I was bent over a piece of the headboard, spraying touch-ups, when Michelle stepped out onto the back patio. It was mid-week, and the house was a hive of activity.
“Hi, boss. Got the barbeque for the crew’s lunch break.”
The sun shone in my eyes when I looked up. I flinched and placed a hand on my forehead to shade the glare. “Glad you’re back. The boys are getting hungry. I’m about finished with this headboard. Jack said he’d hang it after lunch.”
“Sure thing. Is there … anything else?”
I straightened. “Javier’s working on the tile in the bathroom. Why don’t you take a moment to check it out?”
“Umm hmm. Annnyythiiiing else?” She wiggled her brows at me.
“What are you getting at, Michelle?”
“This.” She slapped a magazine down on the granite outdoor bar.
“What’s that?” My head tilted. I walked over to see what she was talking about.
A stubby pink fingernail stabbed at two photos on page three of a tabloid. I dug in my back pocket for my reading glasses so I could get a better look.
One was a grainy picture of Ian and me outside of the furniture store in Burbank. He held the car door and my eyes were locked on him. The headline read “Baby on Board.” A short caption beneath the photo asked “Is handsome hunk Ian O’Connor off the market? He was spotted with an unidentified woman shopping for cribs. Are congratulations in order?” The second photo showed Ian’s arm around my waist as he held the door while we entered Giovanni’s.
Steam shot out of my ears. I held the tabloid closer. “What the hell? What the hell! Ian’s right. The press just makes shit up. They don’t even sell baby furniture at that store.” I threw the paper down.
“So, you’re not pregnant?”
I gave her a squinty-eyed stare that could strip wallpaper off a wall.
“I guess that’s a no.”
“You’re damn right that’s a no.”
“Hey.” She put her hands up defensively. “What do I know? Ian’s a hottie. I thought maybe you two were doing the knicky-knacky on the side, you know?”
“We are not doing the knicky-knacky. I don’t do the knicky-knacky with clients.” At least not yet.
“Okay. Okay. So, what are you going to do?”
I blew out a puff of air. “I suppose I should call him. I wonder if he knows.”
“I’ll just give you some privacy.” Michelle tiptoed back into the house, and I pulled the cell out of my pocket.
“Hello? Is that you, Sophie?” Ian bellowed into the phone over the background sounds of wind and traffic.
“Ian?” I spoke loudly. “Um, I think we have a problem.”
“What? I can’t hear you. Let me call you back.” Click.
My fingers drummed impatiently on the offensive piece of yellow journalism. The phone trilled the opening theme song to LA Heat. “Ian?”
“I stepped inside. What do you need?”
“Listen, I’m sorry to interrupt your work, but I think we have a problem.”
“Okay. Something wrong at the house?”
“No. The house is fine. I’m holding a copy of the Star tabloid, and there’s a photo of us from Saturday. It says you were shopping for a baby crib and indicates we’re having a baby.” I read the headline and caption for him.
The news met silence.
“Hello? Are you still there?”
“I am. I’m sorry about this—”
I cut him off. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were right that these tabloids just make stuff up.”
“They do indeed.”
“What should we do about it? If my mom gets wind of this, I’m doomed.” Thoughts of my mom’s reaction made my voice pitch with panic.
“I’ll phone my manager.”
“He’s going to say you should have hired a publicist to deal with this type of garbage.” My shoes slapped against the concrete as I paced.
“You’re probably right. If we ignore it, it might go away. If I stir things up, it might get worse.”
“How can it get worse?” I whimpered. “They basically called me a fat cow. Do I look pregnant to you? Never mind, don’t answer that.”
“No, luv. You don’t look preggers. If you do, the buggers probably Photoshopped it.”
The picture showed me in profile and my jacket billowed in front. The wind must have kicked up at the exact moment the photo was taken.
“Do you want my manager to have them retract the statement?”
I blew out a sigh.
“Soph?”
“No. You’re right. My name’s not even mentioned. And they didn’t actually make a statement, only conjecture. It’ll probably get worse if we make a big deal about it.”
A girl’s voice called Ian’s name in the background.
“You need to get back to work.”
“Call me if you want me to do something about it. Okay?”
“Ian, they need you on set,” the voice said closer.
“I’ll be with you in two shakes.” His voice faded out as he spoke to whoever called his name, then it came back full volume. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be fine. Get back to work. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“You’re never a bother. Call me if you change your mind.”
The tantalizing scent of tangy barbeque danced across my olfactory senses when I entered the house. The conversation cut off. Jack, Javier, Michelle, and three other crew members huddled around the kitchen island harfing down pork sandwiches and fries, studiously ignoring me.
“All right. Out with it.” I popped my left hip forward and crossed my arms.
“Out with what?” Michelle asked with wide-eyed innocence.
“Let’s hear it. I know you were talking about the tabloid.”
“So, boss, what color will we be painting the baby’s room?” Jack deadpanned.
The crew broke up.
“Is that all you got?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Ian and Sophie sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Michelle sang. Jack joined in, and their voices rose together to sing the finale, “A baby in a baby carriage!”
Everyone clapped and made kissy noises.
I mashed my lips together. “Are you done now?”
“Lady, I’m just getting started.” Jack guffawed then continued, “We’ll be dining out on this for weeks. Maybe months.”
“Okay, let’s get this straight right now. There is no baby on the way.” I pointed at Michelle’s grinning face. “And there is no knicky-knacky going on.”
“So, who’s the hold out on the knicky-knacky?”
The crew’s laughter scorched my ears. Michelle handed me a foil-wrapped sandwich.
“Here,” Javier held out his half-eaten lunch toward me. “Do you want mine also, since you’re eating for two, Missus Sophie?”
“Ha, ha. You guys are a laugh riot. I’m going to eat outside.” I swept out with as much dignity as I could muster; their snickers followed me out the door.
• • •
Six hours later I steered out of Ian’s driveway; the gate rolled closed behind me. Across the street stood a man next to a bright yellow crotch rocket, a camera held up to his eye. Luckily, I wore large sunglasses and my CR-V had tinted windows. Still, I shot into the street and whizzed down the road at a fast clip. At the first red light, I texted Ian.
BTW paparazzi vultures stationed outside your house.
My cell sing-songed “Let’s Get this Party Started,” by The Black Eyed Peas. I tapped my Bluetooth.
“Hey, Poppy,” I chirped happily. Both our schedules had been so crazy, and Poppy had taken a ten-day vacation to Maui with Angel, so we hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Except for the two phone calls pestering me to attend her Halloween party, we hadn’t spoken recently either. Our communication had been limited to brief texts and comments via Facebook status.
“What’s this I hear? You’re having Ian’s love child?”
“Did Michelle call you?”
“Michelle? No. My assistant, Cody, showed me the photo in Star. You’re doing the nasty with Ian?”
“We’re not. We were shopping for a sofa.”
“So, you two aren’t humping like rabbits?”
“Not right now.”
“Oooo. That’s a loaded response.”
“Shesh. You’re as bad as Michelle and Jack.”
“What does Michelle know that I don’t?”
“She knows nothing. Because there is nothing to tell,” I enunciated. “I just spent the entire afternoon putting up with wisecracks from the crew. Don’t you start.”
The whine of a motorcycle made me check the rearview mirror, but I couldn’t see where it was coming from.
“You didn’t answer my question. Are you and Ian planning to do the dirty mambo soon?”
I realized, beyond texting Poppy that Ian and Tanqueray weren’t an item, we hadn’t spoken about him much at all. “We’re not planning anything. Maybe we’ll have a date after the reno is finished.”
“Maybe you’ll have a date?”
“Yes, if he hasn’t started seeing someone else.”
“Does he want to date you?”
“Um. Yes.”
“Girl! What is wrong with you? Say yes! Go on a date with that fine man.”
“I don’t date clients.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“No. If I go out with him, I will totally sleep with him, and how would that look if I’m working for him? Think what would happen if he woke up the next morning and wanted to gnaw his arm off.”
“Come off it. You’re not coyote ugly.”
“You know what I mean. What if, in the light of the morning, he sees my wiggly parts and totally regrets doing the nasty? Or worse, the sex sucks and he asks me to leave immediately afterward?”
“He’s a man. I’ve told you before, men like boobs. They like something to grab on to. You’re not a fat cow. You’re shaped like a woman.” This coming from a gorgeous redhead the size of a toothpick. “And with a man like that, the sex has got to be smokin’.”
“If it’s not, it would be awkward spending an entire month working on his house. We’d play the avoidance game. He could fire me. So, we made a deal—no dating, no hanky-panky until the reno is finished.”
“Wait a minute. When did you make this deal?”
“Just before we started. The night I showed him the design board.”
“So, something happened that night.”
“Nothing. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Spill.”
“We kissed.”
A shriek split my eardrum. “You kissed Ryder McKay! Omigod! Was it a good kiss?”
My cheeks dimpled. “Yup.”
Poppy was silent. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
“Yup.”
“That’s it. I’m coming over tonight. It’s been forever and a day since we’ve seen each other, and clearly we have things to catch up on.”
“Fine. Come on over around eight and bring a bottle of wine. I only have one.”
“Do you want red or white?”
“How about a cab sauv?”
“I’ll look. There were bottles left over from the Halloween blow-out you refused to attend. See you about eight.”
I continued to glance at the mirror on my drive home. Nothing. Taking precautions, I drove by the house to see if there were any camera-wielding sharks before I pulled into the garage.
My sense of relief was short-lived. A whirr and clicking noise made me turn away from the mailbox at my front door.
“Do you know the sex of the baby?”
It was the same man I’d seen across from Ian’s house. I scanned the street and located the yellow motorbike about four houses down. My eyes got squinty. “Did you follow me home? Are you stalking me? There are laws against that, you know.”
The camera clicked three more times. “What’s your name? How long have you and Ian O’Connor been dating? Are you living together?” He peppered me with questions.
The realization that this wasn’t going to “go away” backhanded me like a tennis racket. I decided to meet the problem head on.
“Are you recording our conversation?”
“No, but I can.” He whipped out a cell from his back pocket. “Shoot.”
I pulled the phone up close to my mouth and deliberately enunciated each word. “There is no scoop. I am not having an affair with Mr. O’Connor. I am the proprietor of Hartland Designs, and I’m an interior decorator, working for Mr. O’Connor. We were not shopping for cribs, we were shopping for sofas. That store doesn’t even carry baby furniture. If you’re in the market for a decorator, look me up. I’m in the phone book. One more thing, if your paper prints any more lies, Mr. O’Connor and I will sue you.” I flipped the mailbox shut. “Also, get off my porch. This is private property.” I banged the front door in the stranger’s face.
Sirius danced in from the backyard with his tail wagging and tongue licking to worship at my feet. Everyone should get a dog. They provided unconditional love and never cheated on you. I scratched behind his ears.
“Who’s a good dog? Do you want your dinner?”
Sirius went into an ecstatic frenzy, huffing and snorting at the word dinner, and nosed his empty dish across the floor. While I poured kibble in his bowl, I debated whether or not to call Ian. Perhaps recording the conversation wasn’t such a smart thing. The press was known for taking quotes out of context. Cripes, they could rearrange all my words and make it sound like I was the proprietor of a whorehouse providing services to Ian. The possibility of more lies being printed worried me, so I called him.
“Hello, luv. I got your text. It looks like we’ll be working late tonight, so the vulture will probably have buggered off by the time I get home.”
“Oh, I’m sure he will have buggered off by then.”
“What happened?”
“He followed me home and snuck up on my front porch and hammered me with questions while I was getting the mail.” It all came out in a rush.
“Fuckin’ ’ell!” Ian spat out in a growly voice I’d never heard.
I was taken aback by his vehemence. There was silence on the other end. “Ian?” I said in a small voice.
“I’m still here,” he ground out.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I checked my rearview mirror, but I didn’t see him following me.”
“Sophie.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not angry with you. I’m angry those fucknuggets followed you home, and I’m trying not to blow a gasket here.”
I’d never heard Ian curse like that, two fucks in the span of thirty seconds. He must be super pissed. “Oh. Well, there’s really just one guy. I, uh, spoke to him. I think you may want to talk to your manager.”
“What did you say?”
I explained our conversation and told him about the recording.
“Since they’re following you, this is obviously not going to go away, luv.”
“I know. It’s not your fault. The media is voracious.”
“Make sure to set your security system.”
“Uh, riiight.” I chewed a thumbnail.
“You don’t have a security system, do you?”
“Sure I do.”
I could hear him rub a disbelieving hand down his face through the phone lines.
“How can a single woman living in the LA area not have a security system?”
“I’m working on it. It just hasn’t come to fruition yet. I’ll call someone tomorrow to get it set up. Don’t worry. I have Sirius, and Poppy’s coming over tonight. There’s safety in numbers.”
“Sirius? Who the hell is Sirius?”
“My dog. He’s a big dog. A black Lab. He’s very protective.”
“Hold on. I’ll ring you back in ten.” He clicked off.
That was abrupt. I pulled an open bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge and filled a wineglass to its brim. The glass was empty after three gulps, and I refilled it before heading into the family room to collapse on the couch. Sirius followed me and placed his big head on the cushion next to my left hand. This was Sirius’s way of asking to be petted. I obliged. I could never refuse his sad doggie eyes.
By the time Ian called back, a warm jelly feeling floated through my limbs, my feet rested on the coffee table, and things didn’t seem so bad.
“Hel-lo.”
“A guy by the name of Hal is coming over. He’s with Galveston Security. They’re going to get you set up.”
“When are they coming?”
“In about twenty minutes.”
My feet thumped to the ground and I shot forward. “Tonight? No, no, no, no. Poppy’s coming over. We’re having a girl’s evening. I plan to drink an entire bottle of wine. Call Hal back and tell him to come tomorrow.”
“Either Hal’s coming over or I am,” he threatened.
I switched tactics and said in my best sex kitten voice, “Is that a promise, baby?”
Ian sighed. “You’re killing me. You need a security system, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to get away from the studio. If I come over tonight, everything you told the paparazzi will become a lie. Do you really want that?”
Did I want that? Yes. “No.”
“Please let Hal in when he shows up. Otherwise, I’m going to worry.” Guilt welled up for making him worry. “Okay. Hal can come in, but I’m still drinking a bottle of wine.”
“Hey, feel free to get pissed. Just don’t complain to me if you’ve got a foul head in the morning.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“You’re going to let Hal in to do his job. Right?”
“Whatever you say.”
“Promise me, Sophia Hartland.”
“Jeez. I promise.”
Don’t worry, luv. This will all get sorted out.”
My other line beeped. “I trust you. I’ve got to go. My mom’s on the other line. I hope she’s not calling about the tabloid. Bye.”
“Keep your mobile close. I’ll ring you later.”
I clicked over to the other line. “Hi, Mom.”
“Is it true?”
“I’m assuming you’re speaking of the pregnancy rumors.”
“Pregnancy? What? Are you pregnant?”
“Never mind. And no, I’m not pregnant. What are you calling about?”
“Holly left a message telling me she was going skiing at Thanksgiving.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. You can come visit me. We’ll have a nice dinner here. I’ll invite some friends over.”
“I don’t care what Holly says, I’m going to Vegas at Christmas. They can’t keep me away from my granddaughter at Christmastime.”
“I’m sure Holly will welcome you at Christmas.”
The doorbell rang. Sirius popped up and stampeded to the door with a bark.
“I’ve got to go. Poppy just arrived. I’ll call you this weekend to work out our Thanksgiving plans. Love you.”
Poppy wasn’t at my door. A cute, russet-haired guy with a baby face, wearing a blue polo and a Galveston Security logo stood on my front stoop. He took a step back when he caught sight of Sirius through the storm door. I grasped him by the collar, a precaution I always took with Sirius. Contrary to what I’d told Ian, he greeted everyone with a pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth and a flapping tail. If I allowed it, Sirius would most likely knock a visitor down and lick them silly rather than attack. Only on rare occasions did he take a dislike to someone, and I’m pretty sure he could be easily bribed with treats.
“Let me guess. Hal?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s me. Hal Pretsky at your service.” He held out a set of credentials.
Sure enough, his credentials identified him as Hal Pretsky, Security Technician. I estimated his age to be mid-twenties.
“Come in. I assume you’ll assess my needs tonight and we’ll schedule the install after that.”
“No, ma’am.” He followed me into the hall. “Mr. O’Connor wants the system installed tonight. My partner’s bringing another truck with the equipment.”
“Tonight! How long will that take?”
“Depends. It normally takes half a day or more.”
“Listen, tonight you can give me an estimate, and we’ll get it installed tomorrow.”
He tugged his ear. “Mr. O’Connor was pretty adamant. He wanted the system installed tonight.”
“Uhn.” I smacked my forehead. “Okay, Hal. I’m having company over, and it’s too late to do a full install. Just tell me what I need, and you can come back bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“But Mr. O’Connor … ”
“Look, pal, what Mr. O’Connor doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“I guess we could come back early tomorrow.”
“Great. What time?”
“Seven.”
“Make it eight. If you come at seven, I might have to kill you. Now, go call your buddy and tell him to get a good night’s sleep.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He trotted out the front door, dialing along the way.
I was going to have to put an end to that. I hated when people ma’amed me. It made me feel like my grandmother. The guy couldn’t be more than five years younger than me.
The doorbell chimed, again. Sirius barked, again. I grabbed his collar … again.
This time it was Poppy, dressed casually in jeans, sneakers, and a pumpkin wrap top.
“What’s with the dude in your front yard?” She gave me a peck on the cheek and breezed past me down the hall to the kitchen. Sirius and I followed in her wake of Channel No. 5.
“He’s my security system tech.”
“Oh yeah? What kind of security system are you getting?”
“Whatever Hal says I need.”
Poppy picked up the wine glass I’d left on the counter for her. “Mine?”
I nodded. “There’s an open pinot in the fridge. Did you bring the cab sauv?”
She removed a bottle from a Trader Joe’s paper bag and brandished it at me. “I also have Oreos, sweet potato chips, grapes, and Brie to heat up. I assume you have crackers.”
The doorbell rang.
“Top shelf of the pantry.” I left Poppy to warm up our dinner and trailed Sirius back to the front door. It was Hal.
“Did you call your buddy and tell him to come tomorrow?”
“Yes. It’s all set for eight.”
“Then come on in.” I led Hal into the kitchen, where he instantly fell in love with Poppy. He might have drooled. Sometimes I forgot what her perfect figure, striking face, and flaming hair did to ordinary guys.
“So, Hal.” I snapped him out of his trance. “Why don’t you cruise around the house and figure out what needs to be done then get back to me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stuttered and backed out of the kitchen, taking his eyes off Poppy at the last minute
“Let’s get comfy on the couch and we’ll catch up.” I scooped up the chips and cookie bag in one hand and the pinot grigio in the other. Poppy got the rest. We laid our bounty on the coffee table and dropped down on the couch. Sirius shoved himself past my legs, parked his butt between the two of us and proceeded to stare and drool at the coffee table fare.
“Here’s to new men in our lives,” Poppy toasted.
We clinked glasses.
“Wait. What new men?”
“Angel and I broke up.”
“What? What do you mean you broke up? You just spent ten days on the beaches of Maui with him. What happened?”
“Correction. We spent four days.”
“What happened? I’m out of the loop.” I made a swirly motion with my forefinger.
Poppy gave a dramatic sigh. “He snuck out at one in the morning to screw the Australian surf instructor and thought I wouldn’t notice. By the time he returned at five, his luggage was in the hallway and the front desk was kind enough to change the key card for me.”
I snorted wine through my nose, and tears burned my eyes. “Where did he go?”
“I have no idea. Probably back to the surf instructor. I don’t know. She didn’t show up at the hotel after that.”
“Does he have any of his stuff at your house?”
“Not anymore.” She winked at me with sly nonchalance.
“What did you do?”
“Had a bonfire in the backyard.”
My eyes popped wide. “Damn. When?”
“After the Halloween party. I thought it was a good time for a fire.”
“I’m sorry I missed it. Did you have any stuff at his place?”
“Tsk. Puh-lease. That man-child rented a room in a fleabag townhome with four other smelly men. I went in the house only once.”
“Weren’t you heartbroken? Why didn’t you call me?”
Poppy waved her wineglass. “Not really. He was starting to bore me. I mean, he had that sexy bad boy image going on, but …. Besides, when I showed up on the beach the next morning sans boyfriend, it was easy to meet men. As a matter of fact, I had my own little vacation fling with a dermatologist from Ohio.”
“Ohio?”
“Just a sec. I have a picture on my phone.” She headed to the kitchen to retrieve her purse.
Hal walked in. “I have a few recommendations for your security system.”
“Have a seat, Hal. Would you like something to eat? Can I get you a soda or glass of water?”
He shook his head. “No thanks. I’m fine.” He unfolded a brochure, handed it to me and sat in the club chair next to me. “As you can see, we offer both hard-wire and wireless security systems.” Hal proceeded to outline the pros and cons of each system.
Poppy returned to her seat and waited patiently while Hal droned on.
I stopped him mid-spiel. “Hal, I’m gonna stop you there. Let’s cut to the chase. Did you install Mr. O’Connor’s system?”
“Yes. I was on the team that installed his system.”
“So you’re a trustworthy fellow. Right?”
“Yes, I’d consider myself trustworthy.”
“Then just tell me what you’d recommend to, say … your sister or mother.”
“Combo wireless and hard-wired. Touch pads at the front and back doors. Wire all your windows and doors. A couple of glass—”
I put my palm up and Hal stopped. “Whatever you say. It all sounds good.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t done this already.” Poppy said.
“There didn’t seem to be an urgent need until today.” I turned back to Hal. “What will this set me back?”
Hal tugged his ear. A habit he seemed to have when uncomfortable. “Um … Mr. O’Connor gave us his credit card and told us to put in a top of the line system.”
Poppy squeaked.
I rolled my eyes. “I can pay for my own system.”
More ear tugging. “My boss told me, under no circumstances were you to pay for the system … ” His voice trailed off.
I huffed. “It’s a conspiracy. So, what will this set Ian back?”
“I’m not sure I’m supposed to tell you.”
“Cripes.” I threw up my hands.
Hal’s eyes ping-ponged back and forth between Poppy and me, but he remained mum.
My cell chimed Ian’s ringtone. Perfect!
“Hello, Ian.”
“Did Hal show up yet?”
“Yes, he did, as a matter of fact. I’m glad you called. It seems we’re having a problem with the bill.”
“What’s the problem, luv?”
“They won’t let me pay it. Hal’s under the impression you’re paying for my new security system.”
Silence.
“Ian?”
“I feel responsible.”
I didn’t want to have this discussion in front of Hal and Poppy, so I moved to the kitchen. “This is so not your responsibility. It’s my home. I can pay for my own security system.”
“Look, we both know if I wasn’t who I am, none of this paparazzi rubbish would be happening, and your dog would be all the security you’d need.”
“Even so, it’s not right having you pay for this. I don’t rely on men to pay for my things.” Michael had “paid” for things, too. Only as I found out later, he’d just piled it on a credit card. Whatever the case, I didn’t need a man to pay for my stuff.
“I can afford it.”
“So can I,” I replied stubbornly.
“Soph, I need to go. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Bye.” He hung up.
“Chicken!” I bellowed at the phone.
Fine. Two people can play this game. I marched back to the family room and stood in the doorway, hands on hips. “Hal, go ahead and charge Mr. O’Connor’s credit card, but I expect to see a final reckoning. Clear?”
He jumped out of his seat. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll be here at seven tomorrow.”
“Eight!” I barked.
“Eight.” Hal gathered his things and scurried out the door.
I flopped on the couch, stuffed a cookie in my pie hole and chased it with the rest of the wine in my glass. Poppy refilled me with the cabernet sauvignon.
“So, let’s see this dentist from Ohio.”
“Dermatologist.” Poppy passed me her phone. The picture showed Poppy looking fabulous in a blue bikini, wrapped around a smiling dirty blond man wearing sunglasses and flowered board shorts with fabulous biceps. His skin was almost as fair as Poppy’s. They looked adorable together.
“Mm. He’s a cutie. I can see why you went for him. Did you exchange phone numbers?”
“Yes. But, it won’t go anywhere. It was just a fling.” She shrugged and popped a grape in her mouth.
“Hm … ” I flipped through some more of the Maui photos. Poppy remained pale, the dermatologist darkened to a medium tan.
“So, what the hell’s going on? Why is Ian O’Connor paying for your security system?”
“Uhn.” I flopped my head back against the couch. “A paparazzi vulture followed me home from his house and pounced when I got the mail. Ian was pissed and concerned for my safety.”
“That sucks.”
“Tell me about it. He probably got some hideous photos of me giving him the evil eye.”
“What are you going to do about the bill?”
“I’m going to take it out of my design fee.”
“Smart thinking.”
“That’s me. Always using my noggin.” I tapped my forehead.
“When are you going to let him into your pants?”
“Poppy!” I winged a chip at her head. “You’re so crude.”
“I don’t know what you’re waiting for.” She plucked the chip out of her hair and crunched down.
I groaned. “The renovations will be finished in a few weeks. It’ll happen soon. Then at least if it goes nowhere, I’m not working in his house every day.”
“I think you’re nuts. I would have shagged him seven ways from Sunday by now,” she replied in her best English accent.
“Trust me. It’s not easy. I keep making an ass of myself.” I told her about the swimming pool accident and the phone conversation with my mom I was pretty sure Ian had heard. Poppy laughed hysterically.
We talked until we were hoarse and the wine bottles empty. She told me about the wicked things she did with her dermatologist in Hawaii, while I poured all of my doubts and uncertainties about Ian and my own insecurities into her ears. I wanted him, no doubt about it, but I my emotions were starting to play a role, and it worried me. I put her up in my guest room, and when I fell into bed, it was just past midnight.