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SHE MAY LOOK LIKE AN ANGEL. . .
but she's a tramp.
That was when I hit him, my best friend. I thought
of Laura and our three-day honeymoon. I thought of the sting of her full
lips, the long, lush lines of her warm, wonderful body, her throaty, delighted
laugh. And I thought of all the nights we were going to spend together.
Paul had stumbled to his feet, and there was blood
on his mouth.
"You need a keeper," he said heavily
and contemptuously, "to save you from yourselfand her."
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