‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. Small, but eminently serviceable. Lucy, would you like to be my date for the silly little dance they call the Junior Prom?\" There was a pregnant pause as she digested the information.
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