That night Lydia awoke abruptly from the blackest of sound sleeps to the reassurance of Phil lying beside her. She experienced no gradual acceleration of color, from dead to dawn. In one instant--and for how long?--she had lain as a corpse; in the next she was awake, angry, and horny.

Odd that Phil was not snoring. He felt, in fact, quite rigid, and beads of sweat had burst from pores all over his body. And he was so hot, even with the motel's A/C at full blast to counter the summer Texas heat. The heat drew her to him. Her body against his, she felt his chest jerk once, a spasm to draw in air. Then he held his breath.