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"What then?" Comer asked.
Beckett cocked his head as if this were the oddest question in the world. "Why," he said, "the women, of course."
Edgar's life in Atlanta had started innocently enough. He was expected to engage the women of the city as well as the men. It was part of his job as a golf ambassador and representative of Druid Hills. He had always been friendly with both genders and never saw harm in it. But with his wife and children an ocean away, it didn't take long for him to succumb to the excitement of female companionship in a foreign country.
Edgar did his best to keep his indiscretions quiet—there was the honor of the ladies to be considered, after all—but like many straying men before and since, his cloak of invisibility soon failed and he found himself in over his head. The affection that pushed him to the brink was for a stunning dark-haired beauty, young and exotic, with a demure voice and skin like porcelain. He wasn't sure what he felt about her, but the chemistry was unmistakable. She was exciting and dangerous, and he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was also married. J. Douglas Edgar never knew what hit him.
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