He cleared his throat; it was a masculine, guttural sound. ‘So, Miss Kavanagh,’ he said in his deep tone, ‘Thanks for coming in so early.’‘N... problem, Chris,’ I replied lightly, and at that, he lifted a brow. Clearly in professional lawyer mode, he was not impressed that I thought we were on a first-name basis.This wasn’t the huggable drunk from Abigail’s engagement party anymore.‘I meant, of course Mr. Brimstone,’ I corrected myself. Something about that name felt right on my tongue.‘Well. In all honesty, she had to admit that she might be a bit biased in her opinion of male obsession with breasts because of her personal lack of proper boobs to get men's blood pumping nice and fast and rushing down to their magnificent instruments before entering the fray.When her sister's husband, the butcher, started to handle her buttocks like he was checking them for tenderness and eating quality, her father drew the line and told her that her privates were her own business and not to be. More

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