"We need to talk," Jill whispered as she slid fifty twenty-pound notes, into an envelope, pressed down the seal, and wrote JACK on the front. She laid the package on the breakfast table. Those words sounded alien in her head. If this were one of those romances she used to read, she would make a delicious supper, with excellent wine, and when Jack achieved the right grade of mellow, she would speak — but she knew the words...