Chapter 2
Benedict
For a moment I stand, blinking at my backyard. Then I pivot and follow the banshee. The brunette is completely naked, and waving a white flag over her head. Not a flag, actually, some sort of garment—a bathrobe. My impromptu guest dashes to and fro, using the robe to try to catch the parrot.
I should help her, but I can only stare. The woman is pale and curvy, of middling height. If she would stand still a moment, her head would barely come up to my chin.
Her damp hair flies around her face, strands catching on her flushed cheeks, but doing nothing to obscure her body. Her breasts bounce as she races around the room. Beautiful, bountiful breasts, perfect enough to give Botticelli heart palpitations and make him reach for his paints.
She looks vaguely familiar.
Mid-
