’s not what you’ll expect … Reacting with explosive instinct, Christopher turned and fastened his hand around a soft throat. … from a wife, Beatrix finished unsteadily. ― Lisa Kleypas, Love In The Afternoon

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Useless mongrel, Christopher said, bending to pet him. You smell like the floor of an East End tavern. The dog pushed back against his palm demandingly. Christopher lowered to his haunches and regarded him ruefully. What would you say if you could talk? he asked. I suppose it’s better that you don’t. That’s the point of having a dog. No conversation. Just admiring gazes and endless panting. Someone spoke from the threshold behind him, startling him. I hope that’s not what you’ll expect … Reacting with explosive instinct, Christopher turned and fastened his hand around a soft throat. … from a wife, Beatrix finished unsteadily. ― Lisa Kleypas, Love In The Afternoon
Useless mongrel, Christopher said, bending to pet him. You smell like the floor of an East End tavern. The dog pushed back against his palm demandingly. Christopher lowered to his haunches and regarded him ruefully. What would you say if you could talk? he asked. I suppose it’s better that you don’t. That’s the point of having a dog. No conversation. Just admiring gazes and endless panting. Someone spoke from the threshold behind him, startling him. I hope that’s not what you’ll expect … Reacting with explosive instinct, Christopher turned and fastened his hand around a soft throat. … from a wife, Beatrix finished unsteadily. ― Lisa Kleypas, Love In The Afternoon

Useless mongrel, Christopher said, bending to pet him. You smell like the floor of an East End tavern. The dog pushed back against his palm demandingly. Christopher lowered to his haunches and regarded him ruefully. What would you say if you could talk? he asked. I suppose it’s better that you don’t. That’s the point of having a dog. No conversation. Just admiring gazes and endless panting. Someone spoke from the threshold behind him, startling him. I hope that’s not what you’ll expect … Reacting with explosive instinct, Christopher turned and fastened his hand around a soft throat. … from a wife, Beatrix finished unsteadily.
― Lisa Kleypas,

Love In The Afternoon

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