Trace of Fever
Page 47
Propping her hands on her hips, her attitude unaltered by her beauty, Priss glared. “So why do you sound so disgusted, then?”
Dare pulled Molly closer to his side. “You look very nice, Priss. It’s just that Trace isn’t a man who likes to share, but he’s currently not in a position to deny others.”
Trace continued to stare at her, and he saw her dawning understanding. She gave a peek back at Matt, aware of him as a trusted friend but not a part of the inner circle. Hell, Priss didn’t know what that inner circle protected, and still she went along.
“Got it. Well, it’s not Trace’s problem. Maybe he should recall that.” She turned to look at the wall clock. “Shouldn’t we be hitting the road?”
The woman looked like living, breathing sex, but she talked like a businesswoman. Trace hated it. All of it.
Dare indicated the array of food. “I fixed lunch. You have to be getting hungry.”
Matt went straight for the grub, but Priss declined. “No, thanks.”
Trace scowled. “Enough already. You need to eat.” Hell, she hadn’t had anything, not even a drink of water, since her breakfast sandwich early that morning.
The makeup and tousled hair lent a whole new air to her expression of sarcasm. “I’m nothing if not a fast learner.”
Bemused, Dare picked up a sandwich, took a bite and then offered her the rest. “Safe enough?”
“You guys are tricky, so I’ll pass.”
“For the love of…” Trace let that sentiment trail off. Seeing her so hot, so sexy, had done enough to destroy his calm. “Don’t push me, Priss.”
“Or you’ll do what? Dope me?”
Matt glanced up, then deliberately away, whistling softly to himself.
Trace took one hard step toward her—and his cell phone rang. Scowling, he retrieved it from his pocket, looked at the number and then at Matt. “Out.”
Matt grabbed two more sandwiches and his drink and headed to the family room. Chris caught Molly’s arm and urged her from her seat. “We’ll go with him.”
Rolling her eyes, Molly went along, but said to Dare, “I’ll expect an update.”
He just nodded. The dynamics of their relationship amazed Trace. Apparently Dare confided everything in his wife.
Must be nice to be that secure with a woman.
He eyed Priss, who stood still in front of him, in no way considering his possible need for privacy.
Trace answered the phone. “Miller.”
“How’s it going, Trace? Is Priss cooperating with the stylist?”
“It’s fine. And yeah, she is.” Truthfully, she’d done her best to bully Matt, but luckily he wasn’t a pushover.
“Got a report on the results? I have to admit, I feel like a kid on Christmas, waiting to unwrap a gift.”
Yeah, Trace knew just how Murray’s mind worked. “She looks good. You’ll be pleased.”
Jovial, Murray asked, “Is she there?”
Maybe he’d overestimated Murray’s level of trust. Not that Murray ever fully trusted anyone. He was forever trying to catch Trace in a lie, but Trace remained careful of what he said, and when, to avoid that particular scenario.
Lacking inflection, Trace said, “She is.”
“Great. Put her on. I want to talk to her.” No doubt to verify Priss’s whereabouts for himself.
Ice shot through Trace’s veins. Murray could have only one agenda in mind, to intimidate Priss, embarrass her or try to trip her up. An inner battle raged, but in the end, he said, “Here she is.”
He handed the phone to Priss without saying another word.
Her eyes widened. With the mascara and liner, the effect was exaggerated. “Who is it?” she mouthed.
“Murray wants to speak with you.”
Just that quick, Dare went to warn the others to silence. Trace put a finger to his mouth, alerting Priss before hitting the speaker button on the phone.
She chewed the gloss off her bottom lip, drew in a deep breath and took the phone. “Murray! Hello. How are you?”
Trace stood as close to her as he could.
Murray said, “Having fun, honey?”
“It’s amazing. I had no idea that a professional could make such a difference with my hair. I mean, I take good care of myself, but this is…well, it’s decadent. I don’t even look like me anymore.”
She gushed just as any neglected young lady might when introduced to the benefit of unlimited pampering.
Trace smiled at her, feeling unaccountably proud of how quickly she adapted to appease Murray.
“I look forward to seeing the results myself.”
“Of course, whenever is convenient for you. And Murray, thank you so much. It wasn’t necessary, I told you that and I meant it. But this is just…well, it’s the most fun I’ve ever had.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” A beat of silence, and then, “I understand you switched hotels?”
Shock rippled through Trace. How the hell had Murray known that already? Had the son-of-a-bitch planned to do her harm so soon?
Trace would have told Murray a story about her move as soon as he saw him, but he hadn’t thought to prepare Priss—
Unfazed, she put a hand on his chest to reassure him. “It was the oddest thing,” she said to Murray, sounding exactly like the naive young woman she claimed to be. “Trace felt certain that someone was watching us, and he didn’t think it was safe to stay where I was. He insisted that you would want me moved to a more secure place.”
Dare pulled Molly closer to his side. “You look very nice, Priss. It’s just that Trace isn’t a man who likes to share, but he’s currently not in a position to deny others.”
Trace continued to stare at her, and he saw her dawning understanding. She gave a peek back at Matt, aware of him as a trusted friend but not a part of the inner circle. Hell, Priss didn’t know what that inner circle protected, and still she went along.
“Got it. Well, it’s not Trace’s problem. Maybe he should recall that.” She turned to look at the wall clock. “Shouldn’t we be hitting the road?”
The woman looked like living, breathing sex, but she talked like a businesswoman. Trace hated it. All of it.
Dare indicated the array of food. “I fixed lunch. You have to be getting hungry.”
Matt went straight for the grub, but Priss declined. “No, thanks.”
Trace scowled. “Enough already. You need to eat.” Hell, she hadn’t had anything, not even a drink of water, since her breakfast sandwich early that morning.
The makeup and tousled hair lent a whole new air to her expression of sarcasm. “I’m nothing if not a fast learner.”
Bemused, Dare picked up a sandwich, took a bite and then offered her the rest. “Safe enough?”
“You guys are tricky, so I’ll pass.”
“For the love of…” Trace let that sentiment trail off. Seeing her so hot, so sexy, had done enough to destroy his calm. “Don’t push me, Priss.”
“Or you’ll do what? Dope me?”
Matt glanced up, then deliberately away, whistling softly to himself.
Trace took one hard step toward her—and his cell phone rang. Scowling, he retrieved it from his pocket, looked at the number and then at Matt. “Out.”
Matt grabbed two more sandwiches and his drink and headed to the family room. Chris caught Molly’s arm and urged her from her seat. “We’ll go with him.”
Rolling her eyes, Molly went along, but said to Dare, “I’ll expect an update.”
He just nodded. The dynamics of their relationship amazed Trace. Apparently Dare confided everything in his wife.
Must be nice to be that secure with a woman.
He eyed Priss, who stood still in front of him, in no way considering his possible need for privacy.
Trace answered the phone. “Miller.”
“How’s it going, Trace? Is Priss cooperating with the stylist?”
“It’s fine. And yeah, she is.” Truthfully, she’d done her best to bully Matt, but luckily he wasn’t a pushover.
“Got a report on the results? I have to admit, I feel like a kid on Christmas, waiting to unwrap a gift.”
Yeah, Trace knew just how Murray’s mind worked. “She looks good. You’ll be pleased.”
Jovial, Murray asked, “Is she there?”
Maybe he’d overestimated Murray’s level of trust. Not that Murray ever fully trusted anyone. He was forever trying to catch Trace in a lie, but Trace remained careful of what he said, and when, to avoid that particular scenario.
Lacking inflection, Trace said, “She is.”
“Great. Put her on. I want to talk to her.” No doubt to verify Priss’s whereabouts for himself.
Ice shot through Trace’s veins. Murray could have only one agenda in mind, to intimidate Priss, embarrass her or try to trip her up. An inner battle raged, but in the end, he said, “Here she is.”
He handed the phone to Priss without saying another word.
Her eyes widened. With the mascara and liner, the effect was exaggerated. “Who is it?” she mouthed.
“Murray wants to speak with you.”
Just that quick, Dare went to warn the others to silence. Trace put a finger to his mouth, alerting Priss before hitting the speaker button on the phone.
She chewed the gloss off her bottom lip, drew in a deep breath and took the phone. “Murray! Hello. How are you?”
Trace stood as close to her as he could.
Murray said, “Having fun, honey?”
“It’s amazing. I had no idea that a professional could make such a difference with my hair. I mean, I take good care of myself, but this is…well, it’s decadent. I don’t even look like me anymore.”
She gushed just as any neglected young lady might when introduced to the benefit of unlimited pampering.
Trace smiled at her, feeling unaccountably proud of how quickly she adapted to appease Murray.
“I look forward to seeing the results myself.”
“Of course, whenever is convenient for you. And Murray, thank you so much. It wasn’t necessary, I told you that and I meant it. But this is just…well, it’s the most fun I’ve ever had.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” A beat of silence, and then, “I understand you switched hotels?”
Shock rippled through Trace. How the hell had Murray known that already? Had the son-of-a-bitch planned to do her harm so soon?
Trace would have told Murray a story about her move as soon as he saw him, but he hadn’t thought to prepare Priss—
Unfazed, she put a hand on his chest to reassure him. “It was the oddest thing,” she said to Murray, sounding exactly like the naive young woman she claimed to be. “Trace felt certain that someone was watching us, and he didn’t think it was safe to stay where I was. He insisted that you would want me moved to a more secure place.”
