Picking up a fresh glass she went to fetch the bottle. “You can just bring the bottle Miss. This glass will be fine.” He spoke low, a baritone voi...e, smooth as the bourbon itself. She could see a glint in his eye. She hated arrogant men. Daphne hadn’t noticed that she had undone the third button on her shirt while fetching the bottle from the rack. The stranger’s keen eye noticed it, as she brought the bourbon. She placed the bottle down and the stranger grasped her hand, slowly bringing it to. “I’m going to need your help now,” he said, “I’m going to lift your legs from the stirrups, when I do, I want you to scoot back, so that your head is near the end of the table.” He grasped her ankles, and lifting, Susan used her hands and arms at her sides to lift her upper body and move. Once she’d shifted her position, Peter lowered her legs, the edge of the table now met at the backs of her knees, and as he lowered her legs, they dangled over the edge of the foot end of the table. She. More

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