Trace of Fever
Page 43
“At least I got something accomplished,” Matt grumbled.
Priss stretched. “Molly, you got any music? It feels dead in here right about now.” And she didn’t want Trace to find her all out of sorts. The guys said to be less obvious, so that’s what she’d try to do.
Molly rushed to a small panel on the wall, relieved no doubt to have something to do. “I can play my favorite tracks on surround sound. It’s in every room. Decadent, huh?”
With a glare at Priss, Matt said, “Nothing but the best for Dare.” He blew Molly a kiss. “And that includes you, doll.”
Priss laughed at the veiled insult. “You might as well have said I’m in the category of the worst. But all things considered, I forgive you for the slight.”
Matt made a face. “Oh, wow, I’m so grateful for your benevolence.”
The music started, and it was a song Priss loved. “How long will I have this stuff on my hair?”
“Depends. I’ll check it in twenty.”
Twenty minutes to liven up her disposition. “Do you dance, hairdresser?”
At five feet eleven inches, and with his bleached-blond hair adding an inch more, Matt stared down at her. “Challenging me?”
“Why not? I’ve never had much opportunity to dance, so I’m sure you’re better. But I feel like cutting loose a little, and we’ve got twenty minutes to waste. What do you say?”
For her part, Molly had already set aside her drink. “I’m in!”
So were the dogs. They anxiously awaited direction, ready to leap on anyone who showed interest in the game.
Priss caught Matt’s chin and gave it a squeeze. “Come on, hairdresser. Lose the sour expression. It doesn’t suit you.”
“No.” He still appeared peeved. “It doesn’t.”
“Look at it this way—” she held out a hand “—you can further polish me with a few lessons.”
“You’ve truly never danced?”
There was a lot she’d never done, but once she took care of Murray, that would change. “Only in the privacy of my own room, and even I was appalled at how bad I am.”
His mouth twitched before spreading into a grin. “Oh, okay. But when I’m all done with you, I better see some sincere appreciation for the transformation.”
“Guaranteed.” Especially if he made her stunning, as he’d promised. She couldn’t wait to see Trace’s reaction to that.
Matt took one of Priss’s hands, one of Molly’s, and the next thing she knew, they were all three dancing as the dogs bounded around them, barking in excitement. Liger watched with little interest.
And Priss had a blast.
CHAPTER NINE
TRACE FOLLOWED BEHIND Chris as he led the way from his smaller house down closer to the lake, up to Dare’s much larger home. They’d accomplished only a little, but he now knew that Priss’s ID was authentic, and that she lived in Ohio.
“She was seriously ready to blow, Trace. I know pissed when I see it, and that girl was pissed. Big-time.”
Dare flattened his mouth, but couldn’t keep quiet. “You say Matt wanted to wax her?”
“Yeah.” Chris looked back at them. “I think he thought he was supposed to…you know…style her everywhere.”
Trace locked his teeth together. He did not want to have this discussion again. Not with his friends.
“I don’t blame her for complaining.” Dare frowned at Trace. “Hell of a thing to ask a girl to do, especially in a private home instead of a salon.”
Trace stopped dead in his tracks, fed up, pushed over the edge. “She’s not a girl. She’s a grown woman who put herself in this predicament by plotting against Murray.”
Dare and Chris stopped, too, then turned to face him. They both crossed their arms and waited.
“Mutt and Jeff,” Trace muttered over their belligerent, accusing expressions. “How you two can act so much alike, I don’t understand.”
Chris was the first to drop his arms. “We don’t.” And then, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“He’s deflecting,” Dare told Chris, not changing his stance one iota. “Guilt is a son-of-a-bitch, and he’s got it in spades.”
Chris cocked a brow. “Because he wanted her waxed?”
“Hell, no, I don’t want that.”
Chris half smiled. “I see.”
“He’s feeling guilty because it was no doubt Murray’s idea to put Priss through this, and Trace agreed to it, even knowing how Priss was going to feel about it.”
“No, I did not,” Trace told him, so tense that his neck ached. “I’d already told Murray…” Shit, he didn’t want to tell them what he’d said to Murray in order to convince him.
Dare looked at him with disgust. “This ought to be good.”
“Well, it’s not.” In fact, it sucked. “Let’s just say I handled it.”
Dare continued to stare at him. “No waxing?”
“No.”
Chris asked, “Does Priss know how you handled it?”
“No.”
“Then maybe you ought to tell her before she murders Matt.”
Trace started on his way again, this time taking the lead. “She’s five-four and weighs less than one-twenty. Matt can handle himself.”
“Says the man with the black eye.”
Priss stretched. “Molly, you got any music? It feels dead in here right about now.” And she didn’t want Trace to find her all out of sorts. The guys said to be less obvious, so that’s what she’d try to do.
Molly rushed to a small panel on the wall, relieved no doubt to have something to do. “I can play my favorite tracks on surround sound. It’s in every room. Decadent, huh?”
With a glare at Priss, Matt said, “Nothing but the best for Dare.” He blew Molly a kiss. “And that includes you, doll.”
Priss laughed at the veiled insult. “You might as well have said I’m in the category of the worst. But all things considered, I forgive you for the slight.”
Matt made a face. “Oh, wow, I’m so grateful for your benevolence.”
The music started, and it was a song Priss loved. “How long will I have this stuff on my hair?”
“Depends. I’ll check it in twenty.”
Twenty minutes to liven up her disposition. “Do you dance, hairdresser?”
At five feet eleven inches, and with his bleached-blond hair adding an inch more, Matt stared down at her. “Challenging me?”
“Why not? I’ve never had much opportunity to dance, so I’m sure you’re better. But I feel like cutting loose a little, and we’ve got twenty minutes to waste. What do you say?”
For her part, Molly had already set aside her drink. “I’m in!”
So were the dogs. They anxiously awaited direction, ready to leap on anyone who showed interest in the game.
Priss caught Matt’s chin and gave it a squeeze. “Come on, hairdresser. Lose the sour expression. It doesn’t suit you.”
“No.” He still appeared peeved. “It doesn’t.”
“Look at it this way—” she held out a hand “—you can further polish me with a few lessons.”
“You’ve truly never danced?”
There was a lot she’d never done, but once she took care of Murray, that would change. “Only in the privacy of my own room, and even I was appalled at how bad I am.”
His mouth twitched before spreading into a grin. “Oh, okay. But when I’m all done with you, I better see some sincere appreciation for the transformation.”
“Guaranteed.” Especially if he made her stunning, as he’d promised. She couldn’t wait to see Trace’s reaction to that.
Matt took one of Priss’s hands, one of Molly’s, and the next thing she knew, they were all three dancing as the dogs bounded around them, barking in excitement. Liger watched with little interest.
And Priss had a blast.
CHAPTER NINE
TRACE FOLLOWED BEHIND Chris as he led the way from his smaller house down closer to the lake, up to Dare’s much larger home. They’d accomplished only a little, but he now knew that Priss’s ID was authentic, and that she lived in Ohio.
“She was seriously ready to blow, Trace. I know pissed when I see it, and that girl was pissed. Big-time.”
Dare flattened his mouth, but couldn’t keep quiet. “You say Matt wanted to wax her?”
“Yeah.” Chris looked back at them. “I think he thought he was supposed to…you know…style her everywhere.”
Trace locked his teeth together. He did not want to have this discussion again. Not with his friends.
“I don’t blame her for complaining.” Dare frowned at Trace. “Hell of a thing to ask a girl to do, especially in a private home instead of a salon.”
Trace stopped dead in his tracks, fed up, pushed over the edge. “She’s not a girl. She’s a grown woman who put herself in this predicament by plotting against Murray.”
Dare and Chris stopped, too, then turned to face him. They both crossed their arms and waited.
“Mutt and Jeff,” Trace muttered over their belligerent, accusing expressions. “How you two can act so much alike, I don’t understand.”
Chris was the first to drop his arms. “We don’t.” And then, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“He’s deflecting,” Dare told Chris, not changing his stance one iota. “Guilt is a son-of-a-bitch, and he’s got it in spades.”
Chris cocked a brow. “Because he wanted her waxed?”
“Hell, no, I don’t want that.”
Chris half smiled. “I see.”
“He’s feeling guilty because it was no doubt Murray’s idea to put Priss through this, and Trace agreed to it, even knowing how Priss was going to feel about it.”
“No, I did not,” Trace told him, so tense that his neck ached. “I’d already told Murray…” Shit, he didn’t want to tell them what he’d said to Murray in order to convince him.
Dare looked at him with disgust. “This ought to be good.”
“Well, it’s not.” In fact, it sucked. “Let’s just say I handled it.”
Dare continued to stare at him. “No waxing?”
“No.”
Chris asked, “Does Priss know how you handled it?”
“No.”
“Then maybe you ought to tell her before she murders Matt.”
Trace started on his way again, this time taking the lead. “She’s five-four and weighs less than one-twenty. Matt can handle himself.”
“Says the man with the black eye.”
