Drop Dead Gorgeous Read online

  I would have screamed, tried to scream, but my throat balked at the effort and refused to work. I tried not to move. I quivered and shook, my head falling to the side while his mouth worked my neck. I clenched him, hard, trying to hold him and take him deeper, and he quivered, too. I loved feeling that, feeling all of his hardness and strength responding to me. I loved the piercing expression in his green eyes, the way he watched me, the complete and utter abandonment of all defenses as we strained together.

  And then I broke, shuddering, crying, my entire body in motion as I rocked against him in the most total dissolving of sensation I’ve ever felt. The spasms were like waves spreading through me. I felt him groan, felt the vibration through his whole body, and just as I collapsed bonelessly against him he turned us, pinning me to the mattress beneath him as he broke, too.

  We slept like that, without turning off the lamp, without getting up to wash. And if I dreamed, I didn’t know it.

  In the morning, we made love in the shower, which, yes, we both needed. We practically had to unglue ourselves with the aid of warm water. As intense as the night’s lovemaking had been, the morning’s was playful, at least until the last minute or so. I was glowing when I bounced down the stairs.

  I always took longer getting ready, of course, so he already had breakfast started. He turned his head and winked at me as I headed for the coffee. “Do you think you can eat real food today?”

  I took the first swallow of coffee, considered, then rocked my hand in a “maybe, maybe not” motion.

  “Oatmeal it is, then,” he said. “Don’t try anything that’ll make you cough.”

  I had tried to talk, of course, and could actually make sounds this morning. Unfortunately, the sounds were those of a dying frog. Just being able to whisper, though, was an enormous relief, because I had a busy day ahead of me.

  While we were eating he said, frowning, “I can’t stay with you today, so your first stop is for a new cell phone. Got it? You can’t be out of communication.”

  I totally agreed with that.

  “You gotta tell me what happened to your old one, though.”

  Just because I could whisper didn’t mean I should. The less I used my voice, the faster I’d get it back. So I pantomimed beating the cell phone against the window.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said after a moment, his tone strained.

  You’d think no one had ever broken a cell phone before.

  “Now. What I want you to do today is stay out of work. Don’t go to any of your usual places, places where she could expect to find you. Don’t go to your parents’ house. Don’t go to Siana’s. You have a lot of shopping to do, so do it. I’ll take you to a car rental agency and you can drive something completely different from that little eye-catcher out there in the garage.” He was all cop now, his eyes narrow, his mind working. “I’ll have the Mercedes collected, and we’ll put one of our blond female officers in it and have her cruise around—to Great Bods, to your bank, to wherever you usually get lunch. This woman may be lying low for a while, a day or so, but eventually she’s going to come after you again. But it won’t be you. There’s no negotiation on that.”

  I reached for the notebook and scribbled, I have no problem with that. Yeah, if I’d been able to get to her the night of the fire I was so mad I’d have gone vigilante on her ass, but in the light of day my head was cooler and a big reality was staring me in the face: I needed to get this wedding taken care of, and I couldn’t let there be any more delays. Tonight, even if I had to write every word, Wyatt and I would have that conversation I’d been putting off, but I couldn’t afford to wait even until then.

  Thanks to JoAnn’s promising skill behind the desk, she and Lynn could handle things until this nutcase was taken care of. I, in the meantime, would be racing the clock to get my wedding organized. How many days had I already lost because of this woman, assuming she was also the woman who had tried to run me over in the parking lot? She might not be, but hey, she was available to blame, so I blamed her.

  I would feel perfectly safe in an anonymous rental car, going to Sticks and Stones to face Monica Stevens in her den, shopping for my fabric, shopping for new clothes—at a different mall, though—going to see Sally. None of that was my usual routine, and I was starting out from a completely different place, a safe place. She didn’t know where I was or how to find me, and it felt great.

  After breakfast, Wyatt took me to get another cell phone. To my surprise, he didn’t take me to my cell service provider, but to his, and added me to his account. I kept my same number, of course, but combining our accounts felt startlingly…permanent.

  That reminded me of other details I had to attend to, such as canceling my home utilities. I was pretty sure both the phone company and the cable company would continue billing me, even though no home existed there now. And I would need to get an inventory to my insurance company. Man, I’d thought I had my day mapped out, but more and more things were cropping up to eat into my time.

  Our next stop was close to the airport, where all the car rental companies were. I got a Taurus—they have nice suspensions—but guess what? It was white. White seemed to be the predominant color for rental cars. I wasn’t entirely happy with white, but Wyatt was totally against the apple red. “Too noticeable,” he said.

  I guess.

  Then he kissed me and we parted company for the day.

  It was just nine a.m., too early for Sticks and Stones to be open. With time to kill, I went to another fabric store. No luck. That was discouraging, but by the time I’d searched the store over, I’d killed almost an hour, so I drove to Sticks and Stones.

  The same stick-thin woman as before came to greet me, her smile chilling a bit as she took in my jeans and lightweight sweater. “Yes, may I help you?”

  No way out of it, I had to talk—whisper, rather. “I’m Blair Mallory. I left my card day before yesterday, but Ms. Stevens hasn’t called.” I saw her expression as she drew back a little, as if I were contagious. “Yes, I have severe laryngitis. No, you can’t catch it. My house burned down yesterday morning and this is from smoke inhalation, which means I’m not in a great mood so I’d really like to see Monica. Now, if possible.”

  That was a lot to say, and even whispering was a strain. I was scowling by the time I finished. I didn’t like that woman.

  Strangely enough, she brightened at the news that my house had burned down. It took me a moment before I realized she knew a new house and all new furniture meant redecorating. I wondered if she scoured the newspapers looking for news of house fires, the way shady lawyers looked for car accidents.

  She led me through the store into the back, where the offices were set up. Back here the feel was completely different; huge books holding swatches of fabric were stacked helter-skelter, different pieces of furniture were jumbled together, framed art leaned against walls. I actually liked this better; this was where work was done. There was energy here, instead of the coldly stylized feel of the front showroom.

  The woman knocked on an office door, and at an invitation from within, pushed the door open. “Ms. Stevens, this is Blair Mallory,” she said, as if she were introducing me to Queen Elizabeth. “She has laryngitis because her house burned down yesterday—smoke inhalation, you know.” With that tantalizing tidbit, she returned to the showroom and left us alone.

  I’d never met Monica Stevens before, though I’d heard about her. In a way she was what I expected, but in a way she wasn’t. She was fortyish, with sleek black hair in a dramatic, asymmetrical cut—thin, stylish in a studied way, with noisy bangle bracelets on both wrists. I like bangle bracelets only if I’m the one wearing them. Hey, it’s different when you’re the annoyer instead of the annoyed.

  “I’m so sorry about your house,” she said, and her voice had a warm tone that made her seem more approachable. What I hadn’t expected about her was the friendly expression in her eyes.

  “Thank you,” I said, whispered, and pulled Jazz’s i