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BOOK 7

Sunlight washed the screened-in porch with hazy, luminous light. Dust motes clung to the air, drifting with the rose-scented breeze that brushed Rachel’s face like a soothing whisper. Stretched out on her rattan sofa, heat prickled through her jeans, warming her skin and numbing her body. Her eyelids drooped closed as she slipped closer to sleep.

The couch’s green and yellow stripes had long since faded, but the cushions were still plump, cradling her in a cocoon of softness. She turned her face into the sun and breathed in the scents of budding trees, fresh-cut grass and the crisp smell of morning burning into afternoon.

She shouldn’t be wasting time lounging when she had so much to do. If she started dressing now, she’d just make it in time for Senator Hastings’ fundraiser. But her life allowed so few quiet moments, she hated to give this one up.

A shift in the cushions and the telltale sound of purring caused her to open her eyes. Miss Bastet pawed the couch. With her round, golden
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