Shades of Stars (Lola Pink Mysteries Book 2)

by Gina LaManna

  “And Andrea?”

  Gerard gave me a wry grin. “Guys like cars. Guys also like beautiful women. She’s a model we stick in the front seat—PR team’s orders.”

  He told me this as we strolled through the grounds of the beautiful estate. All the bushes, trees, and flowers were kept in gorgeous displays. The lawn was a piece of art, each trellis a perfect bouquet of sweet smelling flowers.

  “I’ve gotta do the rounds on the Datsuns,” Gerard said as we reached the garage. “Dane and Andrea are in the main room. Go on around the corner and you’ll find them.”

  The garage was less of a garage and more of a showroom. I’d never been in it before, but I’d seen a few magazine pictures of his legendary collection. White walls lined every corridor, bright lights flashing off cars in every shade of royal blue, poison black, vibrant red. It was a car enthusiast’s dream come true.

  Voices filtered from up ahead, so I strolled forward around the corner. And came face to face with Business Barbie. Dressed in a pencil skirt tight enough to cut off the circulation in her legs, the woman I guessed was Andrea stood three inches away from Mr. Dane Clark. Her lips were the color of strawberries, her hair the shade of flames. Her boobs were like two perfect cantaloupes sticking out of her chest, landing really, really close to Dane.

  “Wanna feel them?” she was asking Dane. “They’re brand new.”

  “No, thank you.” Mr. Clark coughed, looking extremely uncomfortable, his gaze veering toward the ceiling. “Maybe someone else around here would be interested?”

  Business Barbie snapped her gum. “Go on! Don’t be a prude. One squeeze.”

  I hovered awkwardly in the wings, wondering when the appropriate time to announce myself would be. Should they know I heard Andrea’s very generous offer or should I opt for the playing it cool route?

  While I waited, I watched my boss—my sort of boyfriend—the socially inept and technological genius owner of the Clark Company, a billion-dollar company that had been passed down through his family for generations, as he stalled. His face turned the color of the shiny red convertible next to him, and I winced as he tried to step backward, stumbled over himself, and then in an attempt to redeem himself, leaned a hip awkwardly against the side of the vehicle.

  Despite the lack of grace around women, this generation of the Clark family was decidedly stunning. Hair the color of ink, eyes the color of sapphire, the combination was startling upon first sight. Though he wasn’t movie star handsome, there was something about him—the way he walked, talked, moved—that turned the heads of women as he entered a room. He was rich, and he was recognizable. He just didn’t understand how to talk to the female species.

  I took another step forward, but before I could announce my presence, Business Barbie reached out and grabbed Dane’s hand and pulled it toward her, giving a bubbly laugh as she did.

  I let out an involuntary gasp, and both parties turned to look my way. Mr. Clark’s eyebrows shot up while Business Barbie’s drew together in skepticism.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “I thought they were sending Janet to do hair and makeup.”

  “I’m not hair and makeup,” I said. “Are you—”

  “Oh! Are you the janitor Gerard called to clean up the mess?” She frowned mid-sentence as Dane yanked his hand away as if he’d been seared. “Sorry about the coffee spill. I swear I’m such a klutz.”

  Footsteps sounded behind me, and then Gerard appeared at my side. He came to a hard stop at the picture before us. “Am I interrupting?” he asked in the awkward silence.

  “I think maybe we both are,” I told him, then offered Dane and Andrea a wave. “It was nice to meet you Andrea—Dane, just come grab me if you need anything. I’ll be in the house.”

  “Wait!” Finally, Dane blinked to attention. “Lola, don’t go. I didn’t—she just...” Frustrated, he turned to Business Barbie while pointing to me. “She’s not the janitor,” he finally snapped. “She’s my personal assistant.”

  The words personal assistant hit my back like a dagger. Which was ridiculous because that’s exactly what I was hired and paid to do. Paid very handsomely. I wasn’t here as Dane’s date, his girlfriend, or anything close. Not really.

  “Lola.” Dane’s voice rolled across the open garage floor. “May I speak to you?”

  “Why don’t you finish up your shoot,” I said evenly, “and I’ll go ahead and get started on the papers you wanted me to work on this morning. I’d hate to miss my deadline, Mr. Clark.”

  Chapter 3

  FORKS CLINKED AGAINST plates, the sound loud in the deafening silence of the dining hall.

  “Coffee?” Mrs. Dulcet asked, scurrying from the kitchen with a silver pot in hand. “It’s a new batch.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “My, aren’t we a chatty bunch this morning?” She looked up, her eyes sliding from one end of the long dining hall table to the other. “Excellent. I’ll be out of your hair in a second. Let me know if you need more biscotti, Lola.”

  “Thank you,” I said, reaching for my third cookie. I bit down, crunching into it while holding firm eye contact with Dane. A health nut and exercise fanatic, he hated when I overdosed on sugar. Which was an essential daily occurrence. “I think five will be plenty.”

  “Five?” Dane raised his eyebrow and looked pained. “With the nine strips of bacon you ate, that’s more than two hundred percent of your daily—”

  “Don’t say it,” I said. “Ignorance is bliss.”

  “—fat,” he finished.

  “Andrea probably doesn’t eat fat,” I mused. As soon as I said it, I heard the pettiness in my own voice and frowned. I searched for something positive to focus on instead. “She seems very outgoing, and she’s obviously beautiful.”

  “Lola, you must know I wasn’t—am not, and never was—interested in her. I didn’t even meet her before the PR team started using her for the new campaign. We’re launching a chip for self-driving cars, and...it doesn’t matter.” He folded his hands on the table in front of his plate and concentrated on me. “Is that the reason for your extended silences?”

  “No.”

  Mr. Clark sighed long and loud. “I sense your agitation, Lola—please don’t try to hide these things. You know I can’t read your mind.”

  “I’m feeling focused.” I jerked the stack of papers he’d brought to the table towards me and pretended to read through them. “Interesting stuff.”

  “It’s in Chinese.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, I’m practically fluent.”

  The next words to come out of Dane Clark’s mouth were decidedly not English.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I asked if you understood Chinese. In Chinese.” He stared at me intently, looking curious. “Why haven’t you stayed here recently?”

  I took my time sipping the coffee before responding. “I’ve been busy at the shop. New construction crew and everything.”

  “We’re keeping the bedroom at the ready in case you should require its services. Mrs. Dulcet just went shopping for an entirely new wardrobe.”

  “Huh,” I said, pretending to be unimpressed when really I wanted nothing more than to take a nap in the bed, soak in the spaceship shower, and outfit myself in the high-quality thread counts that Mrs. Dulcet kept stocked in the walk-in closet I’d inherited during my first job for Mr. Clark.

  Dane had initially required that I live on the premises while we searched for a stolen blueprint. However, when he’d hired me on full time, I had asked Babs to read the contract and make sure it allowed for nights away from the castle. Just in case anything went south.

  “I promise you, Lola, Andrea is nothing but a business acquaintance.”

  I sighed. “I know. I shouldn’t feel jealous anyway—I was just surprised, I guess. You didn’t do a thing wrong, and I swear I’m not mad at you.”

  “Then what are you?”

  “Women are sometimes just irrational,” I said. “Well, probably me
n too. But you guys don’t have so many freaking hormones to put up with; it’s not fair!”

  “What?”

  I shook my head and gave him a quiet smile. “Andrea is a beautiful woman. She’s a model. She’s stunning, and bubbly, and fun, and...the two of you look really good together. It’s easy for me to be a little jealous, even if I know there’s nothing between the two of you.”

  “But Lola—”

  “I know I work for you, Dane, but I still really like you,” I confessed. “I know we’re not officially dating, and we’re sort of seeing where things go, but—”

  “Would you like to be officially dating?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’d sort of prefer if you don’t ask me over breakfast like a business contract.”

  “Fine.” He processed that tidbit, most likely filing it away for later. “I like you too, Lola—a lot. Not only as my personal assistant, and I’d like to see where things go if you’re up for it.”

  “I am.” I smiled, my mood vastly improved. “I’d like that a lot.”

  “Just promise me next time you feel uncomfortable about anything, you’ll tell me about it. It’s so much easier for me if you just talk to me instead of making me guess.”

  “I’ll try,” I said a bit growly. “But I can’t promise I’ll always be good at it. Sometimes I’m just crabby, and I want you to guess.”

  “That hardly seems fair.”

  “I’ll work on it,” I promised. “And you can work on reading my mind.”

  Dane looked intensely concerned, so I put him out of his misery and explained I was joking. That brought on an extensive sigh of relief.

  “Speaking of uncomfortable, I’m sorry I showed up early to work. I think I made Mrs. Dulcet uneasy because I didn’t have an appointment, and she didn’t know what to tell me.”

  Dane frowned. “She was probably confused, as am I, actually. You were supposed to receive an updated itinerary with the photoshoot included and a request to move our breakfast meeting to ten a.m. The PR team called late last night with the last-minute details for the event, and I instructed them to send you a full sheet of information.”

  “Oh, well, I didn’t receive it. Sorry.”

  Dane’s eyes flashed a shade deeper blue, and I was briefly reminded of balmy Mediterranean waters. “I’ll have a word with them.”

  “Oh, there’s no need to get anyone in trouble—”

  I was interrupted as the bubbly redhead popped herself into the dining room at that very moment. “There you two are,” Andrea said, leaning into the doorway and wrinkling her nose at the cookies on my plate. “Oh, I wish I could eat those and not have them go straight to my ass.”

  I forced a smile back. “Call it my special talent.”

  “Anyway, I just came up here to apologize.” The model winked at me, and then Dane. “I didn’t know the two of you were dating. You should know you have nothing to worry about, Lola. Dane and I are just business acquaintances.”

  “Thanks for saying that, but...don’t worry. Things are all good here.”

  “Great! Anyway, do you wanna feel? Dane wasn’t interested,” she said, puffing up her chest like a penguin. “I’m really in awe of these things. They’re new since the last photoshoot I had with Dane.”

  “I’m good.” I waved a hand. “Really. Thanks for the offer though.”

  “No problem. You two enjoy your breakfast now. I’ll see you in a few weeks, Dane.”

  Dane nodded, and I waved goodbye. Dane’s eyes never left my face throughout the entire exchange.

  “I am truly sorry if any miscommunication on my part hurt you, Lola,” he said. “I’ve nothing to hide. In fact, the only reason for the abrupt change in schedule is because my father is coming to dinner tonight, and he asked to see the prints.”

  “You really don’t have to explain, Dane.”

  “We didn’t even have a shoot on the calendar—the images aren’t needed for another few months, but my parents decided to come to town for two weeks to enjoy the Sunshine Shore festival. While here, my father will—I’m sure—attempt to run the business for me. He insists on having a hand in things despite his retirement. In fact, I doubt they want to enjoy the festivities at all and are merely using it as an excuse to check up on the company.”

  “Your father?”

  “Randall Clark.” Dane hesitated. “Do you have plans for the evening?”

  “Actually, no. Would you like me to bring something?”

  Dane cleared his throat. “Bring something where?”

  The silence was suffocating as I realized Dane had simply asked about my evening plans...to be cordial. He hadn’t invited me over to join his family—which made complete and total sense—though I’d somehow invited myself anyway. Insert desire to die.

  “Um, actually, forget it. I totally forgot I am loaded down with dinner plans tonight. So many offers I don’t know who to hang out with.” I tapped my finger against the stack of papers, willing my mouth shut. “I’ll have these back to you by four this afternoon.”

  We exchanged awkward goodbyes as I heaved the stack of contracts out of the dining room. As I left, I heard Mrs. Dulcet re-enter the room. Then I heard something that sounded like a smack to Dane’s head and a muted exclamation of pain from my boss.

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked his butler, their voices trickling through the halls. “Why on earth would Lola want to come to dinner with my parents? I thought I did her a favor by not inviting her. She said she had plans anyway.”

  “Oh, Dane,” Mrs. Dulcet said on a sigh. “Sometimes I want to shake you.”

  I hid a smile, and despite the barrage of emotions swirling through me, I couldn’t help the piece that warmed at the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes as I pictured his confusion, the curve of his lips during one of his rare smiles. If I didn’t care so much about Dane, surely nothing about this morning would have upset me—which only proved my suspicions correct.

  I was falling, and I was falling fast for Dane Clark.

  Chapter 4

  DINNER PLANS MY ASS, I thought, staring deep into the microwave as a frozen burrito circled round and round and round. When it finally dinged, I put a slab of cheese on top, sent it for another spin, and then cut in in half.

  “Perfect,” I muttered upon finding the inside frozen solid while the outside was hot enough to scorch my taste buds. “Thanks for your cooperation, beans.”

  I took the burrito over to the psychic shop area, yanking the plastic off Dotty’s most favorite cherry-red, fluffy chair as I settled in for my fine dining extravaganza.

  It was blissfully quiet. When I wasn’t woken at the crack of dawn by someone named Richard looking for help with the ladies, I rarely saw this place uninhabited by workers these days. Johnny and his crew were doing a fabulous job, but they were around a lot—all the time—and it had the side effect of making me feel like I was never truly alone.

  Until now.

  I did have my burrito to keep me company, though a single bite into the edge sent me reeling for the fire extinguisher.

  Returning the burrito to the plate, I sat back and surveyed the plastics dangling from every surface. Here in the quiet, I could almost picture the finished product. The ghosts of Dotty’s old place mingled with the promise of new life, and the effect was jarring. As if this very building was caught between life and death.

  I’d instructed Johnny to keep the bottom level of the house as open as possible so the rooms positively filled with light. We’d agreed on a small coffee bar off to the corner that’d lead into the sunglasses shop on the other side of the back wall.

  We’d leave most of the furnishing styles untouched, including Dotty’s chair and some of her beads because I wasn’t yet ready to rid the room of her things. Eventually, I’d have to take the Psychic in Pink sign down from the door and update it to Shades of Pink, the name of my soon-to-be beachy shop.

  If all went well, the place would retain the warmth, the openness of Dotty’s p
sychic practice, without the whole seeing into the future thing, since I was the worst at seeing into the future.

  Just last week I’d told my neighbor there was no chance of rain all weekend. He’d gone out of town and left his windows open only to come back and find everything in his apartment completely drenched. Whoops.

  My stomach growled, and I decided to give the burrito another chance. “Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice...” I took another bite and burned my mouth again, swearing off the pain. “Shame on me.”

  Since my dinner was not cooperating, I opted for a more productive use of my time: sunglasses shopping. Sliding the computer onto my lap, I clicked through the usual sites looking for deals. Lately, I’d been into antiques and retro-themed sunnies, enjoying the individuality of each design. Not all of them were even functional, but that’s what a collection was all about: people gathering junk they’d never use but enjoyed nonetheless.

  I’d clicked purchase on a variety of antiques, along with the newest design from Angelo—a current genius in eyewear—when the phone rang, startling me just in time to save myself from certain debt.

  Checking the time before answering the unknown number, I realized it was only quarter to eight. “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” the low voice said from the other end. “Dane Clark.”

  “What’s wrong?” I sat up straighter. “Why are you calling me instead of eating dinner with your parents?”

  “Dinner doesn’t start until nine.”

  “Oh.”

  “I need to ask a favor of you.”

  “Sure. Name it.”

  “Can you come pick me up?”

  “On my bicycle?” I frowned. “Where’s Semi?”

  “He’ll meet you at the castle and drive you. Just get into Castlewood.”

  “Okay.” I’d started heading toward the stairs to change out of my embarrassing pajamas but stopped mid-stride. “I’m confused. Where did you say you are?”

  “I’m at the police station.”

  The news hit me like a two by four, and I sat down on the staircase. “You’re kidding. Has there been a mistake?”