Girl Gone Wild

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Girl Gone Wild Page 17

by Joanne Rock


  “I think if we follow Hugh today we’ll find out where Robert is hiding. We call the cops, and while we wait, I vote we either throw rotten tomatoes at him or hurl insults. Possibly both. And if you want, we can bring some girlfriends along for moral support and additional verbal and/or triceps firepower.”

  Lainie stared back across the table at her like she had a screw loose.

  And maybe she did.

  But after a year of nearly exploding with all these negative feelings inside her, the idea of finally purging the whole mass in one swoop sounded divine.

  “You’ve lost your marbles.” Lainie made the pronouncement with her lawyer tone, but Giselle wasn’t allowing this case to be dismissed.

  “On the contrary, I’ve finally come to my senses. I’ve realized that there’s too much history between you and me to ignore it any longer. I’m deeply sorry for what happened last year, and whether you want to sit still to hear me out or not, I’m determined to apologize for being such a clueless twit.”

  Lainie was already shaking her head, her perfectly groomed blond hair not daring to move an inch. “This really isn’t necessary.”

  “Yes, it is.” Giselle wasn’t backing down this time. Not with something so important. “I screwed up by not taking time to find out more about Robert before I got involved with him. In the process I hurt you to an unforgivable degree and I just wanted you to know, out loud and for the record, how much I regret it.”

  Lainie steadied herself with a subtle grasp for the drink she’d plunked on the table earlier. She seemed to soak in this new information foisted on her against her will.

  “Anyway,” Giselle forged ahead now that she finally had her business partner’s attention. “I figured as long as I had this window of opportunity to confront Robert, I might as well share it with the woman who deserves it most. Surely you have a few choice words you’d like to say to him, too.”

  Taking another sip of her horrid looking beverage, her hand shaking just a little, Lainie cracked a smile. “I’ve conducted plenty of conversations in my head, imagining what I would say to the man if given the opportunity.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve also suppressed a few choice words you would have liked to say to me a time or two.” Giselle swallowed down the notion as bitter tasting as the green organic wonder in Lainie’s crystal goblet, remembering times when they had sat beside one another in meetings about the resort and the tension between them was palpable. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could just spill it all now and clear the air for good?”

  “Are you asking me to hurl insults and rotten tomatoes at you right here?” Lainie replaced her drink on the table.

  “Maybe it would defuse some of the tension that characterizes our usual meetings where Summer does all the talking to cover up the fact that you and I avoid one another at all costs.”

  Lainie nodded, considering. “So in effect, you’re suggesting it would improve our business relationship if I call you names?”

  Giselle shrugged although she braced herself for whatever might happen next. She’d be ready just in case Lainie decided to launch across the table for a fistful of hair. “Consider it your duty as CEO. You want our business to run as effectively as possible, don’t you? You owe it to yourself to clear the air.”

  “Very well then.” She took a deep breath. Narrowed her eyes. “You cock-sucking, home-wrecking, eyelash-batting, two-faced slut.”

  Giselle squealed, shocked that Lainie had taken her up on the offer so…completely.

  Lainie slapped a hand over her mouth as if to reclaim the words. Or—no, wait—she was simply concealing a very un-Lainie-like giggle.

  Relief trickled through Giselle, accompanied by a spark of new hope that they could put their past behind them.

  “I do not bat my eyelashes.” Giselle straightened in her chair. Sniffed. “But perhaps now we can move on with our lives?”

  Lainie smiled, unrepentant. “I know I feel a hell of a lot better.”

  “Just wait until we can both let loose on Robert.” Giselle snagged Lainie’s half-empty glass of green goo. “Although I can’t imagine how anyone could feel better after downing whatever it is you’re drinking.”

  “Summer gave me the recipe. It’s supposed to help me balance my humors. Very healthy.”

  Giselle slid the glass back across the table. “No wonder your humors are out of whack. You’re taking culinary advice from the wrong woman. You want me to make you something palatable?” Not waiting for an answer, she jumped up from the table to feel out the kitchen. “Besides, venting at Robert will cure all our humor problems. Are you with me on this?”

  Spying pineapples and orange juice in the refrigerator, Giselle went to work while Lainie seemed to think it over.

  Shoving aside her lethal-smelling drink, Lainie tapped the laminate tabletop with bright red fingernails while Giselle searched for a dash of rum and a clean glass. “Don’t you think your boyfriend is going to be pissed that we followed him?”

  “No. Actually, we’ll be doing him a favor since ethically he can’t be the one to blow the whistle on someone he’s writing a story about.” Finishing her work by swirling a scoop of vanilla-iced yogurt into the glass, Giselle slid the offering onto the kitchen table. “I won’t let him hurt his career just because he wants to help me.”

  “So the women Robert betrayed blow the whistle instead.” Lainie sipped carefully. Then gulped appreciatively. “I like it. Both the drink and the idea. In fact, I think your boyfriend may end up with a hell of a story by the time all is said and done. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Reaching across the table, Lainie extended her hand. An olive branch Giselle had never thought she’d see from her tough-as-nails partner.

  Her heart smiled, content with having made peace. While she’d never be proud of what she’d done, at least she wouldn’t run from it anymore.

  She reached across the table and clasped Lainie’s hand. Squeezed. “Then unearth your best ass-kicking boots. We’ll go face this lying, cheating two-timer together.”

  HUGH HAD AN INTERVIEW to conduct, a crook to catch, a story to write and two tough-guy types trying to muscle their way into the forefront of his job today. No way in hell did he have time to see Giselle an hour before he was supposed to meet Flynn.

  Of course, that didn’t stop him from walking into Club Paradise at 5:00 p.m. just as Giselle had requested.

  She’d called earlier, saying she needed to talk to him about something important, and he found himself ready to blow off everything else just to be with her. For a guy who’d always preferred to work alone, he sure was turning into Mr. Social. He’d visited his stepaunt, asked some guys he didn’t know from Adam to help him out with Flynn and now he was rearranging his workdays so he could be there when Giselle wanted him.

  Pathetic.

  Yet it felt so damn right to see her waiting in the lobby by the entrance to one of the resort’s three restaurants. She wore a fitted olive color skirt that highlighted slender hips. A pink tank top contrasted with the deep tan of skin she must have inherited from her Italian parents. A gold charm bracelet graced one wrist while she strode closer in high heels that appeared capable of twisting an ankle unless she maintained perfect balance.

  But it wasn’t just that she looked sexy as hell that made him want her. It was the way she sought him out in the crowd. Hugh’s eye for detail picked out the way her gaze found him the moment he entered the building. The way her expression animated. Came alive. Responded to him.

  He’d never felt that connection with a woman before, an undeniable spark that functioned even outside the bedroom. He appreciated it even as he acknowledged it scared the hell out of him.

  “Thank you for coming.” She shot him a wide smile, her white teeth and soft pink lips giving him flashbacks of the night they’d spent together and the delicious things she’d done with that mouth of hers. “Can we sit for a minute? Do you have time before your appointment?”

  Some
thing about her tone struck him as off. Nervous.

  “Sure. Are you okay?” His hand cradled her chin on instinct. He tipped her face to study her. “You look a little rattled. I hope you’re not worried about that meeting I have tonight.”

  Blinking, she shook her head even though her cheeks turned a shade more pink. “I’m not worried about your meeting. Especially since I know you would never jeopardize your reputation for the sake of locking up an egomaniac who will do himself in soon anyhow.” She cleared her throat. Fanned herself. “Maybe it’s because that restaurant reviewer is showing up tonight. I delayed requesting a review in the first place because I always panic over serving someone who could trash my cooking to the world at large.”

  He smoothed the worried furrows hovering between her eyebrows. “There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

  “That’s what Lainie says. But it doesn’t exactly comfort me when I don’t care about the publicity as much as I care what people say about my cooking.”

  She was definitely nervous, her fingers straightening imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt, her gold charm bracelet jingling and clanking with the flurry of movement.

  “So what did you want to talk about?” He led her to a quiet corner of the lobby, away from the entrance to the restaurant and closer to a conversation area of two chairs situated on either side of a low cocktail table.

  “Talk?” She looked surprised. Then understanding slid into her dark eyes and she nodded. “Oh, yes. We were going to talk.”

  “Are you sure everything’s okay?” He hadn’t been worried about his setup for Flynn tonight, but Giselle was jumpy enough for both of them.

  “Sorry. I’m just distracted and I didn’t want you to march into this meeting tonight without knowing how much I respect what you’re doing and who you are.”

  A compliment? Her nervous rambling hadn’t prepared him for something so direct. Something so damn nice. “It’s not a big deal—”

  She covered his lips with one soft finger in silent demand. “I know I was upset that you were covering this story, and I didn’t like the idea of luring Robert back here after he was courteous enough to get the hell out of my life last year. But I want you to know that was just my fears talking. I can appreciate and admire what you’re trying to do, Hugh.”

  Her eyes were so warm. So sincere.

  He would have felt twelve feet tall right now if he didn’t know damn well his Robert Flynn stories would conclude tonight, and with them, his time in South Beach came to an end. “Thanks, Giselle.” He swallowed hard, hated the thought of leaving her. “Sometimes my work is damn rewarding.”

  “You say that like it isn’t always.” Her gaze narrowed. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve heard you imply there was anything you didn’t like about your job.”

  When had he turned so freaking transparent? Sure, sometimes it sucked to be the voice of the people, to stand up for what was right instead of doing what was easiest. Most convenient. But that didn’t change his commitment to the job.

  Still, he couldn’t afford to get into that right now, not with a sensitive interview to conduct—this one, the most in-depth about Flynn’s life of crime yet. Not to mention, he had a trap to set.

  “Maybe we can talk about it later.” He skimmed his hand across her cheek, needing the reminder of her softness. “Can I see you when I finish up tonight?”

  She hesitated. “We’ll definitely see each other.” Gesturing vaguely around the lobby, she smiled. “I’ll be around.”

  “Then I’ll stop by here afterward and we can talk.” Really talk. He owed her the truth about when he’d be leaving. His haste to boot Flynn out of her life and into jail had helped him write his stories in record time, but it had also meant he had no more reason to hang out in South Beach.

  Her smile lacked its usual firepower, almost as if she sensed their conversation would be something neither of them would enjoy. “I suppose we will need to talk.” She leaned closer, brushing a featherlight kiss across his cheek. “Just don’t forget, no matter what happens, I’m grateful to you.”

  He wondered if she’d be grateful once she knew he’d corralled her brother’s help. Peering down at his watch, Hugh realized he’d lingered here with her longer than he’d intended. “My pleasure. I’ve got to run if I’m going to snag that interview.” He stepped back, already missing the scent of her. “I’ll see you later?”

  He hotfooted his way to the door, not wanting to miss the car that was supposed to pick him up just a block north on Ocean Drive.

  But he heard Giselle’s overbright words as he walked away.

  “I bet it will be sooner than you think.”

  15

  ANXIETY FLICKERED THROUGH HER as she watched Hugh walk away. She’d told Lainie that Hugh would welcome their help turning Robert in to the police, yet she hadn’t shared the plan with him. This way, Hugh could honestly claim he had no knowledge of his covert interview about to be exposed.

  Still, she’d never been the type to keep secrets. Staying silent now went against the grain.

  With no time to rethink the strategy she’d already assured herself was sound, Giselle punched the Redial button on her cell phone in a prearranged signal to alert Lainie that Hugh was exiting the resort. Giselle lit into motion to follow him via a shortcut out the side door, hanging up the phone after giving Lainie the single-ring heads-up.

  Her coconspirator waited for her in a car on Ocean Drive, easily accessed from the side entrance to one of the resort’s restaurants.

  Giselle had her eye on her destination, certain she could be sliding into the passenger seat beside Lainie well before Hugh turned the key in his ignition.

  Until a man intercepted her between two tables in the back—a man it took her a moment to realize was the food critic she’d met at the Herald. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.

  Smiling, the restaurant reviewer stepped directly in her path, putting himself a bit too close for comfort. “Ms. Cesare, I found a free night in my schedule to try one of your establishments. Would you care to join me and provide the expert’s eye view on what the kitchen delivers to my table?”

  A flurry of curse words exploded in her brain, none of which she said aloud. If she blew off the reviewer, her professional reputation would be shot. But if she didn’t get out the door posthaste, Robert would escape, she’d never be able to prove to Hugh that she was capable of taking care of herself and she would deliver the deathblow to a fragile relationship she was only just beginning to carve out with Lainie. There had to be a way to juggle this.

  “I wouldn’t want to compromise your journalistic integrity by swaying you with my own opinions.” Latching on to one of Hugh’s phrases, she hoped it would be enough to dissuade the critic. “Why don’t I call you tomorrow and we can review the menu after you’ve had time to digest it at your leisure?”

  Seconds clicked by with agonizing slowness while she prayed she wasn’t jeopardizing her culinary future.

  But she’d been so engrossed in honing her preparation skills last year that she’d ceased to absorb the rest of the world around her. Had failed to even notice the prominent businessman wooing her was married to an equally prominent local attorney. She wouldn’t indulge her professional dreams to the detriment of real life again.

  Before the surprised reviewer could come up with his own alternative to her suggestion, Giselle gave him one of the schmoozy fake-air kisses that served as a hallmark of polite pretension in her business. “Bon appetit.”

  Turning on her heel, she sprinted the last few steps to the exit just as her cell phone started to ring.

  Lainie.

  Plowing through the heavy door, she spotted her partner inside a low-slung silver sports car, red fingernails drumming the steering wheel as she gripped a phone in one hand.

  “I’m here,” Giselle shouted across the sidewalk, her shoes pounding pavement with high heel snapping force. “He should have come out the front door two minutes ago.” She sli
d into the front seat and slammed the door behind her, refusing to think about the consequences of ignoring the food critic.

  Right now, she only had one mission.

  “I saw him.” Lainie dropped her phone onto the dashboard and kept her eyes focused out the front windshield as she spoke. “He’s about six cars ahead, leaning down into that big fat black Cadillac talking to someone.”

  They had arranged for Lainie to be sitting in the car when Hugh first arrived at the resort at five o’clock so they could follow him once he left. Giselle craned her neck to get a better view up the street. Scanning tourists and hotel guests, beachgoers and inline skaters filling the sidewalk, she finally spied Hugh’s broad back tapering down to well-worn khakis.

  “I see him.” She wouldn’t mistake that rear view anywhere. “And it’s six o’clock now. How much do you want to bet that’s Robert he’s talking to in there?”

  “Or it could be someone who will take him to Robert.” Lainie shifted in the seat beside her.

  And squeaked.

  Turning to snag a glance at her partner, Giselle realized she was clad in skintight black leather pants. Leather boots with silver reinforced toes. Platform heels that weren’t just high, they were also sturdy as hell.

  The silky white embroidered tank top Lainie wore with her leather did little to diminish the picture.

  “I see you dressed for the venture.” She couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice. “I like the leather.”

  “Not only am I ready to kick ass, I’m also showcasing the five pounds I’ve lost since that loser robbed us all blind.”

  And since the scumbag cheated on her. God, Giselle couldn’t begin to imagine how much that would hurt long after the fact.

  “Well, those pants practically broadcast ‘eat your heart out’ in flashing neon. Good for you.” They watched the action up the street as Hugh entered the backseat of the Cadillac.

  “Marriage taught me that subtlety is wasted on men.” Lainie eased the car out into traffic a few vehicles behind the Caddy. “I figured if I was going to make a statement, I needed to be obvious.”

 

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