I hated that shoe.
"This shoe," I said, "by any chance, was it red?"
Kayla looked surprised. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
Good question. I pointed vaguely toward her red bikini. "Red does seem to be your color."
"Oh sure." She rolled her eyes. "Not that he noticed."
"You mean Zane?"
"Who else?" she said. "I go down to his office, and I'm wearing these great heels and this awesome red dress, with a matching red thong and everything." She gave a little shimmy. "No bra, by the way. And he practically ignores me."
I was almost afraid to ask, "Did he, uh, see the thong?"
"Well, yeah." She shrugged. "He might've gotten a peek or two."
"How?"
"Well, it wasn't from anything he did. That's for sure. I could've been wearing a paper sack for all he noticed."
I felt myself smile. "Really?"
She gave me a look. "Why are you so happy about it?"
I wiped the smile from my face. "Um, because it's a really good story?"
She grumbled, "I'm glad someone thinks so. But I guess I shouldn’t take it personally. I mean, I know why he wasn't interested."
"Oh yeah? Why?"
"Because he was screwing all those models. With all that action, it's a wonder his dick didn't fall right off."
And just like that, my urge to smile was gone. For starters, I liked his dick right where it was. Plus, her statement was a grim reminder of how many girls Zane had gone through, just within the last few months.
Kayla said, "But you wanna know what I think?"
By now, I wasn't so sure. Still, I said, "What?"
"I think he's been banging them for information."
No. He was "banging them" because they were gorgeous. That much was obvious. I said, "Sorry, but I'm not seeing it."
"Why not?" She licked her lips. "If he were banging me, I'd tell him anything."
What? I gave a confused shake of my head. "But I thought you hated him."
"Well, yeah, but he's still smoking hot, right?"
Yes. He was.
But more than that, he was actually a pretty decent person, all things considered.
Imagine that.
"But wait," I said. "You said he wanted information? About what?"
"About who killed his uncles."
Okay, that was unexpected. "But they both died in accidents."
"Oh, please. Two freak accidents in one day?" She gave a little laugh. "You don't believe that, do you?"
It had seemed suspicious. But it wasn't something I'd been dwelling on. "So you think he's looking to do what? Solve the crime or something?"
"No," she said. "I think he's looking to make sure he's not next."
I swallowed. "You mean to get killed?"
She gave an enthusiastic nod. "Oh yeah. I mean, if someone whacked the uncles, why not him, too?"
I swear, my heart stopped beating. "You don't think he's in any danger, do you?"
"I hope not," she said.
"Yeah," I whispered. "Me, too."
"Because seriously, I doubt he'd leave us a thing."
I stared in absolute horror. "You mean in his will?"
"Well yeah," she said. "We were screwed once. No need to get screwed again."
Well, that was nice.
Kayla gave a long, sad sigh. "But I guess I'll have to be satisfied with the paintings."
I stiffened. "Not today, you won't."
"Excuse me?"
"I can't let you take them."
Her gaze narrowed. "And who's gonna stop me? You?"
If it came down to that, I would. But I still had this blind hope of reasoning with her first. "Look, why don’t you have Bob call Zane? Let them work it out."
"No way," she said. "Bob's in New York. He won't be back 'til tomorrow. And why should I make a special trip?"
With that, she turned and started heading deeper into the house. Over her shoulder, she said, "There's a really nice one in the den."
Oh, God. Was I really going to have to wrestle her for the paintings? With increasing desperation, I scrambled after her. "But Kayla, wait. I need to tell you something."
With a sigh, she stopped and turned around. "What?"
Yeah. What?
Grasping at straws, I finally blurted out, "I heard that Bob's going through a tough time. Maybe you should give him a call. Like, now."
She was frowning again. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I didn't want to say anything, but I heard he's in bad shape."
Her frown deepened. "You're not talking about his beer gut, are you?"
Huh? I didn't notice a beer gut. "Uh…no?"
"Oh, so you mean that flab under his chin?" She waved away my concern. "I'm not worried. He's having lipo when he gets back."
Liposuction? Really? I couldn't even imagine. For starters, he didn't need it. And besides, wasn't that expensive?
But already, Kayla was turning away.
"Wait," I called. "You never said. Why was Bob in New York?"
Again, Kayla stopped and turned around. With a sound of impatience, she said, "Because Zane was there…with his P.R. chick."
I froze. P.R.? As in Public Relations? Was she seriously talking about me?
Chapter 70
It suddenly struck me that Kayla had never even asked my name. Did she truly not realize that I was the so-called P.R. Chick? Apparently not.
I shook my head. "Sorry, but I'm not following."
"Look, it's not that complicated. Zane had all these interviews set up, right?"
As the person who set them up, I'd definitely know. But how was she so well informed? I said, "And you knew this, how?"
"From Teddy," she said. "So anyway, Bob and I get to talking, and we decide that what Zane needs is a little reminder that we can hurt him, too."
I so didn't like the sounds of that. "What do you mean?"
Kayla smiled. "Two words. Bad publicity."
"Oh?"
Kayla nodded. "Yeah, Bob figures he'll put a good scare into her, meaning the P.R. chick."
"But how?"
"By showing her the kind of publicity she'll be dealing with if Zane doesn't cooperate."
Funny, I hadn't been scared. Concerned? Yes. But scared? Not even a little, unless I counted Zane's reaction, which, yes, was a little scary.
I gave her a perplexed look. "What kind of publicity do you mean?"
"Interviews, appearances…whatever to show the world how Zane Bennington left us dirt poor and kicked us out of our home."
"So, Bob wanted revenge?" I said. "Is that what you're saying?"
"No." She looked at me like I was stupid. "He wanted money – which he should've been getting all along."
"So, you were planning to do what? Blackmail him?"
She gave me a cheerful smile. "Right."
There was no way I'd be smiling back. Aside from the sliminess, that had to be one of the dumbest plans I'd ever heard. "But Zane doesn't care about bad publicity." I hesitated. "Does he?"
Kayla's smile faded. "Apparently not." And then, she brightened. "But he does care about the P.R. gal."
I felt myself go very still. "What do you mean?"
"Well, according to Teddy, he's boning her on the side."
Okay, now that was just plain insulting. "Boning her?"
"You know. Fucking her."
Through gritted teeth, I said, "I know what boning means."
"Really? Because you looked confused."
I was confused, but not because of the terminology. I said, "So, this plan, did it work?"
Her shoulders slumped. "No. Zane ruined everything. As usual."
"How?"
"For starters, he kicks Bob out of Teddy's suite –"
"Wait. Teddy's suite?"
"Yeah. Technically, Zane owns it, but it's always been Teddy's place." She glanced around. "Kind of like the house."
"Wait a minute. This house? The one we're standing in?"
"Rig
ht." She waved the subject away. "But anyway, Zane catches Bob in the middle of his pitch and gets all pissy about it."
"Pissy?"
"Mad. Whatever. And get this. Afterward, he tracks Bob down and tells him that if he ever bothers his precious P.R. gal again, he'll live to regret it him." Kayla made a scoffing sound. "Like she's so special."
Against all logic, I wanted to smile. Oh sure, the story was terrible, but it still made me feel embarrassingly warm all over.
Kayla was still talking. "Although, here's something funny. This P.R. chick? She's so stupid, she doesn't even realize that it's all an act."
"Excuse me?"
"Yeah." Kayla gave a little laugh. "Get this. She pulls out like two-hundred bucks and hands it over, like she's saving Bob's life or something." Kayla rolled her eyes. "God, what an idiot."
My jaw clenched. "Yeah. No kidding."
And I meant it too. Zane had told me. But had I listened?
No. I hadn't.
But I should've. After all, he knew these people a whole lot better than I did.
Damn it.
Did I owe him an apology?
Probably.
In front of me, Kayla was still laughing. "Two hundred bucks? In Manhattan? I mean, that won't even get you a decent dinner."
I had no idea what to say to that, mostly because everything I wanted to say was loaded with profanity.
Kayla gave another quick glance around. "You know what? Forget the paintings."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Really?"
She nodded. "Yeah, they're a lot of trouble. I think I'll just grab the silverware."
I gave her a look. "You can't have the silverware."
"Why not?"
"Because, as I keep telling you, I'd need to check with Zane first."
"Screw him," she said. "He can shove a fork up his ass for all I care." And with that, she made a move to go around me.
I sidestepped to block her path.
She moved to the other side.
I moved again.
Her gaze narrowed. And then, she pulled a fast one, faking to the left, but then dodging to the right. A moment later, she was sprinting toward the kitchen with me on her heels.
I caught up, just as she was yanking open the silverware drawer, and reaching for the tray inside.
Sure enough, she yanked out the silverware, tray and all, and then turned to make off with it. To where, I had no idea, unless she was planning to sprint back to the gas station.
Not so fast, sister.
I lunged forward and grabbed the tray's other end, making the silverware jangle precariously. I gave the tray a tug.
She gave it a tug right back. "Let go!"
I tugged again. "No!"
"I mean it!"
The next thing I knew, the tray was flying upward, with all the silverware inside. Just as the tray almost reached the ceiling, the tray itself started to fall even as the silverware kept on going, crashing into the ceiling, and then falling hard and fast, until the mass of forks, knives, and whatever came to a clattering crash all over the tile floor.
Kayla yelled, "You did that on purpose!"
"Yeah? Well, you're a skank!" I gave a little gasp. I'd never called anyone a skank before. Or a slut, or even a bitch, come to think of it. Oh, sure, I'd thought such things. But saying them out loud was a different matter entirely.
Kayla was glaring at me now. "What'd you call me?"
I cleared my throat. In a quieter voice, I said, "A skank?"
Just then, I heard a yip at the nearby kitchen. I turned to look and spotted two furry faces with big floppy ears.
It was Flint and Lansing. I swear, they were smiling.
I knew why, and I hated to disappoint them. I gave them an apologetic look. "Sorry." I winced. "I don't have any meatballs."
When I turned back to Kayla, she was still glaring, but not at me. Rather, she was glaring past my left shoulder.
I turned to look and saw who? Zane Bennington – the most wonderful guy on the planet.
He moved close and pulled me into his arms. Into my hair, he whispered, "You okay?"
I almost didn't know what to say. He felt warm and wonderful, and just the thing I needed.
I wasn't just okay. I was more than okay. With a happy sigh, I nodded against him.
Behind me, I heard Kayla say, "Hey, don't you care about me?"
Without missing a beat, he replied, "No."
"But she called me a skank!"
He shrugged against me. "Well, if the shoe fits…"
Chapter 71
An hour later, it was just him and me. At Zane's insistence, he'd been the one to give Kayla a ride back to her car – minus the silverware or any paintings, for that matter.
As for me, I'd spent that time waiting at Zane's place, mostly playing with the dogs, who'd apparently just arrived home from their doggie vacation up north.
Of course, I spent some of this time rummaging through Zane's massive freezer in search of – yup, you guessed it – stray meatballs.
Did I find any?
I'll never tell. But I will say that two microwavable minutes later, along with a few bad throws, the dogs were in no mood to complain, and soon settled down for a nap in the shade.
I was in no mood to complain either. Somehow, after wandering from the kitchen, I'd ended up on the same exact rug that I'd been cleaning however many months ago.
In fact, that's where Zane found me when he returned from taking Kayla back to the gas station. With an amused smile, he asked, "What are you doing there?"
I was sprawled on my back, gazing up at the high ceiling. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"My question." I gave him an impish smile. "You never did answer it, you know."
He sank down onto the rug beside me and pulled me into his arms. "What question?"
"Earlier, you claimed you were terrified when I showed up on your doorstep. But you weren't really, were you?"
"Hell yes, I was terrified."
I gave him a playful swat to his arm. "Oh, stop it."
"I was," he insisted. "And you wanna know why?"
"Why?"
He pulled me closer. "Because even as mad as you were, I still didn't want you to leave."
I laughed against him. "Wow, that is scary."
"Yeah. Tell me about it." He ran a hand along my back. "And it wasn't just me. It was the dogs, too."
"Now, I know you're joking."
"No joke," he said. "You should've heard them when you left. They howled for an hour." His voice softened. "You do know they're crazy about you."
I was still laughing. "They're not crazy about me. They're crazy about meatballs."
"Nah, they can get those any time. But you? You're something special."
His words made me feel warm and gooey all over, and I smiled against the cotton of his shirt. "So are you."
"Yeah?"
"Totally." Still, I had to tease him. "But I've gotta say, if you didn't want me to leave, you sure had a funny way of showing it."
"Hey, I did what I had to."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You want the truth?" His tone grew serious. "I didn't want you coming around."
"Why not?"
"Because I didn't know who I could trust, and I didn't want you on anyone's radar."
"But why?"
"Because I didn't want anything to happen to you."
That sounded ominous, and I just had to ask, "You're not still worried about that, are you?"
"No. Because I'm a lot better informed."
"About what?"
"Just between you and me?"
I nodded against him.
After a long silence, he said, "I know who killed my uncles."
"Seriously?" I pulled away and sat up. "Who?"
"They did."
"What?"
"Two hits," he said. "One on each other."
"Oh, my God." It was almost too terrible to contemplate. "How did
you find out?"
"I got some hints, hired some people. Truth is, I just found out a couple of hours ago."
"Wow." I studied his face. "Was that why you were so worried about the alarm?"
His gaze met mine. "One of the reasons."
"Speaking of that house…" I hesitated. "Whose is it, really?"
"Mine." He smiled. "Legally, anyway."
I gave a confused shake of my head. "So, are you planning to keep it as a guest house or something?"
"Nah," he said. "I'm planning to let Teddy live there, well, whenever he pulls his head out of his ass."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Zane said. "After all, it's his house."
"But wait, you just said it was yours."
"Technically, it's part of the estate, but my grandfather wanted him to have it."
"He did?"
Zane nodded. "He hated what Bob and Kayla did, driving Teddy out like that."
Oddly enough, I hated it, too. "I can see why."
"And before he died, I promised to make it right."
"But I don't understand," I said. "If that's what he wanted, why didn't he deal with it?"
Zane looked away. "People are different, you know. The things I've had to do – well, I guess he didn't have it in him."
I knew exactly what he meant. But this posed another question. "Sorry, but I've gotta ask, why didn't just tell me what was going on, with the house, I mean?" I gave a shaky laugh. "I was so mad at you."
"Really?" he said. "I didn't notice."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please."
"All right. You wanna know why? It's because you had dinner with Teddy."
"So, you were what? Punishing me?"
"No," he said. "I was trying to keep you from getting dragged into the mud. The whole thing, it's like this messed up freak show, and I wanted to keep you the hell away from it."
I smiled in spite of myself. "But what about Teddy? Why didn't you tell him?"
"You know Teddy," Zane said. "Let's say I give him the house today, how long before he's out again?"
I saw what he meant. I had to admit it, "Not long."
"Right. But if the house is mine, they're gonna have a lot harder time taking it."
"You mean, because…" I wasn't quite sure how to put this.
Zane flashed me a grin. "Because I’m a prick, and Teddy's not."
At this, I had to laugh, because it was so terribly true. Teddy wasn't an awful person, but the odds of him hanging onto anything? Well, they weren't great.
Positively Pricked: A Billionaire Loathing-to-Love Romance Page 31