A single boot dangled loosely from his hand, and once in front of Rachel he raised it high above the table top and let go. It struck the beautifully polished oak with a resounding thunk, sending a puff of dust into the filtered air of the boardroom and scattering a residue of dried mud and gravel across the table. "Yours, I believe, Ms. Jennings-Porter," he said, charmingly straight-faced.
-Cheryl Cooke Harrington
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