He was so horny that he could probably make love to a tree. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. The envelope might contain only a request as to what he wanted done with the manuscripts. “My name is Anna Pellissier, sometimes called Annabel. Melusine saw fire in his eyes and a streak of heat rushed through her to match it. “I’m sorry. That's the job. We find out no man will treat a woman fairly as man to man—no man. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone.
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