CHAPTER THREE

Palm leaves sparkle in the breeze and my shutters are flung open. The air smells hot. Fragrant flowers bloom wide, declaring their place.

My plan? Get lost on cobblestones and narrow stairs that lead to the hidden courtyard entrance of my destiny, where cold wine and salt skin are welcome companions.

For all the wishful packing, it's the workhorses I needed here, the ones who survive the heat and feel appropriately elsewhere. Slits are high and necklines plunge. Naked, nearly naked, you make the call.