to Georgia, too, you know.â
âYeah, but I donât want Jonas thinking that Iâm finished with my vacation so he can put me back to work.â
âIssues.â Sterling buried his face into his paperwork once again. âI may be moving back to my Atlanta office myself. I need a slower pace for a while.â
âFine. I guess Iâll have to come visit both of you.â
Quentin finished pouring his drink and then settled back in his seat. âI am going to work one of these daysâ¦as soon as I settle on the career Iâd like to pursue. You always said that I should pursue something I enjoy.â
âYou mean now that your days of being a gigolo are over?â
âI prefer the term connoisseur of women, â he said, smiling and then glancing out of the window. âIt takes a special kind of man to really appreciate womenâthe incredible artistry God creates in the curve of a womanâs hip, the size, weight and warmth of a good, firm breast. And their scentâ¦â He swirled the amber liquid in his glass and remained thoughtful. âDid you know that every woman has their own unique scent?â
Sterling glanced up from his papers.
âItâs true,â Quentin insisted. âItâs faint, buried beneath their perfume, soft baby powder and fruity lotions. But itâs there and itâs intoxicatingâevery one of them.â
âWell, Iâll be damn,â Sterling sighed. âYouâre a poet.â
âConnoisseur,â Quentin repeated. âAnd damn proud of it.
âI donât know how Iâm going to survive this arrangement. Monogamy is not in my DNA.â
Minutes later, the limo turned onto the Hinton estate. A sea of lush green grass surrounded the long spiraling driveway. Quentin caught sight of two women out by the stables. Though he couldnât identify who they were, his interest was piqued at the sight of thick ebony hair billowing in the wind. He hit a button on the door and his window slid down in time for him to hear the sound of womenâs laughter floating on the air.
Maybe this trip wonât be so dull after all.
Antonio rolled the limo to a stop and a second later, Quentin and Sterling rustled through the main houseâs eight-foot mahogany doors and into the grand foyer with its classic black-and-white marble and four angled 12-foot-tall archways.
âHello, is anybody here?â Quentin called out.
Beatrice appeared at the top of the second-floor banister with a stack of neatly folded towels in her arms. âMr. Quentin, Mr. Sterling, youâre home.â
Quentin raced up the curved staircase and wrapped his arms around the white-haired maid. âBeatrice, my love, Iâve finally come back to make an honest woman out of you.â He planted a big, sloppy kiss against her fleshy cheek.
Beatriceâs full figure quaked in his arms as she laughed at his shenanigans. âBoy, unhand me before you tempt me to really make a man out of you.â
âYou. Me. My bedroom at midnight. Iâll provide the wine and you bring the baby oil.â
She gasped. Her smooth cocoa-brown complexion flushed a deep, dark burgundy. âI, um, oh, I, umâget on now.â She smacked him on the arm. âJust the devil, I swear.â
Sterling just shook his head at their outrageous flirting.
Quentin laughed and released her, but when she turned and walked away, he gave her one last surprise and pinched her.
She jumped three feet and rewarded him with another smack. âGo on now before I put you over my knee.â
âPromise?â
âOh, youâre impossible,â she spat and stomped off.
Sterling climbed the stairs. âWhy do you do that?â he asked, shaking his head in disapproval. âWhat if she files a sexual harassment suit?â
âRelax.â Q laughed. âBeatrice knows Iâm only teasing.â He slapped his brother on the back
Learning to Kill: Stories