Page 21 of Fit for Love

He nods, as if what I said was in any way reasonable.“Do you have a solution?”

My throat is drier than the desert, which works out because when my heart jumps into it, it stays put in my body.“I’d use that one.”I point at the palest yellow iguana in the mess.“Then you can ‘pale it up’ in post-production.”

He wrinkles his nose.

“Or,” I quickly say, “if editing photos is unthinkable, we could cover the iguana in foundation and give it some sort of vampire contacts.”

Tierre’s eyes light up.“We’ll give him a makeover.The models too.”

“There you go.”I really hope he doesn’t make the models look like vampiric iguanas, but he probably will—and the fashion world will eat that up just as eagerly as everything else he excretes.

“Keep this up,” he says.“I knew you’d be useful if you got rid of the mopey juju, and I was right, as usual.”

“Thank you.”It takes a lot of effort not to put a question mark at the end of that sentence.

He approaches me—as in, advances way into my personal space—then takes my chin and twists my head left and right.

“You haven’t just lost the mope,” he says, and for some reason, his breath smells exactly like the citrus notes of Chanel Coco Mademoiselle.“You’ve done a three-sixty.You’re glowing now.”

If I’d done a three-sixty, I’d be back in mope land.Obviously, I don’t inform Mr.Boss of this.I just mutter “thank you” instead.

“You’re welcome,” he says imperiously and leaves my personal space in order to shout commands at his other minions.

A slender hand lands on my shoulder.“I think it is me everyone should be thanking,” Catherine murmurs.

I turn her way.“I agree, but… why this time?”

She pulls me aside.“You saw Ash, didn’t you?”

I nod.

“And now you’re glowing.”She looks at me like “connect the dots already.”

I stare at her.How could she know why I’m glowing?Does she smell sex on me, like a dog?For that matter, is that what her husband picked up on as well—my orgasms?

“I know exactly how you feel,” she says.“Ash is so amazing.He left me equally speechless and glowing… countless times.”

“What?”The question comes out angrier than appropriate for work.

Catherine cocks her head.“I told you: Tierre and I are in an open marriage, so you don’t need to be so indignant.In fact, he likes it when I?—”

“But… are you saying Ash sleeps withallhis clients?”I hold my breath as I wait for her answer, but I already know what she’s going to say.

“Not all.Just the female ones,” she clarifies.“When Tierre took a session, he got an actual workout.”

I feel like I’ve been sucker punched.In my ovaries.And then had them extracted without anesthesia.

“He’s… a gigolo?”

Catherine giggles.“Don’t be silly.That’s such an outdated term.He’s a personal trainer with benefits.Have you never heard of such a thing?”

I shake my head, and she tells me about her tennis coach, who goes down on her, and her pool boy, who’s a great foot masseuse, and her plumber, who services all sorts of openings that aren’t pipes.

With every word she speaks, I feel more and more nauseated.

Catherine’s phone rings just as she was about to tell me what she does with her accountant.Apologizing, she picks up, and when the call is over, she says, “It’s about to start.Let’s go.”

“What’s about to start?”

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