I fanned my hot face as I poured Addison his mega-serving of dog food, then brooded on the problem of Kelvin Kapone. He was a man who couldn’t be any of those things on his business cards. I’d seen him get shot, spent the night with him, and I still didn’t know who or what he was. Or what he thought about last night, about me. Did he remember everything that happened last night? To myself, I could claim good copy as my excuse, but he didn't know that. What if he thought I wanted him to maul me in that highly pleasurable way? What if he tried to repeat some of those heart-stopping things in broad daylight? What if he tried to kiss me again?
I discovered I was smiling again and straightened my mouth. It was obvious that thinking wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I opened the refrigerator
