Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Sunset in Esperanza
Darkly handsome with an almost comically swaggering manner, he sidled up to me.
“I make you martini to die for,” he drooled.
Snaps to Patty for telling him which butt to smooch first.
I gazed into his almond-shaped eyes and, instead of bawling him out, mumbled,
“Great.”
And the martini was sensational.
☼ ☼ ☼
The party gave every sign of being a rip-roaring success.
Marcus was moving guests through the bar area with admirable efficiency, very few
people seemed to be pigging out on the food, and I was allowing myself to exhale for the
first time in twenty-four hours.
Meanwhile, Michael had apparently decided to give tours of the house. All well and
good, but from the few snippets of conversation I was able to catch as he shepherded his
tour groups past, it sounded suspiciously like he was taking credit for lots of my ideas.
“Thanks, I do think a striped throw pillow here and there livens things up.”
This from a man who normally considers throw pillows the home accessory equivalent
of Satan worship.
Search WWH ::
Custom Search