She lifted her chin and saw to her satisfaction that the skin wasn’t as saggy as it could have been. Especially now, she wanted to look her absolute best. She had even wondered if she should accept Michele’s invitation this year or not. With so much going on in her life she didn’t want to be stuck in a house for a week. But then she’d remembered that these people were her friends, and that she always felt so uplifted at the end of the sojourn, and had decided to come after all.
Her phone chimed and she glanced in the direction of the bathroom door, where Nathan had been ensconced for the past twenty minutes, and quickly grabbed her phone. When she read the message she smiled, then replied. And she’d just finished deleting the message when her husband walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his midsection, hair wet from his shower.
“Most people take a shower after the match,” she said as she finished rubbing the creamy substance on her face and neck, taking care not to skip her ears.
“Yeah, well, I like to take a shower before and after,” said Nathan as he cut a glance to his phone, which was lying on the bed. “Makes me feel refreshed.” A tall man a few years her senior, he looked fit and healthy, which was a boon in his line of work. As a successful art dealer, he was mingling with the movers and shakers of the art world on a daily basis, people who put a premium on beauty and good looks. “Have you heard from Izzy?”
Perlita shook her head.“I’m going to have Dr. Blumberg take a look at this mole,” she said.
“Oh, for God’s sakes, Perlita. It’s just a mole.”
“I don’t like it. I want it gone.” It was her face, after all. This mole had no business popping up uninvited. “I’m sure Dr. Blumberg will know what to do.”
“Fine,” Nathan murmured as he picked up his phone and stared at it for a moment, looking puzzled. “So no word from Izzy?”
“I’m sure everything is fine, Nate.”
“I guess so.”
Izzy Price was the promising young artist the couple had taken under their wing. Nathan was representing her business interests, while Perlita, who owned the Gruner Gallery in downtown Hampton Cove, was organizing the young artist’s first-ever exhibition in two months. Perlita had commissioned three dozen paintings from Izzy, but so far she had only finished the first dozen, which gave Nathan cause for concern. In spite of his long association with artists—or maybe because of it—he habitually fretted about their capacity to deliver on command. And since Izzy had never completed such a big order before, he wondered if they hadn’t jumped the gun and offered her this opportunity before she was ready. That they might burn her out and end her career before it even got started.
“You know what Izzy is like,” she said. “She performs well under pressure.”
“Let’s hope she does. Two dozen paintings in two months is a lot.”
Perlita got up, grabbed her towel and water bottle and headed for the door.“Ready?” she asked.
“Just give me a minute,” said Nathan as he picked up his phone. That frown was still cutting his brow.
She sighed and walked out.“Don’t be late, Nate.”
“Mh.”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
The moment his wife had left, Nathan tiptoed to the door and listened intently. Satisfied that she was gone, he dialed the number. When a female voice purred in his ear, his frown disappeared and immediately a warm smile crept up his face.
“Are you sure Perlita doesn’t know?” she asked.
“Absolutely. She doesn’t have a clue.”
“When will I see you, Nate?”
“Soon—I promise.”
“Why did you have to go to this tennis thing? And with your wife, no less.”
“It’s only a week, sweetheart. One more week, and then we’ll be together.”
“Pinky swear?”
“Scout’s honor.”
She giggled, a lovely sound.“I can’t wait.”
Neither could he. The thought of that luscious young body and those flexible limbs made him giddy with desire.“Same here,” he said hoarsely.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
Isobel sat motionless for a moment. The fight with her daughter had affected her more deeply than she would have thought. She hated these fights, but what was the alternative? To give Alison what she wanted? Impossible. Jason Rocamora was bad news. If Alison married him, he would drag her down into the abyss, and destroy her life and her future. She couldn’t have that. That marriage must never take place.
Her phone chimed and she picked up immediately.“Yes, any news?”
“She got into Jason’s car and they took off,” said the voice on the other end. It was the PI she had hired to keep tabs on Jason and her daughter. Mark Devine was an ace at what he did. He was the one who had discovered that Rocamora had a criminal record. That he’d done time for aggravatedrobbery, and was bad news.
“Focus on Jason,” she instructed. “I want you to catch him in something illegal.”
“Of course,” said Mark, and she could hear that he was driving.
“Are you following them now?”
“Yeah, I’m right behind them. Looks like they’re driving to his place.”