LAUREL WISHED SHE HAD A PENLIGHT. AND A TOOTHBRUSH. FUMBLING around
in the dark the morning after never got any easier, she decided. At least she’d found her bra
and one shoe. She let out a grunt of satisfaction when her seeking fingers hooked on the elastic
of her panties.
A shirt, a shoe, and her pants to go, she thought, and her purse was downstairs where she’d
dumped it. There she’d find mints and cab fare.
She’d have killed for coffee. She’d have maimed for even the scent of coffee.
On her hands and knees she continued to search the floor, then awarded herself a mental aha
when she came across the other shoe.
“What are you doing down there?”
“Sorry.” She sat back on her heels. “I’m looking for the rest of my clothes. I told you I had
to get up early