Project Produce(75)

I ordered finger sandwiches as well, then looked her square in the eye when I answered, “I’ve fallen hard.”

“Are you hurt? Should I call 911, chica?” Gloria stood.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her back down, not letting go. “Yes, it hurts, but I didn’t fall the way you think I did.” I squeezed her hand even tighter. “I’ve fallen for someone.”

Gloria blinked. Her eyes shifted left, then right, and a cotton candy pink flooded her face. She tugged on the collar of her shirt and finally met my eyes. “Oh, honey, are you sure? Maybe it’s just infatuation.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. But I can’t take feeling this way.” I released her hand and shook my head. “I’m a mess. Any thoughts on what I should do about it?”

A squirming Gloria gaped at me, lips parted, jaw working to form the words, but no sound emerged. I’d stumped Gloria? Well, that was a first.

“What’s the matter? I guess I could go to someone else if you’re not interested. I feel more comfortable talking to you about this, but if you can’t give me any advice on how to seduce Dylan, I could--”

“Dylan? Well, why the hell didn’t you say so?” Gloria slapped her hands on the table, rattling the china cups and causing quite a few outraged gasps and disapproving glares. She glared right back. “Oh, go eat your lunch and never mind, busybodies.”

She turned back to me, a downright devilish smile spread across her face and scary mischief blazed within her cocoa-brown eyes. “It’s about damn time you two got together.” She laughed with pure delight and then downed the last of her tea. After she slapped money on the table, she grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. “Lunch is on me, sister. Your reward for making my day. Oh, and I have advice, all right. Just wait until he gets a load of what we have in store for him. Come on, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

I followed, jogging after her to keep up, suddenly scared of what I’d gotten myself into.

Note to self: Peaches are to zucchinis what melons are to pickles: opposites. Halle-freaking-lujah... opposites attract!





CHAPTER FOURTEEN





Opposites attract, all right, so if melons were into pickles, what in God’s name possessed me to ask a melon for advice on how to seduce a zucchini?

The unmistakable sound of Big Betty’s engine came from outside Dylan’s apartment, then the engine died. A car door slammed, feet pounded the pavement, and then the dreaded sound of keys jingled. Crap! I’d forgotten to lock the door. Dylan would know instantly that he wasn’t alone. That meant he would be searching his apartment this very second, and he would find...

Dear, God, Please make me invisible.

I heard Dylan move around the living room. As I shifted on the bed, I yanked at my wrist to no avail. Why had I let Gloria talk me into this? The floor in the hallway creaked.

This was it: the moment of truth.

The door cracked open an inch, then Dylan slammed his monstrous boot into the wood, crashing the door against the wall. He pointed his gun at me and yelled, “Freeze, asshole!”

I screamed and my red wig flopped over my eyes like a bad toupee. I pushed the hair out of my face, my chains rattling and leather squeaking every time I moved. Holding the end of my whip in my free hand, I wiggled the other hand still handcuffed to the headboard of his bed. “Uh... Come and get me, Detective, I’ve been a very naughty girl,” my voice trilled out on a rush of air, sounding foreign to my own ears. Please, God, I’ll say ten Hail Marys a day for the rest of my life if you find a way to get me out of here right now.

“A prostitute?” Dylan muttered, “I’m going to kill them.” He cleared his throat and spoke in a loud, commanding voice, “You picked the wrong guy to proposition, babe. Haul your behind out of here while I’m still in a decent mood.”

I blinked through a few frizzy red strands. He didn’t recognize me? Thank you, God. “Hail Mary, full of grace--”

Dylan’s brows had virtually disappeared into his hairline. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Okay, hadn’t meant to say that out loud. I disguised my voice and said, “Got a few clergy customers. I mean, not a priest or anything, given the celibacy thing and all, but... never mind.” No doubt about it, I was gonna burn in hell for that one. Maybe I could bargain for a lower sentence with an Act of Contrition or two. “Anyway, I would leave if I could, but I’m in a bit of a pickle.” Double crap. “Bind. I’m in a bind, since I can’t reach the key to these blasted things.” I wiggled my cuffed hand. “Looks like I’m stuck, sugar,” I said in a deep, throaty voice, sounding more like a drag queen than a prostitute. Probably looked it, too, given my size. If Dylan came any closer, he was sure to recognize me.