She really wanted to swear off booze for life, but deep down, Dorothy knew that was a no-go. In her line of work, where deals were sealed with a toast rather than a handshake, going teetotal was career suicide.

Rubbing her eyes, Dorothy slowly came to the realization that she wasn't in Karen's apartment at all! It took a few seconds of squinting through the dim light, filtered by heavy drapes, to realize that the room was oddly familiar, yet she couldn't recall ever staying there.

Sitting up in a daze, she suddenly sprang to her feet—only to find her legs jelly-soft and unable to support her.

Thud.

Dorothy hit the carpet with a graceless flop.

As an adult with, ahem, certain experiences, she was utterly aware of what had transpired the night before. The aching back, the sore legs, and that burning sting somewhere more intimate—if she didn't know any better, she'd be a fool.

Her face drained of color in an instant. The thought was too much to bear.

Thankfully, the sound of her collapse had quickly brought Everett striding into the room through the ajar door.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

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are Abigail and Langston?" "They're in class, should be done in twenty minutes,” Everett glanced at the time. "You want to

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