WESTON

“Are you dodging my calls, handsome?” Natalie’s raspy voice interrupts my lunch. I look up from my phone to see her leaning over my table, her blouse gaping open.

“No, just been busy is all. How’d you know where to find me?”

“Called your secretary. She said you were at your usual and I remember we met here a few times for some postcoital sustenance.” She drags her teeth over her bottom lip as she takes a seat across from me, crossing one leg over the ...