CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

JEAN WAS STUNNED at the reaction she had had seeing Mary Jo up close. The woman was stunningly beautiful. And her dark brown eyes were something Jean knew she could stare into for a very long time.

Mary Jo seemed to be shorter than Jean, if that was possible, and, of course, in perfect shape. And Mary Jo had what looked to be perfect, smooth skin.

The reaction to Mary Jo had been unexpected and had actually caught Jean by surprise, something that was difficult to do in general.

She walked slowly along the sidewalk toward her own home. All she could think about was seeing Mary Jo without clothes on, sliding into Jean’s hot tub on her back deck.

The idea of that just made Jean short of breath.

She pretended to sob slightly for the bug on her collar, but the sob was more of a shudder of anticipation.

She had met very, very few other assassins over the years. And her last real relationship (not counting the fake marriages to the likes of poor old Sam) had been almost a hundred years earlier. She had fallen completely in love with a woman named Sarah and the two of them had traveled the world as traveling companions. Sarah had died of consumption after fifteen years together.

A wonderful fifteen years.

And never since that point had Jean felt an attraction toward another person like she had felt this evening for Mary Jo.

This could be a problem, of that there was no doubt. There were no rules in the order forbidding a relationship between two assassins, and Jean actually had no idea if Mary Jo would even be attracted to her.

But for the moment, they were both stuck three houses apart in the same neighborhood in the same small New York town, playing the same grieving widow part.

So it would be interesting.

Jean reached her front door and tried to shake the image of a naked Mary Jo from her mind.

That was a hard image to clear.