Bridget's arrival was announced by the sharp abrupt click of pricey heels that reverberated throughout the marble foyer.
Standing in the spacious well-lit kitchen still wearing his rumpled dress shirt, Carson poured a second glass of water for himself from the dispenser.
Even before noticing her, he heard the rustle of shopping bags and the door slam.
Balancing four heavy designer shopping bags on one arm, Bridget strolled into the kitchen.
Even though there was no direct sunlight she wore sunglasses on her head and had her hair perfectly coiled.
When she noticed him she stopped.
A broad practiced smile curved her lips.
“Well, look who decided to show up,” she said.
Slowly Carson put down the glass. He had anticipated an outburst of emotion such as a hug, a grievance regardi
