She was sitting at the bar, and I could tell she was the kind of woman a married man shouldn’t look at—even once.
But I thought I was safe enough—until the third martini. Then all of a sudden my wife and kids seemed very far away. When I woke up the next morning, I had a large hangover, the scent of the girl’s perfume in my nose, and a murder rap around my neck. And I couldn’t remember anything that had happened … except the girl.
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More books from this author: William Campbell Gault