Beverly Morgan thought she was a nice, old-fashioned girl, and she was, in a couple of ways. She wanted a man, just one, to help fill up her days and nights, but Beverly wasn’t about to go out chasing him, whoever he would turn out to be. Nope, she was too nice, too old-fashioned, too downright feminine to do that.
But she wasn’t too old-fashioned to know the tension going up her spine was frustration, or to know that the tension would give her one hell of a nasty headache, the kind of headache no aspirin would dissolve. It was a frustration headache and the tension came from that hungry spot at the floor of her pelvis.
