Closing her eyes and leaning back in the chair, she tried to focus on what to do next. She needed a plan. She tried to forget how good he smelled, or how something in her chest had twisted when his molten silver eyes met hers. She tried to forget how the cool metal of his cane handle felt against her throat. She tried to forget that his lower lip was fuller than his upper lip. She wondered if he would taste like sin, because that’s what he looked like.