Page 38 of Guilty as Sin
The trainer nodded toward the juice bar, where the knot of women was breaking up. “The rich ones, of course. Any of them. They want to cash in on somebody else’s sure thing. That Brett Hunter—he’s got a track record for making money, and everybody wants a piece. Half of them are in his pocket already, even if they just want to open an espresso bar or something. I’d watch out if I were you.”
“Oh.” Lily had said this, but Paige hadn’t quite believed it. “Well, thanks.”
“No problem.” The brunette glanced back toward Jace, her energy spiking.
“I’ll just keep on, then,” Paige said, Tactful. Lily-style. “Thank you for the information. And the advice.” She smiled sweetly, then started doing her medicine-ball routine again. She needed to watch. And digest. And possibly see who else came up to her and volunteered information.
Receptive. Open to confidences. Lily.She might as well work on her recovery while she was doing her detective work.
She would so have gotten a medal for this. And not the “I Am Actually a Cop” one she’d been given by the guys in Vice. Made with a jar lid and a red-white-and-blue ribbon, and written in Sharpie. Classy stuff. “We thought about going for subtle,” Ron Hammond had said when the squad had converged on her for their award ceremony. “You know. Subtle like you’re not. But we decided you wouldn’t get it, so no point.”
Who’s subtle now, boys?she wanted to say.Who’s wearing a flowery sports bra, huh? Who’s selling frilly underwear? And who’s solving the Mystery of the Vaguely Threatening Text?Me, that’s who.
And if she could solve the Mystery of the Freaky Fan at the same time for Jace? She’d deserve more than a medal then. That’d be worth a trophy.
Jace had finished his workout and was on the bike for his cooldown when Lily appeared again. She didn’t say anything at first, just hopped on next to him and began to pedal.
“I found something out,” she finally said.
He’d found something out, too. That watching her work out was distracting. “Let’s have it,” he said instead, taking a swig from his water bottle.
“Kelli wants to have rough sex with you,” she said.
He spat out some water.
“I thought you’d like knowing that,” she said.
He mopped at his face. “Cheers. She volunteered that, did she? Casually, during your consultation?”
She snorted. “That wasn’t a consultation. She wanted to give me anintroductory session.To set up myprogram,being as how I was a beginner who was probably overdoing it.” She glared at him. “Just because a woman is feminine doesn’t mean she can’t handle herself.”
“No worries.” He was grinning like a fool, he could tell. “You don’t seem quite as feminine at the moment.”
“I don’t?” Nowshewas the one who looked gobsmacked. “I’m wearing tights with lace on them.”
“Yes,” he said. “You are. And very nice they look, too. You think Kelli could be my stalker, then?”
She got serious fast. “It’s possible. Although you’d imagine something more convoluted, wouldn’t you? You’re not exactly espionage material if you write mysteriously to somebody about the joys of kinky sex, and then talk to his workout partner a few hours later about how you’d like to have kinky sex with him. Unless… grandiosity? Narcissism? Thinking she’s being smarter than she really is? Maybe, though I think that’s more of a male-stalker thing. I’ll have to check personality factors on female stalkers.”
“Thank you,” he said gravely. “I do write thrillers, you know. I’ve done a bit of research myself.”
“I keep forgetting that. See, I believed ‘killer.’ I’m having a harder time with ‘writer.’”
“Both.” He eased off some on the bike. He wanted all his attention for this. “So what exactly did she say?”
“Oh,” Paige said airily, “I said you looked rough, like a guy who’d spank first and then go for the ropes, and she said that sounded good. Basically.” He was still reacting to that when she said, “One problem I’m having with her as your girl is that the thong isn’t her size.”
“Can’t say I noticed.”
She gave him a pitying look. “I thought you were a thriller writer. Doesn’t there have to be a babe? Somebody for the guy to have sex with and move on from?”
He probably shouldn’t tell her that Sawyer had killed his latest bed partner. “I may mention the size of her breasts and the look of her legs. I don’t worry so much about the rest.”
“Well, Kelli’s a small all the way. The thong was a medium. The writer makes a big deal about being blonde and curvy. Kelli’s the last thing from either.”
“Throwing me off?” he suggested.
“But why? If the point of the fantasy is you becoming crazed with desire for her, why would she write a body type she isn’t even close to? I’ve been thinking about that. The wrong hair color’s one thing.Icould write that. I could imagine myself as a devastating blonde. But body type? No. You have to findmeirresistible. I mean,” she added in a hurry, “that would be the fantasy.”
