Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Suspense,
Romance,
Contemporary,
Adult,
Women Authors,
Georgia,
Murder,
secrets,
Scandals
which, I might add, sheâs very well paid to do.â
âI need to see Jeb about some work he wanted done to his gazebo, anyway,â Cash said. âNo point in Dorothy having to go out of her way.â Somehow, without using any outward force, he was deftly herding them all toward the front door.
âRoxanne, I canât remember ever having a better meal. It was a true masterpiece of culinary achievement.â He took hold of her hand and in a gesture that left Chelsea open-mouthed, lifted it to his lips. âThough spending time with you is downright hazardous to a manâs waistline.â
âDonât worry, Cash.â Her voice was a sultry purr. âWithall the work youâll be doing at Belle Terre, youâll burn off any extra calories.â
Chelsea was uncomfortable watching Roxanneâs avid, greedy eyes moving over Cashâs face, eating him up as if he were a piece of rich, whiskey-soaked pudding. She cleared her throat, drawing Roxanneâs attention back to her.
âDinner was wonderful,â she seconded Cashâs review of the meal. âWhat time would you like to get together tomorrow to discuss the book?â
âFirst you need to see Belle Terre. Why donât I have Dorothy pick you up at ten? We can drive out to look at the house, then discuss our little project after that.â
She was, of course, being steamrollered again. But as exhausted as she was, Chelsea decided not to argue. âIâd like to see the house.â She turned to Jo. âBut I have to ask that you donât videotape me at the site. Unless I agree to the collaboration.â
âUntil,â Roxanne said coyly.
She may be tired. But she wasnât a fool. Chelsea tilted her chin. âUnless,â she repeated.
A significant little silence settled over the foyer as the war of wills was waged.
Roxanne was the first to back down. âUnless,â she agreed with a smile that didnât begin to reach her eyes. Chelsea knew the woman was not surrendering. Rather, sheâd wisely chosen to retreat from the battlefield and fight another day.
Roxanne Scarbrough was outrageously egotistical. And, Chelsea suspected, ruthless. But she was also talented, intelligent and fast becoming an American phenomenon. Chelsea knew sheâd never like the woman. But then again, when you earned your living as a celebrity journalist, it was probably best not to write about people you admired.
Once, when profiling Diane Keaton, Dominick Dunne hadrevealed missing the actress the moment heâd dropped her off at her hotel. Chelsea could not imagine ever feeling that way about Roxanne.
âWell,â Cash said, seemingly determined to move things along, âweâd better get going.â
Chelsea said polite goodbyes to Roxanne, Dorothy and Jo. She did not say anything to Cash. Not on the way down the long brick sidewalk to the driveway, although she couldnât resist arching a brow at the black Ferrari.
As soon as she settled into the black leather seat, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and promptly fell asleep.
Chapter Six
T he unseasonably warm spring night was drenched with the sultry scent of sun-ripened flowers. The fact that he was too tall to drive the Ferrari with the top up had never proven that much of a problem for Cash. He simply kept an eye on the barometer, avoided getting caught in rainstorms if possible, and enjoyed the feel of the wind as he raced through the dark and nearly deserted streets of Raintree.
Achieving success in California had allowed him to return to Georgia in style. Heâd come a helluva long way from that kid whoâd been born in a sharecropperâs shack and had spent his teenage years sneaking peeks through keyholes in the whorehouse. He was no longer the rough, angry young man whoâd seduced a passionate, old-money WASP princess at Yale.
Heâd come to terms with his past. Was pleased with his
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