Page 4 of Scripted for Love and Poison
“Us?” Luke asked Sol, visibly surprised. “A job? We don’t need a job.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sol answered.
They were finally inside the Uber that would take them to the Fairmont Hotel in Century City. Sol was still missing a big suitcase full of such basic things like extra sunglasses, block heel sandals, and a party clutch, but she’d decided to stop complaining about it for one full minute. Luke had assured her that she’d get her stuff back soon enough. So she was sharing some pressing news with him.
“That was my editor calling me at the airport,” started Sol.
“Julie McQueen?”
“You remembered her firstandlast name?” Her heart skipped a beat. Not only was he sexy and smart in confusingly equal measure, he’d just dealt with airport employees on her behalf and remembered her editor’sfullname. He had the uncommon quality of paying attention. Finding someone who caredandlistened was exceptionally rare. And if one was fortunate enough to find such a person, they normally never looked like an Italian model with perfect, tousled dark waves and even more perfect pillowy lips. And yet, he was seated next to her, looking at her intently—and still waiting for an answer.
“Julie, yes,” Sol finally said. Her neck was a bit sore from the nap on the plane, and she was trying to massage it. “She’s worried because one of her friends, who sounds awful, has gone missing. She actually thinks he’s dead, but I tried talking her down about that?—”
“Missing?” Luke took his left hand to her neck and started kneading her muscles with a perfect, alleviating pressure.
“He won’t return any of Julie’s texts, calls, or emails,” Sol said, her eyes now closing. She enjoyed the expert touch of Luke’s hands on her neck.
“Sol, you know I like Julie,” Luke said, not stopping his work on her tight muscles. His voice sounded deliciously coarse. “She’s kept you employed while you try to get your novel published, and I realize that she’s one of the only editors who doesn’t cause you an allergic reaction. But could this friend be on a trip and away from his devices? Or maybe he just doesn’t want to speak to Julie.”
“Is that what you tell all your potential clients?” She opened one of her eyes and narrowed it on Luke.
His voice dropped, rough and deep, making every word land heavier. “No, that’s the version for the person whose neck I like caressing.”
“So not all your clients get such outstanding service,” she said, both her eyes open now and a note of sexy flirtation in her tone.
“Definitely not,” Luke said, leaning in, voice playful. “But tell me more about this job you’ve gotten us.”
“Julie is in London, of course. So she asked me to go to her friend’s place and check on him since she can’t do it herself. He lives here in LA.”
“What if we don’t find him at home because he’s on a trip—or went to the supermarket.”
“We’ll leave a note,” Sol said matter-of-factly.
“A note?”
“Yes, asking him to give us a call because Julie is worried. And tomorrow we’ll have another chance to find him, because he’s supposed to be at the same awards ceremony we’re attending.”
“Remind me again, how many people are attending this thing tomorrow?”
“Upward of fifteen hundred,” she said sheepishly.
“Should be easy enough,” Luke said, not even pretending to mask the sarcasm. “I’m afraid to ask, but are we getting paid for this job?”
“We’re doing it as a favor to Julie.”
“Are we?” he said, his hands still at her neck, his eyes pinned on hers, a wolfish smile on his lips.
Perhaps things between the two of them weren’t as strained, after all, and the only thing they’d needed was toget out of London. There was nothing like traveling to remind her of everything she loved.
4
There was nothing like travelingto remind Luke of everything he abhorred because he was away from London.
He knew he could be perceived as narrow-minded, even limited, but gods did he miss his hometown. Everything was objectively better there. For one, they were in the right time zone. But here he was, eight hours behind his natural biorhythm. His body just wanted to slumber, yet the sun was shining with an unnatural intensity for January.
What was this place? Sol had assured him their hotel was in a perfectly centric location, yet you’d never have said it just by looking at it. The Fairmont Century Plaza was a slab of glass and concrete towered by two skyscrapers. There was no hustle and bustle of pedestrians on the street as one would assume from anycentrallocation. Luke was still unsure whether the hotel was accessible on foot since it was surrounded by a two-lane driveway.
After checking in and having a quick shower, Sol had forbidden him from sleeping. She’d argued something about the need to adapt to the time change and mitigate jetlag. It was easy for her to say since she’d taken a seven- or eight-hour nap on the plane. But he hadn’t slept a wink. He’d never been good at sleeping in public spaces. Passing out and drooling in front of strangers wasn’t exactly his brand.
