Tark tries to say that I stared at Nadia Mirin like a slack-jawed fool for a full fifteen seconds before I stammered out a greeting and offered her my hand. That isn't quite true, but not because she wasn’t worthy of that much ogling. Tall as women go, but just slightly smaller than me, her slender figure packed more curves than a box full of snakes. Her eyes had just a touch of almond-shape, hinting at some oriental branches in her family tree, but their green color was pure Irish fire. Her full lips begged to be kissed, as did her pert nose and the rest of her gorgeous face.