Sweet Trouble From Georgia

on a fine scotch as he prepared for his latest adventure. He slept well last nigh

its rotors spinning lazily in the gentle breeze. His personal pilot, a grizzled veteran

liquid burn down his throat. He set the glass on the ne

k nodded at him with a curt smile.

ugh his veins. He loved this part of traveling – the sense o

ger compartment. Jack joined him moments later, settling into th

up to speed. Travis felt a rush of adrenaline as he felt the heli

t and gazed out at the breathtaking view. The sun was dipping

sir?" Jack asked, his

t him with a warm gli

gia,

s J

that

ad he was going home see

He settled back in his seat, letting out a low whoop of excitement

s hair as they soared into the morning sky. He felt a

rang and h

his deep voice dripping w

d replied, "Just wondering if you're

ot today, beautiful

Flora asked with a little

y, you han

ou do not

st another whore that warms his bed, nothing serious

'd slept with over the years. He was a master of sedu

. He was tired of the same old game, tired of the same old faces. Here he looked forwa

n there wa

ed-bricked Southern colonial now rose like something out of a dream-an architectural marvel of glass and steel. Tr

ut of the helicopter, h

-especially stunning at night, when the stars above mirrored the shimmering lights below. The house stood proud on a gentle rise, surrounded by swayi

swayed gently in the breeze and white roses bloomed like tiny ghosts. The air was filled with the scent of

the serenity l

the soil around it-Lu. His little brother with the bright smile and the wild imagination. The one who had slipped beneath the surface while he had loo

gaze heavy, jaw tight. He ran a hand down h

natural light, and soft, minimalist furniture was arranged with precision. Everything in its place. The kitchen, tucked to t

erfection-there was an ache here. A sense of

the glass wall facing the horizon,

s. It wasn't even about reclaiming roots. It was about finding somet

ne buzz

re people want

ow, he si

t stood

the cit

d down to nothing but his tailored evening pants, lounging with a glass of bourbon in han

e glanced at the sc

is voice w

le," came her sultry t

tion. Then she said, "Can we meet tomorrow? I ne

ng as we're talking money, why not

ithout the former, the latter weren't nearly as enchanted by his so-called charms

this buttercup lying naked next to you? Men would kill to get what I'm o

ffering. He'd tasted it before-God, had he. Clarabelle wasn't just sex appeal wrapped in high he

at the thought. S

elmont. You always know where to

orrow, Travis. I'll come down to Georgia. Se

dead before he

tly how to twist his thoughts, pull his

istband of his pants, glancing down at t

together-every gasp, every grip, every whispered curse. She had devoured

across his face. This woman, Clarabelle Belmont, was trouble dressed in perfume and silk.