Without You. Mary Baxter Lynn
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“Why are you calling me at home, Jackson?”
“I take it that’s a no-no.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
He hesitated several beats, then said, “Okay, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t remember if I thanked you for taking my case.”
“I haven’t taken your case exactly, but yes, you thanked me.”
Silence.
“It was good to see you, Hallie, after all this time.” His voice had grown low and husky.
She crossed her legs and tried to control her labored breathing. Would she ever get over the hots for this man? Even through the phone lines the heat fizzed. She suspected he felt it, too. Yet she was loath to end the conversation.
“It was good to see you, too.” And it had been, though she was loath to admit that, as well.
“I know I shouldn’t say this—”
“You probably shouldn’t,” she responded in a weak voice.
“If you don’t want to hear it, then you’ll have to hang up.”
She stayed on the line.
“I’ve missed you like hell.”
Without You
Mary Lynn
Baxter
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My sincere appreciation to Lance McFaddin for
his assistance with the information on private clubs that I used in this novel.
Contents
Prologue
The wheels on the cleaning carts squeaked as they lumbered along the otherwise silent hallway. Once the carts touched noses, the two housekeepers grinned at each other.
“How many more rooms you got to clean today?” Myrtle Tittle, short and plump, reached up and straightened her askew blond wig.
Clara Means, equally plump but taller in stature to Myrtle, pursed her thin lips, deepening the Howdy Doody lines around her mouth. “A lot. How ’bout you?”
“I’m in the same boat.”
“Me and my old man are supposed to go dancing tonight,” Clara said, “but it don’t look like that’s gonna happen. After today, I’ll be ready to drop. I’d sure like to know where all these folks come from.”
Myrtle scratched under the wig. “Me, too. This hotel ain’t ever been this crowded. Something going on we don’t know about?”
“Probably something