She Woke Up Married by Suzanne Macpherson Page B

He thought perhaps this wasn’t the time to go into that. He had months ahead to work with her. To soften that hard heart of hers. To charm her out of her coiled-up, ready-to-strike mind-set.
    Turner really did feel like a snake charmer. He was never sure when Paris might strike hard and send venom right into his bones and do him in forever. Charming Paris was not a job for the weak-minded. Turner took a deep breath, brought his spirit some much-needed clarity, and sat at the table. He took a long sip of green tea with ginger. It had a bite to it. Just like his Paris.

8
Devil In Disguise
    Paris was on a flight to Las Vegas with her new husband, Turner Pruitt, the Elvis-impersonating minister. Anton had said the words to Marla on the phone, but he still couldn’t believe it. Something was afoot in Parisville. Anton’s mind spun through their last weeks together like a search engine, looking for links and clues. He was Googling through Paris’s words and actions, looking for something.
    “I can hardly believe our Paris letting some guy be nice to her on a long-term basis.” Marla finally filled up the gap in the conversation.
    “I don’t know what it is yet, but there is definitely something not right here.” Anton flopped on his down comforter and let it poof aroundhim. He was still in his pajamas, and it felt great. Besides, he needed to get grounded.
    “You don’t think the guy is a phony, do you? You don’t think she’s in trouble?” Marla asked.
    “No, I met him. He’s like…Mr. Wonderful. He’s patient, he actually loves her, you can see it on his totally gorgeous face. And you should hear the guy sing. And responsible? Oy. He did fill-in for Stephen at Dolan’s Pub like you wouldn’t believe. He sang Irish and poured beer like a champ, and the regulars loved him. His bar was a regular confessional. He even got Moss McGuity to stop drinking and go back to his wife in a mere four weeks. And his aura was bright as a saint, I swear .” Anton fluffed up his pillows and got comfortable for a big, fat gab with his Marla pal. Damn the long-distance bills, full speed ahead.
    “Did you ask Rita about Paris?”
    “All she had was the same story. Paris is going to take a year off and be with her new hubby. But let me just say there was not a shred of kissy-kissy going on there between Mr. and Mrs. Pruitt. Gawd, can you even believe that name? Paris Pruitt. Talk about your karma. She sublet her place and put most of her stuff in storage, I hear.”
    “She was very strange on the phone a while back. I thought maybe it upset her that Tom andI are expecting again. Like maybe she turned thirty and she was feeling, you know…her time was passing her by.”
    “I really don’t think Paris has stopped to listen to her biological clock. It could have a nine bell alarm go off and she’d just throw it across the room,” Anton said.
    “Well, whatever it was, she sounded strange. Maybe you and I should take a little jaunt to Las Vegas. Just a surprise visit from the folks, you know.”
    “Marla, I never thought of you as that sneaky.”
    “I write mysteries.”
    “That’s clever, not sneaky. I like sneaky on you.”
    “We better go soon before I get as big as a house. They don’t like you to fly in the last trimester.”
    “I’ve got a big show coming up at the end of this month.” Anton reached for a celery stick and crunched into the phone. He’d been trying to slim down from all the pasta fungili and pub food he’d been consuming lately.
    “I’ve got a book due at the end of the month, too. Can we wait that long?”
    “We just need a quick weekend. I’ll check with Rita and see what’s coming up.”
    “I’ll check with Tom and see if he minds me taking off for a few days. He’s awfully overprotective when I’m pregnant.”
    “Oh, bring the big lug. He’s fun.” Antoncrunched. He hated celery. Maybe some prosciutto and Gorgonzola would improve it.
    “Tom will be so thrilled to hear that.”