Page 42 of Scripted for Love and Poison
“And he was a bit of an ass when I talked to him a few days ago,” Sol continued.
Luke’s gaze shot to the phone. There had been something unsettling in her words. “You didn’t tell me about it.”
“I think we were already living at Lola and Geoff’s by then, and communication has been?—”
“—lacking,” Luke finished.
“Yes,” Sol admitted.
“Going back to Victor Lago’s whereabouts.” Divyaredirected the conversation. “Abbie says that Victor likes to party and be seen on the awards circuit.”
“Ah,” Sol said, and that really seemed to make her think of something. “I can’t promise it’s not going to be a total fool’s errand?—”
“—but,” Luke prodded.
“There’s this thing tonight at the Roosevelt Hotel, one of the many precursor parties ahead of the Oscars, where people go to be seen and photographed,” Sol explained.
“Would he be invited?” Divya asked.
“Not directly, because his film hasn’t been nominated or even considered for anything. But he has many friends who are probably invited. So I don’t think it would be that hard to get in for him,” Sol reasoned.
“Canweget invited?” Luke asked, and he knew he was threading a very fine line.
“Igot an invitation to my email, which I’d completely ignored. But I think I can still RSVP, and I can bring one of you as my plus-one,” Sol said. “Divya, I can pick you up at your hotel around seven, if that works.”
“It works, but I thought you’d be taking Luke,” Divya said, visibly confused.
“The grump and I will be talking tonight. After I come back from the party I have to attend for a case where I am most definitelynotinvolved,” Sol said. If Luke had any doubt—which he really shouldn’t—whether she was mad at him or not, he no longer did. “Dress code is cocktail attire, but in California that’s extremely relaxed. Especially because there’ll be lots of press in attendance, and no one has the budget or the energy to make the effort. So just leave the slides at the hotel, and you’ll be fine.”
She was parking at Divya’s hotelten minutes after seven that evening, because if there was a place where Sol Novo managed not to be always on time, it was Los Angeles. Beating traffic just wasn’t possible all the time there.
But when she reached the hotel lobby, it wasn’t the wiry Mancunian detective waiting for her but a very dapper Londoner who had exhausted her patience lately.
“I thought I said I’d be taking Divya with me tonight,” Sol told him.
She was furious not only at him anymore, but also at herself. She could feel butterflies in her stomach just because he was standing in front of her in all his manly magnificence, giving her one of his roguish grins. It was the same spiraling sensation she’d had when they’d started flirting—only they’d been together for months now. Shouldn’t she be more reassured in whatever it was they had? Less dazzled, too, if her past experience had taught her anything.
Even if she loved Divya’s company, the idea of spending a few hours with Luke was extremely alluring—regardless of what she may pretend. The fact that he looked gorgeous in the dark suit and white shirt open at the collar, contrasting with his bronzed olive skin, probably contributed to her need to be in his company. Sol may have picked up the expression “he looked like sex in a suit” in an Elsie Silver book and unfairly rolled her eyes while reading it. Luke had brought a new perspective to the meaning of those words.
But she was still furious at herself for thinking all those things. And she was resolved not to show any of that to him.Because she was supposed to be mad at him.
“Divya crashed half an hour ago. Bad case of jet lag after an extremely inadvisable hiking experiment,” Luke said.Why did he have to sound so sexy when he spoke? “Allora, solo io e te stasera, cara.”
“Your Italian doesn’t do anything for me,” she said, and that was probably the biggest lie she’d ever told him. But what had her fuming was that Luke seemed to know she was bluffing.
“Would complimenting how sexy you look change that?” he said as he offered her his arm since she was perched atop the same very high shoes she’d gotten for the awards ceremony, and he knew her balance on those was shaky at best.
“You can compliment Lola, she lent me the dress,” Sol almost barked as his gaze traveled the range of her curves, which were hugged in a strappy, dark-green dress. She could feel herself blushing under his inquisitive eyes. What was wrong with her exactly?
She was forty-three, twice divorced, mature, reasonably rational, and quite independent, yet she was literally melting because her lover—who’d been a complete ass the past few days—was shamelessly checking her out. His eyes were wordlessly telling her what he’d like to do with her if they ever found themselves in private again.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to head straight to the counter and beg for a hotel room. A storage closet would probably do as well,” she finally told him, because she’d realized that playing cool was futile. She had given up. She took the offered arm and felt his muscular bicep under the fabric of his suit.
“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” he said, still fucking her with his eyes.
“I think there’s a damn party you need me to drive you to,” Sol reasoned, against all her instincts. “The sooner you get this thing solved and wrapped up?—”
“—the sooner you quit being on Officer Hunky Dory’sno-travel list and we get back home,” he said, and that seemed to sober both of them up.
