Trace of Fever
Page 41
“Toys?”
“Molly,” Chris interjected, “shouldn’t you be working on a book or something?”
Molly refused the suggestion. “I’m taking mental notes.” She bobbed her eyebrows. “Believe me.”
“You’re a writer?” Priss asked her. Why had no one told her that?
“Yes, and I’m thinking a thread with a p**n producer would make a great story. He could be a supervillain. The wheels are already turning.”
Chris groaned.
For a few minutes, they discussed books. Priss was amazed by Molly’s success as a bestselling novelist. Not that she should have been. After all, Trace and Dare were exceptional men. Why wouldn’t they associate with exceptional women?
And thinking that, especially with any comparisons in mind, nearly depressed her. She shouldn’t care what Trace ultimately thought of her…but she did.
To shake off that thought, Priss asked, “So your latest book will be a movie?”
“Yes, it’s very exciting.” Molly moved to the edge of her seat. “But I’d rather hear more about your business.”
“No,” Matt said, and he resumed his work on Priss’s hair with a little more pain than necessary. “This is not a topic for a mixed audience.”
“Prude,” Priss accused. And then to Molly, “I inherited the place when my mom passed away.”
“Oh.” Molly blanched. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m adjusting, but thanks.” No way did she want to get into a depressing talk on her mother’s demise.
“So…” Molly cleared her throat. “You run it by yourself now?”
“I have an employee-slash-partner.” Priss shrugged. “He’s watching it for me while I’m away.”
“Huh.” Molly tilted her head. “Does Trace know about your shop and your partner?”
“I told him.” Priss felt peeved all over again. “Honestly, he didn’t seem all that interested.”
Chris whistled low and reclined back on the floor, braced on his elbows.
“What’s with the whistle?”
Matt answered for Chris. “It’s clear that you’ve got the hots for Trace.”
“I’ve only known him a couple of days!”
Undeterred, Matt continued, saying, “But if you don’t adjust your attitude you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”
“My attitude?” It felt like they’d somehow come full circle. “My attitude is just fine.”
They all gave her a pitying look.
Priss rolled her eyes. “Okay, not that I’m buying into any of this, but…what do you suggest?” She said it with enough sarcasm to impress Chris, but actually, she could use a male perspective on things.
The guys were g*y—but still guys.
Chris set Liger aside. The big cat went to a windowsill to recline in the sun. “Stop playing the tough guy. It’s ridiculous and not very believable.”
Ridiculous? Heat flooded to her face. “I’m not playing anything!”
“Yeah, right.” He finished off his Coke and crushed the can. “I was there when you leaped from the truck with blood in your eyes, remember?”
Good God, she had been attempting an escape, not putting on a show. She gripped the arms of the chair and tried to moderate her tone. “Then you should remember that I had good reason for…” She glanced at Matt, wondering how much he knew about Dare and Trace and whatever enterprise they owned. She brought her gaze back to Chris. “Well, you know why I reacted that way earlier.”
“Maybe. In part.” Chris shook his head.
“In part? Are you nuts!” Did none of them get the insult in what Trace had done to her?
“Look, Priss, if you were afraid of Trace, or even mad at him, you wouldn’t be obsessing over him now.”
Her neck stiffened with indignation. “I’m not obsessing.” Was she? Well, maybe a little. Where was he?
Molly leaned forward, attentive and interested. “Are you and Trace…you know. Involved?”
“No.” Firm, Priss shook her head. “We’re not.” Not that she hadn’t tried to involve him, but so far, for the most part, he’d been resistant. “Not beyond a couple of kisses.”
Molly brightened. “He kissed you?”
“A couple of times.” Should she tell Molly about the picture Trace took? Or how Trace has touched her under the guise of frisking her? Maybe not, not with Matt listening in. It’d only cause a need for more explanations than she could give.
“I’m not surprised,” Matt told her. “You’re already attractive. You have good, basic bones to work with.”
“Bones?”
“But when I finish fine-tuning you, you’re going to be stunning. Physically irresistible. So you should use your feminine appeal instead of the balls-to-the-walls attitude if you want Trace’s attention.”
Stunning? Irresistible? Somehow Priss doubted it. She glanced in the mirror and…yeah. Not great, especially not with foil in her hair.
She ignored Matt’s insult to her attitude in favor of concentrating on the possibilities. “Use it how?”
“Anger is just another form of caring. If you didn’t care, why get mad?”
Uh, because he had drugged her. Hello! But for her own sake, Priss knew she should keep that to herself. She sighed.
“Molly,” Chris interjected, “shouldn’t you be working on a book or something?”
Molly refused the suggestion. “I’m taking mental notes.” She bobbed her eyebrows. “Believe me.”
“You’re a writer?” Priss asked her. Why had no one told her that?
“Yes, and I’m thinking a thread with a p**n producer would make a great story. He could be a supervillain. The wheels are already turning.”
Chris groaned.
For a few minutes, they discussed books. Priss was amazed by Molly’s success as a bestselling novelist. Not that she should have been. After all, Trace and Dare were exceptional men. Why wouldn’t they associate with exceptional women?
And thinking that, especially with any comparisons in mind, nearly depressed her. She shouldn’t care what Trace ultimately thought of her…but she did.
To shake off that thought, Priss asked, “So your latest book will be a movie?”
“Yes, it’s very exciting.” Molly moved to the edge of her seat. “But I’d rather hear more about your business.”
“No,” Matt said, and he resumed his work on Priss’s hair with a little more pain than necessary. “This is not a topic for a mixed audience.”
“Prude,” Priss accused. And then to Molly, “I inherited the place when my mom passed away.”
“Oh.” Molly blanched. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m adjusting, but thanks.” No way did she want to get into a depressing talk on her mother’s demise.
“So…” Molly cleared her throat. “You run it by yourself now?”
“I have an employee-slash-partner.” Priss shrugged. “He’s watching it for me while I’m away.”
“Huh.” Molly tilted her head. “Does Trace know about your shop and your partner?”
“I told him.” Priss felt peeved all over again. “Honestly, he didn’t seem all that interested.”
Chris whistled low and reclined back on the floor, braced on his elbows.
“What’s with the whistle?”
Matt answered for Chris. “It’s clear that you’ve got the hots for Trace.”
“I’ve only known him a couple of days!”
Undeterred, Matt continued, saying, “But if you don’t adjust your attitude you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”
“My attitude?” It felt like they’d somehow come full circle. “My attitude is just fine.”
They all gave her a pitying look.
Priss rolled her eyes. “Okay, not that I’m buying into any of this, but…what do you suggest?” She said it with enough sarcasm to impress Chris, but actually, she could use a male perspective on things.
The guys were g*y—but still guys.
Chris set Liger aside. The big cat went to a windowsill to recline in the sun. “Stop playing the tough guy. It’s ridiculous and not very believable.”
Ridiculous? Heat flooded to her face. “I’m not playing anything!”
“Yeah, right.” He finished off his Coke and crushed the can. “I was there when you leaped from the truck with blood in your eyes, remember?”
Good God, she had been attempting an escape, not putting on a show. She gripped the arms of the chair and tried to moderate her tone. “Then you should remember that I had good reason for…” She glanced at Matt, wondering how much he knew about Dare and Trace and whatever enterprise they owned. She brought her gaze back to Chris. “Well, you know why I reacted that way earlier.”
“Maybe. In part.” Chris shook his head.
“In part? Are you nuts!” Did none of them get the insult in what Trace had done to her?
“Look, Priss, if you were afraid of Trace, or even mad at him, you wouldn’t be obsessing over him now.”
Her neck stiffened with indignation. “I’m not obsessing.” Was she? Well, maybe a little. Where was he?
Molly leaned forward, attentive and interested. “Are you and Trace…you know. Involved?”
“No.” Firm, Priss shook her head. “We’re not.” Not that she hadn’t tried to involve him, but so far, for the most part, he’d been resistant. “Not beyond a couple of kisses.”
Molly brightened. “He kissed you?”
“A couple of times.” Should she tell Molly about the picture Trace took? Or how Trace has touched her under the guise of frisking her? Maybe not, not with Matt listening in. It’d only cause a need for more explanations than she could give.
“I’m not surprised,” Matt told her. “You’re already attractive. You have good, basic bones to work with.”
“Bones?”
“But when I finish fine-tuning you, you’re going to be stunning. Physically irresistible. So you should use your feminine appeal instead of the balls-to-the-walls attitude if you want Trace’s attention.”
Stunning? Irresistible? Somehow Priss doubted it. She glanced in the mirror and…yeah. Not great, especially not with foil in her hair.
She ignored Matt’s insult to her attitude in favor of concentrating on the possibilities. “Use it how?”
“Anger is just another form of caring. If you didn’t care, why get mad?”
Uh, because he had drugged her. Hello! But for her own sake, Priss knew she should keep that to herself. She sighed.
