“No one will know your luscious golden tan
came from a bottle,” Gemma vowed as she followed Hero into the
bathroom. “You’ll dazzle every man there; just you wait and see.
They’ll all be eating out of your hand by the time the first few
weeks are up.”
Hero rolled her eyes. “For the last time,
I’m not doing this to find a man! I’m simply trying to save my
job.”
“So you say.”
“That’s all. It’s just an article. Nothing
more.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Romance is definitely out of the
question.”
“Mmm.”
“I certainly would
not
find myself attracted
to an American.”
Gemma started whistling as she applied the
cream to Hero’s now bare back. Hero tried to focus on how bronze
and un-fish’s-underbelly her skin would look, but other, less happy
images invaded her thoughts. “And even if I were to find a man I
fancied, I’m sure he’d be panting after one of those trim, tiny
women who will no doubt be parading around with their fake breasts
and toned thighs and pert bums with thongs stuck in between their
cheeks and such.”
“Hero?”
“What?” Hero’s thoughts were dark with
images of liposuctioned buttocks.
“Do you know what I think? You are setting
yourself up for major trouble.”
“Trouble? By not wishing to become involved
with an American? How is that trouble?”
“Your prejudice against Americans has
nothing to do with the matter—I’m speaking of women who deny
themselves love, women who repress their honest, loving, and
demonstrative natures, women who decry relationships on pretenses
of standards. Such women inevitably end up falling for a man, and
hard.”
Hero rolled her eyes “I’m nothing like
that.”
“They snap, that’s what they do. They meet a
man, they fall instantly and deeply in love, and voila! Instant
snappage.”
“You’re quite, quite mad, aren’t you?”
“They call it the
Fatal Attraction
syndrome, you know. One moment you’re a professional,
intelligent woman in control of your life, the next you’re
completely obsessed with the man. It’s quite tragic, really, and
since I don’t want to see you boiling up some poor innocent man’s
rabbit, I am warning you now.”
“Obsessed,” Hero scoffed. “I’ve never been
obsessed with a man in my life. I’m hardly likely to start
now.”
“It’s not as if you’ve had a great deal of
experience, love.”
“Just because you can count my relationships
on one hand”—Gemma held up two fingers—”very well, just because
I’ve only had two relationships of any duration—”
“A fortnight each, weren’t they?”
“—
doesn’t mean I am naive
and inexperienced. I can assure you that if and when I meet a man
I’m interested in, I will not snap, not that I’m likely to meet him
where I’m going.”
“Take heed, Hero! If you continue to deny
yourself the natural expression of your affections, one day you’re
going to find yourself suddenly unable to think of anything but a
man you’ve just met. You’ll stalk him through crowds, you’ll feel
insane jealousy when you see him with other women, you’ll concoct
feeble excuses to seek him out because you must be near him; then,
ultimately, you’ll end up—”
“Stabbed to death in a bathtub?” Hero
asked.
“Possibly. I prefer to think that it’ll all
end up happily, after your chosen man realizes that you’re not
truly insane.”
“Thank you,” Hero replied, mollified.
“I’m sure it won’t take him any time to
realize what the true problem is.”
Hero cocked an eyebrow in question.
Gemma smiled. “You just need a right good
shagging.”
Adam Fuller was beginning
to fee martyred.
Saint
Adam
: it had a nice ring to it.
“Don’t forget to take pictures of any man
who looks like he’s hitting on Sally. And names, I want names.
Names are important. You got that?”
“Names. Pictures. I have it.” He switched
the black plastic cat carrier to his other hand and reached in his
jacket pocket for the airplane ticket.
“I want to know what she does every minute
of the day, and who she does it with. If she looks like she’s
having fun. I want to know that too. And don’t forget the pictures
of the men she’s with. And their names.
Adam sighed.
“Who she had dinner with, who she dances
with, who she does the stupid dating events with, who she smiles
at—I particularly want to know that—who she talks to, who she—”
“I get the idea, Gar; you don’t have to beat
it into me. You want me to watch her. I understand the job; you’ll
just have to trust me to do it.”
Edgar Holliday, famed
throughout the NFL for his thirty-yard passes rather than his
intellectual capabilities, glowered at the tall man walking next to
him. “This is important, Adam. Sally isn’t just any woman;
she’s
the
woman.
I’m going to marry her one day. She’s going to be the mother of my
little quarterbacks. I love her! That’s why it’s important you keep
your eye on her while she’s going through this difficult
time.”
“Difficult time? Gar, she kicked you out and
told you she never wanted to see you again.”
“She was mad at me because of that little
thing with the cheerleader. It’s nothing. Women like Sally get
emotional that way. Probably was her time of the month.”
“She got a restraining order against you.
That doesn’t sound like PMS to me.”
“It’ll blow over,” Edgar said, supremely
confident and utterly oblivious to the admiring looks sent his way
as he and Adam strode through the busy airport. “It always does.
She’ll take me back; you’ll see.”
“She said the only way she’d ever want to
see you again was if you were hanging by your balls.”
“She’s just playing with me. That’s why I
need you to tell me every damned thing she does while she’s on that
TV show. It’s important.”
“I’ll watch her,” Adam agreed.
“Like a hawk?”
“Like a hawk. You’re worrying about
nothing—this may be my first job as a private investigator, but I
think I’ll be able to handle keeping an eye on one woman on a small
tropical island.”
“I’m paying a lot of money for this,” Edgar
reminded his friend. “It wasn’t pocket change buying off the TV
show producer, not to mention the guy whose place you’re taking.
And then there were the bribes to smuggle that monster of yours
through customs. You think that comes cheap?”
The two men approached the waiting area for
the charter flight to the island. Adam said, “I know it isn’t, and
I’m sorry about having to bring Jesus, but I couldn’t leave him
alone. Not after what he’s been through. Dr. Miller says his last
suicide attempt could well have been fatal.”
“What sort of cat would try to kill himself
by eating a box of crayons?”
“A depressed one with a very colorful litter
box,” he answered, slapping gently at the gray paw that emerged,
claws extended, out of a breathing hole on the side of the carrier.
Jesus had already snagged three people while Adam waiting in line
for his boarding pass; he had no desire to add Edgar’s expensive
silk suit to the list of damages owed. “Dr. Miller says he’s lost
his will to live, and if I don’t do something drastic, one of these
days his suicide attempts will succeed. And since his depression is
all my fault . . . “ Adam sighed again. “Well, that’s why I’m
here.”
Edgar made no reply to that, just handed his
friend a folder. “Here’s the details on the guy you’re replacing.
There’s a flight booked under his name for you from Miami to
Mystique Island. Read the information and then destroy it.”
Adam grinned. “You want me to eat it, just
like the spies do?”
Edgar considered the suggestion.
“That might not be a bad idea. I wouldn’t
want Sally to find out what you’re really up to. She’s mad enough
at me for bugging her office—she’d be really pissed about me hiring
you to follow her during this dating show.” A sudden frown of
suspicion blossomed between his thick brows. “Just because I want
you to keep tabs on her doesn’t mean you can date her
yourself.”
Adam thought of the aggressive tiny blond
woman who had been Edgar’s girlfriend and gave a mental shudder. “I
wouldn’t think of it.”
“Is that right?” Edgar asked, still
frowning. “You said that girl you lived with . . . Bethany . . .
Betty—”
“Brittany.”
“—
left you, so why wouldn’t
you think of Sally? She’s got everything, a hell of a lot more that
that Brittany had. Sally is pretty and smart and goes at it like a
mink in heat.”
“She also has an ex-boyfriend who is now my
employer,” Adam drawled, nudging the cat carrier out of reach of a
woman standing nearby.
Edgar’s eyes narrowed as he studied Adam.
Tall, blue-eyed, dark haired, Adam looked exactly what he was—a
clean-cut man with few vices and a somewhat quirky take on life.
“Yeah, but you’re pretty good looking. For a guy.” he added. “Women
must like you.”
Brittany’s parting words as she had stormed
out of his apartment still rang in Adam’s ears. He tried hard to
look suave and sophisticated and drop-dead sexy, and not at all
like a man whose twelve-year relationship had ended because his
significant other told him he was a lousy lover. “Regardless, the
only interest I have in Sally is purely professional. So relax,
I’ll call you later tonight, after I’ve had a chance to look over
the situation.”
“Don’t forget to destroy the evidence,”
Edgar warned. “Oh, hell, there she is. I have to leave so she
doesn’t see me with you, but don’t you forget! Watch her but don’t
date her! And get me names! And pictures!”
Adam nodded, rescued a small
tapestry-covered bag from the clutches of the gray arm extended
from the carrier, and watched as his childhood friend, now
employer, tried to make his huge self look invisible by skulking
off through the crowd. Then he glanced casually over his shoulder
to take note of where his quarry was, and was astounded to see her
storming up to him with murderous look on her face. Even though she
only reached his shoulder, he knew from the few times he’d met her
that her petite size was misleading. Extremely misleading. He
summoned a smile and tried to look as if he were not the possessor
of a brand-new private detective’s license.
“Hi, Sally. Long time no see.”
“You!” she said in a snarl as she pushed
past the people in line behind him to brandish a piece of paper
clutched in her hand. “Is this true?”
Adam caught the name of a detective agency
on the letterhead as she waved the paper under his nose. “Is what
true?”
“This bull! Is it true that Edgar hired you
to spy on me while I’m in the Caribbean? Is it? Did you agree to
this?”
Adam blanched. She had a detective of her
own? Watching him? Why? “Er . . . “
“Because if it is, you can just turn around
right now and go home,” Sally bellowed, crumpling up the paper in a
manner that made Adam suspect she was envisioning his neck between
her hands. Or worse. “It’s outrageous! It’s ridiculous! I won’t
have it, do you hear me?”
“I think just about everyone her heard you,
Sally. Maybe we could talk about this—Jesus, no! Sorry, ma’am. It’s
my cat; he’s a bit bored being in the carrier. Here’s your magazine
back. It looks like he only tore off a little bit.”
“Look, Fuller, I don’t give a damn what
Edgar hired you to do; you’re not doing it, OK? Now if you’ll
excuse me, I have a plane to catch. You can go home.”
Adam grabbed the cat carrier and followed
Sally to the back of the line, where she stood seething with fury
and righteous indignation, “Sally, I don’t know how you found out
about Gar hiring me, but you have to give me a break. I’ve been on
unemployment for more than a year; this is the first paying job
I’ve had since the dot-com went under. I promise I won’t get in the
way. You won’t even know I’m there!”
“I won’t know you’re there all right.” Sally
stared straight ahead, growling in a tone reminiscent of Jesus when
he was eating a particularly succulent piece of chicken. “Because
you won’t be there. Go home, Adam.”
“I can’t,” Adam said quietly, trying to keep
the pathetic pleading note out of his voice. “I have to go. I’ve
already put a down payment on Jesus’s surgery—there’s no way I can
afford the rest of it if I don’t do this job. Besides, Gar promised
to tell all his football buddies obsessed with their ex-girlfriends
about me if he’s happy with my work. So have a little pity on me,
Sally. I’ll take a few pictures, make a couple of notes—you won’t
even see me.”
She turned to face him. The
look in her eyes made him want to flinch, but he stood firm
instead. He was a man, dammit, and he had a job to do, and it
wasn’t like it was illegal or anything. He did flinch at that.
Not
very
illegal,
he amended. “Stay away from me, Fuller. If I even so much as see
you, I’ll tell the show’s producer who you are and have him kick
your ass all the way back to California.”
Her threats were very effective; Adam had to
give her that. She was mean as a jackal and twice as vicious. Adam
tried to look tough in response. He scowled. He added the tiniest
sneer to the scowl, then threw in an Elvis lip twitch for good
measure. “You do your job, and I’ll do mine, babe.”
The woman at the counter motioned for Sally
to come forward. Sally ignored her for a moment, leveling her
finger at Adam, then poking it in his chest. “Stay away from me, or
else I’ll have your balls. Understand?”
Adam straightened his shoulders and looked
down his nose at the tiny blond jackal threatening him. “I
appreciate the offer, Sally, but I’m really not interested in you
that way.”