|
|
|
|
|
|
|
out of the trees and made a dash for the stairs at the end of the balcony. With his hands cupped protectively over his genitals, he took the steps two at a time, ran to the door to his room and twisted the knob. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The towel was still where he'd left it so he grabbed it and held it over his groin with one hand while rapping softly on the door with the other. He waited a moment, then rapped again. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The curtain over the window beside the door moved and a second later the door opened. Kyna stood in the opening wearing nothing but a pair of panties, a million goose bumps and an amused expression. She took a long look at her lovernude, grass and leaves in his hairand said, "I can't wait to hear this." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Cyrus stepped out of the shower, toweled off and put on a pair of cord jeans, a cashmere sweater and his new running shoes. He wadded up the clothing he had taken from Dessotti's penthouse, then ran as fast as he could downstairs and shoved the bundle all the way to the bottom of the Dumpster in the parking lot. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It was a perfect example of the type of dreary Northern California morning that had earned for the inhabitants of the area the adjective "rugged." The sun was up theresomewherebut the only way anyone could tell for sure was by double-checking the clock. Rain was coming down in glassy sheets from layers of thick, low-hanging clouds while pedestrians scurried about stopped over like Quasimodo as the wind off the ocean burned their faces raw. The thermometer on the wall of the motel office made a valiant effort to climb out of the miserable range but failed to reach thirty-six degrees. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Dress warmly," Cyrus said when he returned to the room. "Somebody forgot to tell these people about the greenhouse effect." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Doesn't seem to bother you." |
|
|
|
|
|