on the sleeping arrangements of this woman, Sutton handed her the bottle of Cakebread Chardonnay she’d selected from the local wine shop on her block.
“It’s a 2011. It’s supposed to be wonderful, so I very much hope you enjoy it.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Janelle said, waving them inside the penthouse.
“And here are the cookies as promised,” Reeve said, handing her the plate of baked goods.
“I can not wait to eat them.” Then she plucked one from under the saran wrap and popped it into her mouth. She rolled her eyes in pleasure, then whispered. “Best. Ever.”
Reeve smiled.
“Let me just put this wine in the wine cellar,” Janelle added. “Though, it’s not really a cellar. It’s more of a closet. But I still call it a cellar. Come with me. I’ll show it to you.”
Janelle escorted them to the spacious kitchen, which itself was the size of Sutton’s whole apartment. There was an island, a massive Viking stove, and a huge Sub-Zero built-in refrigerator. As Janelle placed the cookies on the island, the Siamese cat sashayed by.
“Hello, Archibald,” Sutton said to the feline. As felines do, he ignored her and wandered into another room.
Janelle led them to an oak door that opened into a long narrow hallway full of bottles of wine. The lights were low in the wine cellar-slash-closet and the temperature was cooler. Sutton shivered, and Reeve placed an arm around her. His touch was warm, and she leaned briefly into it.
Janelle placed the wine in a rack, and then gestured as if she were presenting winning letters on a game show. “Voila. And here it is. In case you should need to find it later.” Then she whispered, as if they were in on something. “It’s fun for all sorts of things.”
Sutton wasn’t sure how to respond, so she kept her reply on the level. “Lovely. Great. We’ll know exactly where it is.”
“Oh, by the way, I keep meaning to ask. How was Renaissance Astrology?”
Sutton looked quickly at Reeve, who smirked knowingly.
“I think it’s going to work out just fine for that scene. Just fine indeed,” Sutton said.
“Really? Are you sure?” Janelle pressed.
“Yes. I’m quite sure.”
Janelle grinned, and pointed from Reeve to Sutton. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me. You two didn’t test it out, did you?”
There was something strangely salacious in Janelle’s question and Sutton was flummoxed. She couldn’t tell if Janelle was a prude or a pervert. Reeve tightened his grip on Sutton’s shoulder in a possessive way, then he spoke. “Let’s just say, we are one hundred percent positive that it’s the perfect location.” He winked at Janelle, and leaned into Sutton, dusting a kiss on her cheek. “Aren’t we, babe?” he said to her.
He knew how to handle Janelle. How to play her, so Sutton made a choice to trust him. “Yes, we are.”
They left the wine closet and as Janelle headed toward the living room, Reeve pulled Sutton aside and spoke in a low voice.
“I think she might be a bit like the woman who runs the escort agency in Escorted Lives.”
“No. Really?”
He nodded. “I’m betting she’s kind of a voyeur herself.”
“Oh, that’s totally not the case,” Sutton said, but then found herself wondering if perhaps life was imitating art in some bizarre way with Janelle.
Reeve and Sutton joined the Pinkertons in the living room, where Nicholas and Frederick sat like puffy buffoons on an antique-looking couch. They made small talk for the next hour as a caterer circled by offering hamachi, prosciutto-wrapped asparagus and stuffed mushrooms. Then it was time for dinner and they moved to the dining room, which boasted a gorgeous view of Central Park, wide and expansive from the tenth floor of the penthouse. Once again, Janelle stationed herself next to Reeve, much as she had at the theater. Did Janelle have a crush on Reeve? Well, if she did Sutton couldn’t blame her. But if that woman tried to steal her boyfriend, she’d claw her
“It’s a 2011. It’s supposed to be wonderful, so I very much hope you enjoy it.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Janelle said, waving them inside the penthouse.
“And here are the cookies as promised,” Reeve said, handing her the plate of baked goods.
“I can not wait to eat them.” Then she plucked one from under the saran wrap and popped it into her mouth. She rolled her eyes in pleasure, then whispered. “Best. Ever.”
Reeve smiled.
“Let me just put this wine in the wine cellar,” Janelle added. “Though, it’s not really a cellar. It’s more of a closet. But I still call it a cellar. Come with me. I’ll show it to you.”
Janelle escorted them to the spacious kitchen, which itself was the size of Sutton’s whole apartment. There was an island, a massive Viking stove, and a huge Sub-Zero built-in refrigerator. As Janelle placed the cookies on the island, the Siamese cat sashayed by.
“Hello, Archibald,” Sutton said to the feline. As felines do, he ignored her and wandered into another room.
Janelle led them to an oak door that opened into a long narrow hallway full of bottles of wine. The lights were low in the wine cellar-slash-closet and the temperature was cooler. Sutton shivered, and Reeve placed an arm around her. His touch was warm, and she leaned briefly into it.
Janelle placed the wine in a rack, and then gestured as if she were presenting winning letters on a game show. “Voila. And here it is. In case you should need to find it later.” Then she whispered, as if they were in on something. “It’s fun for all sorts of things.”
Sutton wasn’t sure how to respond, so she kept her reply on the level. “Lovely. Great. We’ll know exactly where it is.”
“Oh, by the way, I keep meaning to ask. How was Renaissance Astrology?”
Sutton looked quickly at Reeve, who smirked knowingly.
“I think it’s going to work out just fine for that scene. Just fine indeed,” Sutton said.
“Really? Are you sure?” Janelle pressed.
“Yes. I’m quite sure.”
Janelle grinned, and pointed from Reeve to Sutton. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me. You two didn’t test it out, did you?”
There was something strangely salacious in Janelle’s question and Sutton was flummoxed. She couldn’t tell if Janelle was a prude or a pervert. Reeve tightened his grip on Sutton’s shoulder in a possessive way, then he spoke. “Let’s just say, we are one hundred percent positive that it’s the perfect location.” He winked at Janelle, and leaned into Sutton, dusting a kiss on her cheek. “Aren’t we, babe?” he said to her.
He knew how to handle Janelle. How to play her, so Sutton made a choice to trust him. “Yes, we are.”
They left the wine closet and as Janelle headed toward the living room, Reeve pulled Sutton aside and spoke in a low voice.
“I think she might be a bit like the woman who runs the escort agency in Escorted Lives.”
“No. Really?”
He nodded. “I’m betting she’s kind of a voyeur herself.”
“Oh, that’s totally not the case,” Sutton said, but then found herself wondering if perhaps life was imitating art in some bizarre way with Janelle.
Reeve and Sutton joined the Pinkertons in the living room, where Nicholas and Frederick sat like puffy buffoons on an antique-looking couch. They made small talk for the next hour as a caterer circled by offering hamachi, prosciutto-wrapped asparagus and stuffed mushrooms. Then it was time for dinner and they moved to the dining room, which boasted a gorgeous view of Central Park, wide and expansive from the tenth floor of the penthouse. Once again, Janelle stationed herself next to Reeve, much as she had at the theater. Did Janelle have a crush on Reeve? Well, if she did Sutton couldn’t blame her. But if that woman tried to steal her boyfriend, she’d claw her
Similar Books
