For a good time call... That's what the number on the wall said. Why did I dial it? I blame two things—the cheap raspberry cocktails at the hotel bar... And the fact I'd signed my divorce papers an hour ago. When he answered the phone, his voice was like silky caramel. Then he showed up at my hotel room. All muscle. All filth. And I knew I was done for. But every good time has a price. It's too bad I didn't know the cost of this one.