His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. She could tell it was new territory for him and he might lose the nerve to take them off himself, without the aid of drink. ” “Okay.
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