He told himself she was joking about them becoming lovers. Well, mostly. “Gail, you’re one hell of a woman and gorgeous to boot, but alas, you’re a client.” This had been his script for years. Her scene was up next.
Her dramatic sigh made the white feathers on her boa sway like a willow in a summer breeze. “Oh, Vander! You always disappoint me with that answer. I’ve been asking you since I got rid of that bastard ex-husband of mine. Need I remind you, I’m only ten years older than you. That’s not much, is it, dahling?”
“Gail, you propositioned me after you divorced your first husband for stealing money from you for his horse gambling problem.” Gail was nothing if not persistent.
She pushed at his chest flirtatiously. “Just imagine what might have happened if you’d taken me up on it! I might never have married Calvin, rot his soul.”
Jeffries cleared his throat behind them, and Gail gave him the fish eye like she knew the butler was interrupting on purpose. Jeffries might be old-fashioned, but he was also protective—especially when it seemed like Gail was taking things too far.
“Well, fine, bring in the drinks, for heaven’s sake, if you’re going to interrupt us,” Gail said to Jeffries, waving a hand in acceptance.
The silver tray the butler set down on the glass coffee table held a tumbler likely filled with Vander’s current favorite bourbon, a green juice concoction he couldn’t imagine Gail drinking, and some canapés.
“I can’t drink this,” Vander said. “It’s not even noon.”
She simply shrugged.
Without waiting to be asked, Vander sat down in the sofa chair with the pink, hibiscus-pattered cushions. He knew it was rude, but he couldn’t lollygag with Gail for the rest of the day. There were cases for him to attend to, meetings to prepare for.
“What in the world are you drinking?” he asked Gail when she held her nose and sipped at her green drink.
“It’s a kale and pineapple juice with a splash of lemon,” she told him. “The doctors want me off alcohol for a spell, and I finally conceded. Every time I drink this concoction, it feels like the end of the world. You might as well engrave my tombstone now. Tell me, Vander, how am I supposed to enjoy life if I can’t imbibe every now and again?”
Vander was hesitant to ask Gail why her doctors had her off the sauce, but since she was watching him so closely—almost daring him to give her permission to tell her sob story—he reached for his bourbon as a distraction. A few sips wouldn’t hurt him.
Her face fell.
“All right,” he said, giving in, “tell me why you’re drinking that disgusting concoction.”
Her smile was infectious as she launched into an emotional story about how the health of her heart was at risk due to a condition called hypertriglyceridemia. When she detoured into her family’s medical history, waxing on about how blueblood Southerners never spoke about their health issues and how that tendency had almost killed her, he decided to take another sip of his bourbon. Gail was on a tear.
“And that’s why I sent Shelby your way,” she finished off, earning a sharp look. “She simply has to know about her daddy, Vander. Her very health could be at risk—and that of her siblings.”
“Wait a minute,” he said, setting his drink aside. “You sent Shelby to me? Shelby McGuiness? Related to Sadie McGuiness?”
“Good Lord, Vander!” Gail uttered. “How many Shelby McGuinesses do you think there are in Nashville, anyway? I mean, I know her mama named her after that Julia Roberts character in Steel Magnolias , but seriously. Of course I did!”
“This is unexpected. How do you know Shelby?” He didn’t like being caught flat-footed—heck, he was the private investigator—but Gail was clearly loving this.
“She works for me, you fool!” she said, reaching for his bourbon. “I need a sip. To fortify me.”
He rolled his eyes. “What does she do for you? I
Her dramatic sigh made the white feathers on her boa sway like a willow in a summer breeze. “Oh, Vander! You always disappoint me with that answer. I’ve been asking you since I got rid of that bastard ex-husband of mine. Need I remind you, I’m only ten years older than you. That’s not much, is it, dahling?”
“Gail, you propositioned me after you divorced your first husband for stealing money from you for his horse gambling problem.” Gail was nothing if not persistent.
She pushed at his chest flirtatiously. “Just imagine what might have happened if you’d taken me up on it! I might never have married Calvin, rot his soul.”
Jeffries cleared his throat behind them, and Gail gave him the fish eye like she knew the butler was interrupting on purpose. Jeffries might be old-fashioned, but he was also protective—especially when it seemed like Gail was taking things too far.
“Well, fine, bring in the drinks, for heaven’s sake, if you’re going to interrupt us,” Gail said to Jeffries, waving a hand in acceptance.
The silver tray the butler set down on the glass coffee table held a tumbler likely filled with Vander’s current favorite bourbon, a green juice concoction he couldn’t imagine Gail drinking, and some canapés.
“I can’t drink this,” Vander said. “It’s not even noon.”
She simply shrugged.
Without waiting to be asked, Vander sat down in the sofa chair with the pink, hibiscus-pattered cushions. He knew it was rude, but he couldn’t lollygag with Gail for the rest of the day. There were cases for him to attend to, meetings to prepare for.
“What in the world are you drinking?” he asked Gail when she held her nose and sipped at her green drink.
“It’s a kale and pineapple juice with a splash of lemon,” she told him. “The doctors want me off alcohol for a spell, and I finally conceded. Every time I drink this concoction, it feels like the end of the world. You might as well engrave my tombstone now. Tell me, Vander, how am I supposed to enjoy life if I can’t imbibe every now and again?”
Vander was hesitant to ask Gail why her doctors had her off the sauce, but since she was watching him so closely—almost daring him to give her permission to tell her sob story—he reached for his bourbon as a distraction. A few sips wouldn’t hurt him.
Her face fell.
“All right,” he said, giving in, “tell me why you’re drinking that disgusting concoction.”
Her smile was infectious as she launched into an emotional story about how the health of her heart was at risk due to a condition called hypertriglyceridemia. When she detoured into her family’s medical history, waxing on about how blueblood Southerners never spoke about their health issues and how that tendency had almost killed her, he decided to take another sip of his bourbon. Gail was on a tear.
“And that’s why I sent Shelby your way,” she finished off, earning a sharp look. “She simply has to know about her daddy, Vander. Her very health could be at risk—and that of her siblings.”
“Wait a minute,” he said, setting his drink aside. “You sent Shelby to me? Shelby McGuiness? Related to Sadie McGuiness?”
“Good Lord, Vander!” Gail uttered. “How many Shelby McGuinesses do you think there are in Nashville, anyway? I mean, I know her mama named her after that Julia Roberts character in Steel Magnolias , but seriously. Of course I did!”
“This is unexpected. How do you know Shelby?” He didn’t like being caught flat-footed—heck, he was the private investigator—but Gail was clearly loving this.
“She works for me, you fool!” she said, reaching for his bourbon. “I need a sip. To fortify me.”
He rolled his eyes. “What does she do for you? I
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