“Happy to sleep with him, you mean,” Jan said dryly. “I’ll bet it was half the D.C. area. The only women wanting to kill him would be those under the insane misconception he might grow up and consider a serious commitment.”

“Well…” Penelope still wasn’t ready to let it go. “At least no one ever complained he didn’t show a woman a good time. He just couldn’t stick to one woman.”

“Except for Sophie, of course,” Hillary teased.

“Hey. No need to bring me into this discussion.”

“Well, you are the only woman who escaped being ensnared by Jon, that we all know of. Cripes, I’d have settled for being hurt. I never got a chance to make a play.” Penelope sounded increasingly mournful.

“Well, speaking for myself, I’m happier with Caviar. I’ll take my bodies rich and soft. Something to keep you warm at night and make no demands. In fact-”

Penelope suddenly let out a screech worthy of a cat in heat. “Oh! Oh my God, you scared me half to death!”

“I’m sorry.”

The front hall only had space for two bodies at the best of times, and temporarily there were three stuffed in there. Sophie was out of the way, sitting on the carpeted step, but she was just as startled by the sudden sound of a distinctly masculine voice. Sophie twisted, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruder from around Hillary’s elbow…and then froze in shock.

For an instant, she thought the man in the doorway was Jon.

Sophie had long accepted that she was doomed to have more bonkers moments than most, but believing in ghosts was still a stretch.

Yet even after a second glance, she still thought he was Jon.

She yanked off her glasses and squinted seriously now. Jon had unquestionably been a prize-winning scoundrel, but there’d never been any surprise how he attracted women. First off, he stretched to a good six two or three. Add in shoulders made for a tux, posture with a little arrogance and the most compelling blue eyes ever made. Then stir in the tasty stuff.