The Texan's Business Proposition. Peggy Moreland

slurred speech let her know the shot was still working.

      “Yes, home.” She took his arm and gave it a tug. “Come on. I’ll help you inside.”

      It seemed to take him forever to unfold his long legs from the interior of her compact car. Her one regret was that he was too sedated to be aware of his surroundings. He’d really hate knowing he’d ridden in a six-year-old economy car, when he was accustomed to tooling around in a sporty and luxurious Lexus SC.

      Pleased that she’d reduced her boss to slumming, she helped him to his feet. When he staggered a step, she quickly moved beneath his arm and locked an arm around his waist.

      “Don’t you dare fall,” she warned. “If you do, I’m leaving you where you land.”

      He looked down at her, his mouth slanted in a lopsided grin. “Ah, come on, Sal. You wouldn’t leave me out here all by myself.”

      “Don’t bet on it,” she muttered. Taking a firmer grip on his waist, she urged him into motion. “Now walk.”

      She halted him at the door, pressed her thumb against the security monitor, marveling anew at the high-tech system, while waiting for it to recognize her print. When the green light beamed, she shoved open the door and maneuvered him over the threshold.

      He veered in the direction of his home office.

      “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, and bulldozed him down the long hall that led to the master bedroom. Once inside, she pointed him toward the king size bed and gave him a shove. He fell like a ton of bricks across its top. She quickly flipped back the covers, pulled off his shoes and socks. She frowned at his shirt and slacks, thinking he’d rest more comfortably without them.

      “So, suffer,” she grumbled. Cupping her hands at his heels, she lifted his legs and swung them onto the bed. Winded by the effort, she gave herself a moment to catch her breath, then reached to pull the covers over him.

      She started to turn away, then stopped and leaned to place her face within inches of his. “Sleep well, Vince,” she whispered evilly. “When you wake up, you’re going to find yourself in hell.”