In that respect, he reminded her of Tim in a more mature way, of her husband's forceful and pervasive huskiness, and an odd sort of tingling of animal attraction had hit her in the pit of the stomach when she'd been interviewed for the job ten days ago. Even now, standing as they were in the lobby of his theater in a very respectable manner, she found herself studying him with a detached interest, not as a potential sex mate – heaven forbid the idea – but just as a very attractive and stimulating male.

Amos' wife, Syble Andersson, came from behind the candy stand where she'd been counting change and joined Melanie and her husband. She had a throaty, purring voice that the young wife had always associated with torch singers, like Peggy Lee, and she thought the woman to be very attractive in that same sensual way.

"So good of you to come on my last night," Syble cooed in a light-hearted manner. "I can't say I'll miss the job, not after all the years I've spent standing behind there!"

"Well, I'm hoping I can do half the job you've done, Mrs. Andersson," Melanie answered diplomatically. "I'll certainly try."

"And you will, I'm sure you will," Syble laughed encouragingly. She had a rather narrow face, a straight nose with a little flare at the nostrils, a generous red mouth, long black lashes, and neatly plucked eyebrows. Her hair was sleek and black and glossy, gathering fully around her shoulders and down over her ripely rounded breasts. She was wearing a pale blue dress with a white starched collar peeking over the severe neckline. But she could have been wearing a steel diving suit, and it still wouldn't have held back the innate sexuality that exuded like perfume from this provocative woman. Syble was, Melanie thought, the perfect mate for such a virile man as Amos Andersson.

"Melanie!" Tim called out gruffly. "C'mon."