What’s your sign?”
“Aries. How about you?”
“Oh, dear, not one that’s compatible with yours. And you seemed so perfect, too.” With a regretful sigh, she started to close the door.
“Wait!” Straightening, he gave her a self-deprecating smile. “You can’t hold that against me. Heck, you don’t even know what house my moon is in, or anything. It could make all the difference.”
“Why, that’s true. What time were you born?”
He told her and she gave a thoughtful, “Hmm,” then reached out to touch his wrist. “What do you do for a living, John?”
“I’m an accountant.”
Her brow furrowed. “Oh.”
“And a financial planner.”
“ Really. Oooh, I just love money.” Leaning against the edge of the open door, she slid her hand up the smooth wood until her arm curved overhead, her palm flat against its interior panel. “So tell me,” she said, watching him eye the outside curve of her breast that the pose exposed. “When it comes to long-term investment, what mix of high, medium, and low caps do you recommend for a stock portfolio? And what’s your take on index mutual funds?”
His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “Uh…”
“Don’t,” she admonished gently, “confuse blond hair and breasts with stupidity.”
He gave her a perplexed look. “Ma’am?”
“At least Zach’s up front in his enmity. The next time you try out your aw-shucks-golly routine, I suggest you cover up that.” She nodded at the mostly red tattoo on his arm, which his change in position had made clearly visible. Outlined in black, it contained the words Swift, Silent, and Deadly on three sides of a white skull with black and yellow markings, and 2d Recon Bn inscribed across the bottom. Looking up into eyes gone abruptly hard, she assured him crisply, “It truly does detract from the image.” Then, giving the panel beneath her hand a push, she closed the door in his face.
She had a feeling her blood pressure was in the red zone. As if things weren’t bad enough already, the lousy ratfinks were double-teaming her! Too restless to go back to her packing, she paced her room for several tense moments.
Then she abruptly stopped in the middle of the room. She had to get out of here before she did something stupid like scream her head off. A walk on the beach would cool her down, but if she wanted to kill two birds with one stone she should probably grab a newspaper and head up the coast highway to the Koffee Klatch, where she could read the apartment listings in peace. A nice, nonhostile environment sounded like just the ticket. She grabbed her purse from the dresser top where she’d tossed it a short while ago and let herself out of the room.
When she let herself back in several hours later, the sun had disappeared over the horizon in a blazing ball of orange and red, and she was calmer—if no closer to having another place to stay than when she’d left. There had only been one apartment in the ads worth pursuing, and by the time she’d gotten over to check it out someone else had already snatched it up.
Well, there was always the internet, but she’d get to that later. The walls of her room were already closing in, and unwilling to act as if she had anything to hide, she marched down the hall, braced to brave the duel condemnation of Zach and his underhanded friend. But the kitchen was empty and the entire house had a deserted feel. She dished up a bowl of ice cream and took it into the den, where she settled into a chair and turned on the news. A short while later, she turned it off again. Beyond a fleeting impression of an impending air-traffic controllers’ strike and a murder-suicide in Newport Beach, she had no idea what she’d just viewed. Shecleaned her dish in the kitchen, then went out on the terrace to listen to the surf.
Usually she found the susurrus of waves against sand a hypnotic lullaby, but tonight it failed to soothe her, and she decided to call it a day. Tomorrow would be
“Aries. How about you?”
“Oh, dear, not one that’s compatible with yours. And you seemed so perfect, too.” With a regretful sigh, she started to close the door.
“Wait!” Straightening, he gave her a self-deprecating smile. “You can’t hold that against me. Heck, you don’t even know what house my moon is in, or anything. It could make all the difference.”
“Why, that’s true. What time were you born?”
He told her and she gave a thoughtful, “Hmm,” then reached out to touch his wrist. “What do you do for a living, John?”
“I’m an accountant.”
Her brow furrowed. “Oh.”
“And a financial planner.”
“ Really. Oooh, I just love money.” Leaning against the edge of the open door, she slid her hand up the smooth wood until her arm curved overhead, her palm flat against its interior panel. “So tell me,” she said, watching him eye the outside curve of her breast that the pose exposed. “When it comes to long-term investment, what mix of high, medium, and low caps do you recommend for a stock portfolio? And what’s your take on index mutual funds?”
His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “Uh…”
“Don’t,” she admonished gently, “confuse blond hair and breasts with stupidity.”
He gave her a perplexed look. “Ma’am?”
“At least Zach’s up front in his enmity. The next time you try out your aw-shucks-golly routine, I suggest you cover up that.” She nodded at the mostly red tattoo on his arm, which his change in position had made clearly visible. Outlined in black, it contained the words Swift, Silent, and Deadly on three sides of a white skull with black and yellow markings, and 2d Recon Bn inscribed across the bottom. Looking up into eyes gone abruptly hard, she assured him crisply, “It truly does detract from the image.” Then, giving the panel beneath her hand a push, she closed the door in his face.
She had a feeling her blood pressure was in the red zone. As if things weren’t bad enough already, the lousy ratfinks were double-teaming her! Too restless to go back to her packing, she paced her room for several tense moments.
Then she abruptly stopped in the middle of the room. She had to get out of here before she did something stupid like scream her head off. A walk on the beach would cool her down, but if she wanted to kill two birds with one stone she should probably grab a newspaper and head up the coast highway to the Koffee Klatch, where she could read the apartment listings in peace. A nice, nonhostile environment sounded like just the ticket. She grabbed her purse from the dresser top where she’d tossed it a short while ago and let herself out of the room.
When she let herself back in several hours later, the sun had disappeared over the horizon in a blazing ball of orange and red, and she was calmer—if no closer to having another place to stay than when she’d left. There had only been one apartment in the ads worth pursuing, and by the time she’d gotten over to check it out someone else had already snatched it up.
Well, there was always the internet, but she’d get to that later. The walls of her room were already closing in, and unwilling to act as if she had anything to hide, she marched down the hall, braced to brave the duel condemnation of Zach and his underhanded friend. But the kitchen was empty and the entire house had a deserted feel. She dished up a bowl of ice cream and took it into the den, where she settled into a chair and turned on the news. A short while later, she turned it off again. Beyond a fleeting impression of an impending air-traffic controllers’ strike and a murder-suicide in Newport Beach, she had no idea what she’d just viewed. Shecleaned her dish in the kitchen, then went out on the terrace to listen to the surf.
Usually she found the susurrus of waves against sand a hypnotic lullaby, but tonight it failed to soothe her, and she decided to call it a day. Tomorrow would be
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