As evening fell, the city lights trickled into the car like a flowing stream, bathing the interior in a hazy, dim light.
Joyce Monroe leaned against the seatback with her eyes closed, seemingly having drunk herself to sleep. They hit traffic, and Quentin Walsh suddenly slammed on the brakes. Inertia threw Joyce forward, and Silas Thorne instinctively reached out, his hand shielding her forehead.
"Sir, my apologies," Quentin Walsh said hurriedly.
Silas Thorne frowned but said nothing.
But the sudden stop seemed to have woken Joyce Monroe. As she settled back into her seat, she tilted her head to look at Silas Thorne.
He was in formal wear today but hadn't bothered with a tie. His collar was slightly open, giving a clear view of his Adam's apple...
"Awake?" As he spoke, Joyce saw his prominent Adam's apple bob slightly. For some reason, she found the sight strangely alluring.
She had always felt...
'This part of a man is kind of sexy.'
