She took the turn, keeping one hand on the steering wheel and the other firmly on the phone. Clarice kept her silence, trying to keep her wits about her. She did not want to get distracted or too caught up in talking, as much as she did want to talk to him. And shapely feet? Her stomach did a funny flip at those words. Now she was certain he had been in her house, and the thought that things seemed to be rearranged was not just her imagination. She pictured him watching her sleep - who knows for how long? He could have been mere minutes or hours, listening to her steady breathing, perhaps even sitting down to sketch her.
He really was something else. Focus, Clarice, she thought, still listening for more directions.